#({HI I STILL} {REALLY L O V E} THIS ONE TOO) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vagabond-umlaut · 3 months ago

Text

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-

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

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

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maythearo · 1 year ago

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" Welcome back to Night Raven College's 'Ghostly Gossip'! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" You see, all my notes have to say about him is 'Mr braincell Spade that electrified the whole pool last swimming class'- and I'm almost sure it wasn't me who wrote it. Although I still remember this event so clearly... what a weird day. "

Navigation:

R. Rosehearts - T. Clover - C. Diamond - A. Trappola - D. Spade - L. Kingscholar - R. Bucchi - J. Howl - A. Ashengrotto - J. Leech - F. Leech - K. Al Asim - J. Viper - V. Schoenheit - R. Hunt - E. Felmier - I. Shroud - O. Shroud - M. Draconia - L. Vanrouge - S. Zigvolt - Silver

[ design notes ]

Alright so that took a bit longer bcs I wanted Ace to be ready as well, just so I could link his and Deuce's designs in a few aspects, and I'll talk about this in more detail later, for sir Ass Trampoline's future entry.

I know in that picture I said there was way too much free space on reference pics, but I'm just realizing I should have included one of Frankie bcs obviously they were a huge inspiration for Deuce's design as well 😭 both from G1 and G3. I initially chose the Frankenstein monster for him just for the fact that he's good with machines n stuff in canon, but later I realized the og story of Frankenstein had a lot to do with conflict between the creator and the creation, that if I squint it I can see the similarities between that and Deuce's character arc to change + his rocky relationship to his family, idk, can't really oversimplify the book's story but. I thought the themes could be very loosely connected 🧍 (?)

I should also add that the highlights on his hair match his mom's, that's cute. ALSO also his rings designs/placements don't really matter, I think he'd just wear whatever rings he finds without much preference.

For his AU personality and traits, well, he's just Deuce. Straightforward, diligent, at times naive, and clumsy Deuce. Story and background pretty much remains the same too, why not!

Sorry I didn't have much to say here, most of the notes I work on I write while in class or in the car (not the best places for concentration imo), bcs I'm not having much free time to stay still lately 😭 I'm hoping I didn't leave much of my hcs behind though!

#.the ghostly gossip #deuce spade #twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanart #monster high #my art #twst au #monster high fanart #heartslabyul #Ass Trampoline soon i think #(collapses on the floor)

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boom-butterflyeffect · 2 months ago

Note

If you don’t mind can you do a NSFW alphabet for Josh or Matt

check out my masterlist for the Matt one! unfortunately it might be a little underwhelming, i haven't looked into his character as much as the others, and i'm only now getting back into writing so my writing is pretty minimal rn, but anyways!

Josh Washington NSFW Alphabet

im honestly so excited for this one, josh is fine as fuck, and in my mind, he's arguably the kinkiest out of them all

A - Aftercare

Josh would get you all cleaned up, kissing you all over while he does so.

B - Body Part (His favourite body part on himself and you)

He loves your lips. Just mesmerised by how pretty they are. His favourite part of himself would probably be his dick, I can't lie

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Messy! gets off to the sight of you with his cum either ON you or dripping out of you.

D - Dirty secret

Has SO MANY ideas for things you two could do. Wouldn't surprise me if he has them written down somewhere.

E - Experience (How experienced he is)

He's got a decent amount of experience, as well as a lot of ideas from the porn he watches.

F - Favorite position

Tbh I feel like Josh would love fucking you from behind while you're on your hands and knees, and he's got his hands on your hips.

G - Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment?)

Can switch back and forth between silly and serious so fast, and you can never quite tell if his seriousness is playful or not.

H - Hair

He keeps it tidy

I - Intimacy

He loves to get up close and personal, whispering in your ear and touching you all over.

J - Jack off

Honestly, a lot. He's got a lot of pent up energy.

K - Kink

I think Josh could potentially enjoy roleplay and costumes, considering how much he seemed to enjoy his whole Psycho act, and with all the movie equipment he has in the basement, I feel like he'd def be into some of the more kinky stuff.

L - Location

Every. Single. Goddamn. Room. In that lodge.

M - Motivation

Literally just seeing you.

N - No (Hard limits)

Anything that goes beyond your basic sadistic stuff, like nothing that would cause bleeding or permanent damage.

O - Oral

Loves both giving and receiving, loves making you squirm with just his tongue, does wonders for his ego seeing you become a mess, and would def be the type to grab you by the hair when receiving and guide your head.

P - Pace

Much like the seriousness, it can switch back and forth really fast. He always keeps you on your toes.

Q - Quickie

Yes. Quick fuck in a college bathroom before class? 100% he's down.

R - Risk

He's all for experimenting and trying out new things, and can enjoy things on the more daring side.

S - Stamina

He's got a LOT of energy, and gets really riled up once he's started.

T - Toys

I could definitely see Josh using toys on you, all sorts of borderline sadistic shit.

U - Unfair

Oh 100% he will degrade and praise you at the same time and leave you confused and whining.

V - Volume

Loud. Very chatty too, and talks you through everything, with all sorts of praise and degradation and teasing and all sorts.

W - Wild card (Random NSFW HC of my choosing)

I could imagine for Halloween he'd dress up as a masked killer from your favourite slasher movie and "hunt you down", he enjoys the thrill of the chase.

X - X-ray (Size)

7 inches (I think I'm just saying the same for all of them tbh idk)

Y - Yearning

Oh he is eager ALL the time, he's the most dirty minded guy in the group, no competition

Z - Zzz

I don't think he'd sleep for a while afterwards tbh, still too high on the adrenaline rush.

Bro it's crazy how much easier this one was than the others, I do really just imagine Josh to be a horny fucker

thank you for the request! Feel free to request other stuff too!

#smut #josh washington #until dawn #josh washington x reader #x reader

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littlesunshine1223 · 5 months ago

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Wolverine NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

- he loves to cuddle you and praise you after the both of you are cleaned up and to top things off you get to lay on his chest

B = Body Part (his favorite part of you)

- picking a part is a struggle for him but he loves your chest and hips the most due to the fact he loves grabbing your hips and burying his face in your chest as he covers you in hickeys and bites

C = Cum (anything to do with it)

- he loves to cum inside you especially when he’s feral and in his more primal state of mind, mostly because the thought of potentially getting you pregnant makes him hard all over again and most of the time it leads to a couple more rounds

D = Dominance (how dominant is he in bed)

- he doms 98% of the time and the only time he subs is if he’s exhausted or really needy and can’t think at all

E = Experience (does he know what he’s doing)

- he’s been around for over 200 years, safe to say he’s experienced

F = Favorite Position (self-explanatory)

- he loves putting you in the mating press or missionary more than anything

G = Goofy (is he serious or laid back during sex)

- he takes making love seriously but afterwards during aftercare he might call you little nicknames and tease you a bit

H = Hair Pulling (can you pull his hair)

- he loves hair pulling, he doesn’t care if you’re pulling his hair or he’s pulling yours but when he’s feral and really worked up when you pull his hair then it’s safe to say you’re not walking for at least a week

I = Intimacy (how romantic is he during sex)

- he loves to swoon you and butter you up before the two of you have sex

J = Jealously (does he get jealous easily)

- he’s not too jealous he’s just really protective over the ones he loves especially his mate

K = Kinks (one or more of his kinks)

- he’s into 90% of the kinks and it would take forever to type all of them down, just know he’d never do anything gross or would harm you in anyway

L = Location (his favorite places to have sex)

- he loves doing it in the bedroom and shower

M = Motivation (what turns him on the most and gets him going)

- you just being around him and taking care of him gets him harder than ever but if you really want to make him feral all you have to do is wear a shirt of his without anything underneath it besides your panties

N = NO (something he will never do)

- he will never hurt you or do anything gross to you while he’s making love to you

O = Oral (does he prefer giving or receiving)

- he loves both, he can’t choose between stuffing his face between your thighs while using his tongue to make you moan and scream for him or his hand tangling in your hair as you practically make out with the massive size between his legs

P = Pace (is he rough or more gentle with you)

- he’s rough whenever he’s in a primal mindset but if he’s in a rut like state then he switches between paces

Q = Quickie (his thoughts on quickies)

- he’ll do then but he still prefers to take his time with you and properly stuff you

R = Risk (is he willing to risk someone catching the two of you during the moment)

- usually with his grunts, your cries of pleasure, and the sound of skin on skin people usually put the pieces together and don’t interrupt

S = Secret (a secret fantasy of his)

- he had this thought while he was in his rut and could never shake it from his mind, it was him completely feral and balls deep inside you but what mainly sent him over the edge was the slight bulge in your stomach from how deep he was and the fact you were praising him with your hand in his hair, petting him as he rocked his hips

T = Top, Switch, or Bottom (self-explanatory)

- he prefers to be on top of you in full control just to soothe some of the primal urges inside him a little bit

U = Umm…Idk what to put here (random headcanons)

- one time he was holding the headboard when he came and his claws went straight through the wood into the wall behind it

V = Volume (how loud is he during the moment)

- he mainly lets out groans, pants, and grunting noises but if he’s really worked up it’s easier to get him to moan

W = Wildcard (another random headcanon)

- he will bite you before he cums, it’s like a mating thing for him and he’ll make sure you’ll smell like him whenever he knows you’re gonna be around other people

X = X-Ray (what’s he’s packing in his pants)

- he’s PACKING both size wise and girth wise, it’s a surprise it fits in his pants especially when he’s got a thick ass to fit in the same pants

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive)

- his more primal side keeps telling him to bend you over the nearest surface and make sure you’re good and knocked up even if you can’t get pregnant

Z = ZZZ (how fast does he fall asleep after)

- he refuses to fall asleep before you no matter what, once you’re completely asleep and he knows you’re safe then he’ll let himself sleep

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

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Practice On Me — Part Fifteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader are really enjoying being in L-O-V-E, which makes them a little careless. Daddy Fin likes to make gestures. Kaeda thinks she’s smart but she fucking AIN’T. The night of the ball arrives.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Some very light depictions of sex (not really smut). A light sprinkling of the ol’ violence.

Fingers rake slowly through your hair.

They belong to hands that have felt such torturous agony, and have been left with scars to show for it — but their touch is as light and as loving as a warm summer breeze.

Azriel’s body shudders against yours as he stares down at you. The hand that toys with the strands of your hair moves to brush a tender caress to your cheek, and his panting breaths land on your lips.

“I love you.” He whispers, not for the first time that morning.

Barely morning, in fact. The sun is not yet up, and even the dorms are still blanketed in silence. It’s the third time in a week you’ve snuck away to steal a few hours with Azriel — with Rhysand’s valued help. Your friend will return you to Velaris before Fin can even discover you left.

You push up onto your elbows, capturing Azriel in a languid kiss. And you murmur through a smile, “I love you, too.”

He also smiles. Your body is aware of his every touch as he pulls out of you and settles at your side, tugging the sheet over your naked bodies. The dorms aren’t the most romantic setting for you to lose yourselves in each other, no, but the mutual need for one another’s touches is getting—

Well. Quite frankly…out of hand. In a good way. The best way.

Gone is the endearing, nervous Azriel of that first sexual encounter. In his place is a male who knows your body like he’s been painting it with love for years — and not the mere two weeks since you first slept together.

Perhaps it wasn’t practice he needed at all, but rather…you. Just you.

He rests his head beside yours on the pillow, and his hand is clasping your cheek and turning your face towards his. “Sleep here with me.” He says.

A soft groan leaves you. Never would you have thought a night in the dorms would sound like heaven, but with Azriel, it really does. “I wish I could. I have to go back.”

“For how much longer?”

“I think Fin will make his decisions on the night of the ball. He knows what I think…what I want him to decide. And whatever choice he makes, I’ll come back here after — to you. I just hope I don’t fail in convincing him where Tathaln is concerned.”

Az twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. “You will not have failed. Whatever the outcome.”

You stare back at him. “We’ll be together regardless.”

“Yes.” He agrees. “We will. Let them screw with the camps, if they must. But wherever you go, I go, too.”

There is such ease in reaching forward to slant your mouth over his, that you almost forget how close you came to losing the opportunity of that simple gesture. The thought has you leaning in closer, throwing everything you think and feel into that kiss. You feel Azriel gasp against your lips, and you can’t hide your smile.

“One more week until the ball.” You say as you pull back. “Just one more week.”

Azriel studies you, sliding a hand over your cheek. “I want a life with you.”

Gods, you want the same. And it takes everything in your power to keep thoughts of war at bay — to push away the conversation you had with Fin concerning humans and uprisings and battle being inevitable. Happiness sits right here in front of you, and you…you’re going to throw yourself into its open arms. Think about the bad stuff later.

But before you can kiss Azriel again, the door is flying open, and Rhysand’s leaning against the frame.

“Time’s up, lovebirds.” He says, biting into an apple. “I have to get the damsel back to her tower before first light.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rhys.” Az scrambles to pull the sheet tighter around you. “You ever heard of knocking? We need to get dressed.”

“I’ve seen Y/N’s tits literally so many times.”

A snarl comes from the shadowsinger, and Rhys’s violet gaze glitters with amusement.

You roll your eyes, sitting up and clutching the sheet to those tits he’s seen literally so many times. “Stop winding him up, Rhys. I’ll be right out.”

“You sure you don’t need help dressing—”

There’s another deep snarl, and Azriel is launching a pillow in your friend’s direction. Rhys is out of the room before it can hit him, bellowing a laugh that causes a sleepy, disgruntled resident of the dorms to call out, “Shut the fuck up!” Rhys shouts back, “You shut the fuck up!”

You make to push off the bed, but Az tenderly catches your wrist and kisses you again. “Go careful with the High Lord.” He pleads.

“Always.” You peck him once, twice. “I’ll be back in your arms before you know it.”

He tries his best, to his credit, to smile. But you recognise the worry that lurks behind it, exists in a glowering streak on his beautiful face.

It’s the same worry that prowls in your veins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Rhys winnows you straight into your bedroom at Fin’s palace and parts with a kiss to your cheek — and a playful thank fuck you and Az sorted your shit out.

To which you’d promptly told him to go get his dick sucked by Zakai.

To which he’d promptly told you that he most definitely planned to.

Alone in your room, now, you feel…light.

Staring down the large bedroom filled to the brim with luxuries, you feel…content. Content to know you will soon be walking away from this and back to where you may have the bare necessities, but you — most importantly — have love waiting for you.

Perhaps you are a naïve fool in love. But with that love…anything seems possible, somehow.

You quickly change into your nightgown, not wanting to rouse suspicion by bathing too early in the morning — even if Fin does consider himself privy to your sleeping habits, he knows also that you have a routine. Doing anything outside of that may just pique his interest a little too close for comfort.

So you’ll sleep. Not for long; a few hours, maybe. And when daylight bathes Velaris, you’ll return to your scheming.

One week to go.

One week.

That thought becomes loud — too loud — the second you slip between the sheets. You want to shove a pillow over your head and attempt to block it out, but one urgent thought turns to another, another, and any tiredness that may have begun to bleed into your bones is interrupted by the very realisation that soon…things will be happening, moving along, soon.

You toss under the blanket, huffing quietly to yourself. But a slow, measured inhale of breath brings with it the lingering scent of Azriel, and it’s an immediate relaxant, a soothing presence of cedar and frost and—

You jolt at the click of your door echoing through the room. The sound of it opening.

The sky has lightened enough outside to lend little shafts of daylight to the room, but not bright enough to see much. You sit up quickly, watching the door inch open.

Footsteps thud against the floor, and Fin is emerging, his tall, muscled outline undeniable even in the dimness of the room. Your body tenses. You watch, stunned, as he strides further into your room, an object clutched in his hands. He heads straight for the desk.

Perhaps it’s foolish of you, but you reach over and lay your palm over the small orb on your bedside table. The touch has faelight blooming in the area, a golden glow that illuminates it just enough for you to see Fin stop in his tracks and turn towards you—

Flowers. He holds a bouquet of gorgeous, peach-coloured flowers in his hand. He meets your gaze, and pink dusts his cheeks.

“…did I wake you?” He swallows, shifting on the spot. “I’m sorry — I was trying to be quiet.”

You swallow, also. You eye him. The flowers. Him again. It makes you feel strange to have him here, in your room, at this hour. To think he came with a nice gesture.

It takes you a second or two to remember the role you’re playing. You force your shoulders to relax and plaster an airy smile on your face, drinking those flowers in with genuine surprise.

“Those are for me?” You ask.

Fin glances at the bouquet like he forgot, entirely, that he was even holding it. He clears his throat and nods. “Yes — I, uh…I got them from the Summer Court. You can only find them there. They’re called—”

“Dusk-Light Blooms.” As you kick your sheets away and stand, your reaction isn’t entirely for show. “I know — I’ve read about them. They’re beautiful.”

The male’s brown eyes study you, and then the peach petals, and then you again. He inclines his head a little. “Almost as lovely as you.”

“You say such kind things to me, Fin.”

“I think you’re owed twenty years of kind things.” He straightens himself, handing the bouquet out to you. “I meant to leave them as a surprise for you to wake up to. A parting gift, also. I’ll be away on business for the next couple of days and I…I didn’t want you to assume I left without thinking of you.”

There are such warring, conflicting feelings inside you that they almost knock you off your feet. Make you want to sit down.

Firstly, you almost feel like a wretch — for playing a game, and playing it so well. Who knew that you could charm a High Lord, make him so besotted by you? His kindness is not for show. He genuinely holds you in high regard.

And then a little bit of anger slips in. Because whether he and Roza honour their bond or not, Roza is his mate — his very pregnant mate. His very pregnant mate that’s currently sleeping in her quarters of the palace. It sits funny inside you that he’s not leaving her a beautiful bouquet of Dusk-Light Blooms before he parts for business. That he’s not more concerned about leaving her and the babe behind when he leaves.

But you suppose that means you’re a temptress, a wretched, seductive little thing. You have filled the High Lord’s brain with such sweet things that he can currently see no one and nothing but you. Manipulative, yes. But if it gets you your crucial result…if it saves Illyrians from Tathaln Baralas’s cunning mind…so be it.

Your voice is like syrup as you lift your gaze to his hickory-hued one and curl your lips into a smile. “I’ll look at these flowers while you’re gone.” You say. “And I’ll think of you.”

And it’s not an outright lie, because you probably will. You won’t be able to take in the beauty of those velvety petals without considering the fact that the High Lord of the Night Court went to the trouble of getting them for you in the first place.

“I’ll be thinking of you, too.” Fin turns, placing the bouquet onto the desk. He pauses with his back to you. “…I think of you a lot, in fact.”

“And I, you.” And Tathaln, and Fenlaros, and what a shit show this could turn into if things aren’t righted—

“If I could give you anything you wanted, Y/N, what would you ask for?”

He pivots so he’s facing you again, and the question leaves you stumped for a moment — even though the answer sits on your tongue.

You blink. “Anything?”

“Anything.” He dips his chin. “A house, a business to set you up for life, your father’s head on a spike for all to spit at—”

“I just want Tathaln Baralas to leave the Illyrian camps and their inhabitants alone.”

Fin stares at you. His head falls into a very slight tilt.

“It is by no means a glamorous place, Fin.” You breathe your words, unable to stop them pouring out of you. “It’s certainly not a gem like Velaris. But it works. The way it is has worked for hundreds of years — thousands. And where Tathaln thinks merging the camps would be the making of Illyria…I think it would be the death of it. In numerous aspects. Not just in the strength and training of its armies, but…in the strength of its families, too. There’s a lot to be righted about that place. Turning into one, huge cesspool of chaos and anger is not the way to do it.”

He knows all of this, of course…that you feel this way. But he stares at you like it’s the first time he’s hearing it, and he purses his lips. You can see the cogs turning in his mind. You let him think.

And when he steps closer to you, you do not step back. When he comes to within touching distance, you do not balk. Even when he raises a hand and taps the centre of your forehead with his finger.

“This,” he murmurs, “this mind is a brilliant thing. It should not go to waste.”

“I’m just speaking from the heart—”

“And from a logical standpoint, too. Your brain should be put to work on the council of a court. Not in a war camp where your excellence isn’t even seen, let alone appreciated.”

Your eyes dip to the floor. There’s no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” Fin draws even closer, and his hands are suddenly cupping your face, forcing you to gaze up at him. “You remind me so much of—”

He stops short.

For a moment, you can’t tell what cuts him off. You study his face for the answer.

And then you catch the very slight twitching of his nose. His brow furrows.

“You smell…different.” He says.

It is such a gargantuan effort to stop yourself from stiffening under his touch. To keep your expression mild, unperturbed.

“I don’t know what it is.” He sniffs again. “Familiar, but also…not.”

You swallow. Hard. “I used a different soap when I bathed before bed. I didn’t like the smell of it, so I threw it out.”

He leans in closer, and you stand still as his nose bumps the skin of your neck. He inhales deeply, slowly.

“…Cedar?” He guesses. “Cedar and…something else.”

“Yes.” You clear your throat. “I bought it from a market in Windhaven a while back. Like I said…I wasn’t fond of the scent.”

Such a lie. Such a godsdamned little lie.

But you will not give that away as Fin considers your words. You remain unflinching in your answer. You silently plead with him to believe you. If he could just believe you…you’ll kick yourself after he’s left, for not washing Azriel’s scent from your skin.

He slowly moves up your neck until his lips are at your cheek. Brushing the skin. “Interesting.” Is all he says, before pulling back. “I much prefer your scent.”

You bow your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He studies you. Closely. It seems to last for ages — so long that you grow restless on the spot.

But then a strange smile tugs his lips up, and he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger — a tender gesture. “Enjoy your flowers,” he says, “and don’t think of me too hard while I’m away.”

“I’ll try not to. And thank you — for the flowers.”

A deep laugh leaves him, and he’s brushing past you, striding back over to the door. Your heart is galloping inside your chest.

He stops with his hand rested on the doorknob, turning back to you. He tilts his head.

“If you have any more trouble sleeping,” he says, “just think about the night of the ball.” He opens the door. “I can do a great many things with my tongue.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You’ve reread the note at least ten times, now.

Something just feels…off about it. Churns your gut.

Perhaps it’s that it’s your father’s handwriting that glares up at you, dark and ugly and smeared on the page. Even his hand is threatening, domineering.

I need to see you urgently. Meet me at the mead hall this afternoon, three o’clock.

Of course, you consider simply throwing the note into the fire and giving it no further thought — that’s certainly what your father deserves — but…you don’t know. For all his flaws, your father is not a hyperbolic male. You can’t imagine him stressing urgency without good reason. You can’t imagine him wanting to see you without good reason.

Azriel flies you from Velaris to Windhaven, his arms a supportive band around you. He can feel the tension tightly coiled in your body. As his shadows guide his way through the skies, he leans in and presses a kiss to the crease between your brows.

“I love you.” He says, and those three little words loosen some of your restlessness. “You’re sure you don’t want me to meet your father with you?”

Yes, you want him to. But whether or not it’s a good idea is a different story entirely.

“It’ll only make him more hostile.” You smile apologetically. “You know…how he feels about you.”

“And he should know how I feel about him. That I hope he gets eviscerated. Slowly.”

He’s not joking, but a quiet, nervous laugh rasps out of you, and that laugh softens the fury in his eyes and causes him to squeeze you tightly against him.

“Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll stay away from the meeting. Not too far away, though. I’ll be nearby, and when he’s said his piece, I’m getting you straight out of there. We’ll go and buy hot chocolate.”

A smile curls your lips. “From the market stall?” The very one the two of you have been frequenting for years.

He leans in, kisses you again. “From the market stall.”

He sets you down a few buildings away from the mead hall and vows to wait. Something in his gaze as you part from him tells you that while he may not encroach on the meeting, his brilliant shadows will be putting the feelers out, keeping him updated. You expect — nor want — nothing less.

So close to Starfall, even Windhaven is mild enough that your heavy overcoat is starting to feel like a bad choice. Or perhaps the clamminess of your skin is from raw, nauseating anticipation. You do not want to do this. You would happily never see this male ever again. You wonder if it’s better to ignore his request and go running away from the building—

But you open the door and step inside before you can talk yourself out of it.

It’s always empty this time of day, when the Windhaven residents are finished with their lunch. The smells of roasted meat and potatoes still linger in the air, the warmth of the hearths still permeating the building. But it’s dark, and a little eerie, and that’s why you jump at the clipped footsteps that emerge from the kitchen.

The strange concoction of emotions you feel in that moment is jarring.

You’re both shocked and not shocked at all. Annoyed. Anxious. A little sick to your stomach. Kaeda holds your returned note in one of her hands. She chucks it onto the closest table.

“Wasn’t hard to imitate your father’s handwriting.”

You purse your lips, watching as she slides her hands into her pockets. You suppose you hadn’t considered this side of things — that she’d want to confront you about you and Azriel. But luring you here under false pretences…using your father to taunt you—

“Why.” You bite out. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop messing with my fucking work.”

Straight to the point, then. You take in her beautiful features, and oh, she’s angry. Her face is so pinched that it’s almost…not beautiful at all. Her vibrant hair is a flash of her temper.

But you’re angry, too. Livid. That she would use Azriel the way she did, play on his emotions, try to separate you…

“Azriel,” you snap, “is not your work. He’s not your anything.”

She stares at you, and her lips twitch. There’s amusement there, but it’s a sneer. A cold, calculating sneer.

“I knew, from the very first time he mentioned you, that you were going to be a problem.” She removes her hands from her pockets to fold her arms over her chest. “Azriel’s loyal little lapdog who’s so down bad for him that you’re loath to let him experience anyone else.”

“That’s bullshit, Kaeda. He didn’t want you. That had nothing to do with me.”

“Except it does. Because I could have convinced him if it weren’t for you, and then he would have come back to Fenlaros with me, and my fucking livelihood would not be hanging in the balance.”

Perhaps it makes you cold, but you don’t feel bad. It doesn’t grate on you that she may go from having everything, to having as little as you do. You feel…nothing.

She can sense that, you think. Just looking at you seems to incense her even more.

“If I can’t give my father what he wants,” she hisses, “I will lose everything.”

You shrug. “You play dumb games, Kaeda, and you win dumb prizes.”

“And what of the games you play? Word on the street is you’ve been cozying up to the High Lord. Does Azriel know just how far you’re willing to take it?”

If she’s trying to strike a nerve, it works. You try not to let it show as you straighten your back, hold your head up high. You may not be a seasoned schemer like she so clearly is, but your actions as of late are nothing to scoff at.

“Azriel knows,” you say, “that I am doing what I have to in order to stop your father destroying Illyria as we know it.”

“My father is trying to help Illyria—”

“Your father is power hungry and wants nothing more than to rule Illyria. Anyone can see that. And he’s using you to do it.”

“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing.”

A laugh breaks from you. “I know a great deal more than you do. And I know that if your father gets what he wants — and that’s a big if, because I will do whatever I have to to stop him — he will drop you so fucking fast, Kaeda—”

In the blink of an eye, she’s moving, and you’re suddenly slammed against the wall, her fingers wrapped around your throat. Her perfectly manicured nails bite into your skin as she squeezes.

“I didn’t come here to listen to your bullshit. It’s all steeped in jealousy, anyway, because my father actually loves me.”

“Your father,” you choke out, “needs you, Kaeda. He doesn’t love you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” She repeats, slamming you against the wall. Her hand squeezes your throat harder, tighter. “And stay out of the High Lord’s head. This is a warning. You do not want to cross me—”

Air punches your lungs so suddenly that you don’t even register the fact that Kaeda is ripped off of you. You slide down the wall, coughs shuddering from you, spotty vision just catching the way dark shadows snake out and launch the female across the room.

Azriel doesn’t even move from the spot he winnowed to. His shadows do all the work, shoving Kaeda against the opposite wall and pinning her there.

“This is a warning,” he intones quietly, dangerously, “that if you ever touch so much as a hair on Y/N’s head ever again, I will fucking destroy you and take great delight in doing so. Do you understand?”

Kaeda says nothing. Merely tries to fight against those shadows that only tighten the more she struggles. Az takes a step closer.

“We’ll attend your father’s little ball and face whatever he’s planning head-on.” His face is a sheet of icy rage. “But if you think we won’t retaliate, you’re sorely mistaken. It’s not too late to switch sides, Kaeda, and you’d be wise to do so before things really get out of hand.”

“Oh, fuck you—”

A shadow snaps out, and you can only watch in quiet horror — and delight — as it forges itself into a weapon that slices the skin of Kaeda’s cheek. Draws blood.

“I do not mess around where my loved ones are concerned, and you’ll do well to remember that.” Azriel watches with indifference as the blood trickles down. “You will never come for Y/N again. Won’t even look at her, in fact. Do you understand?”

The shadow-knife-sword-thing that cut her cheek now sits precariously at her neck. She tries to move, but her arms are bound to her sides. She’s backed into a corner and well and truly knows it.

“Don’t make me ask you a third time.” Az says.

“…Yes.” Kaeda grits out as the shadow presses against her neck. “I understand.”

And just like that, upon Azriel’s command, those shadows are loosening their grip on the redhead female, letting her go. She releases a staggered breath.

“You’ll regret this.” She seethes, pushing away from the wall. “Both of you will.”

She disappears before either of you have a chance to respond. All you can do is watch and watch those incredible shadows — watch as instead of returning to Azriel, they swim through the air, over to you. Their cool, gentle touch brushes the skin of your neck.

“My love,” Az is kneeling at your side, and he, too, brushes your neck. “I should have known. I’m sorry—”

You don’t allow the needless apology to linger between you — not as you reach out and pull Azriel into a heavy, heated kiss. It seems to knock him speechless for a moment, before he’s gripping your face and kissing you back.

And that kiss says everything. Tells him that you will not be intimidated out of loving him, out of wishing for a future with him. You will not stop until you get it.

You kiss him and kiss him until you’re both gasping for breath, your lips swollen and a little tender from the exertion. When you finally break away, just enough to meet his gaze, question swims in his hazel eyes. He wants to know what you’re thinking.

“We’re going to destroy them.” You promise breathlessly, pecking him once. “We’re going to stop them before they can stop us.”

He nods vigorously, hair falling into his eyes. “Yes.” He pecks you back, quick. “We are.”

“We’re going to tear them apart.” Another kiss, two, three — growing in desperation with each one. “Limb from limb.”

Your love, your heart, your soul, does not answer you with words. But rather, he answers by meeting your fire, your intensity.

His mouth captures yours again, and he’s scooping you up into his arms. And with the promise of a future lingering on both your lips and his, he lays you down and moulds his body to yours, exactly where this all first started.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A week later — the night of the ball — you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You can’t help wondering if…if you wouldn’t have been able to pull off this dress a mere few months ago. If this garment is only to be worn by the person you’ve grown into. It’s like seeing it for the first time all over again. Its glimmering beauty knocks words straight from your mind until you can only gape at yourself.

You are beautiful. You are brave. You are strong. You are capable.

The gown, the makeup, your hair…it only encourages you. Encourages you to be the kind of person who whispers honeyed words and brings High Lords to their knees.

As if right on cue, the door inches open behind you. Fin strolls in and stops a few steps away. Stares at you.

You meet his gaze in the mirror, and your coy expression is not for show. He picked out everything about your appearance. You want it to be pleasing for him.

And his will certainly be pleasing for anyone who claps eyes on him. The blue of his tailored suit matches the blue of your dress. He looks resplendent, regal, kingly — a High Lord through and through.

He seems to remember how to walk, how to talk. He blinks out of his daze, and his feet are moving again, carrying him closer to you. He stops just behind you, his body more or less pressed against yours.

“You—” He clears his throat, shaking his head. “You are a vision. I think I might be lost for words.”

Your painted lips curl upwards. “I imagine that doesn’t happen very often.”

“No,” he agrees. “It does not.”

He falls silent, his eyes drinking in your reflection, and you allow him the time to do so. If he’s aware of your trembling, he doesn’t let it show.

“You are a vision, too.” You tell him, watching as his eyes flick up to yours in the mirror. “Truly.”

His smile is, perhaps, a rare one. One so few people get to see. It gives away the softer side to him that you genuinely believe exists. The one that takes the compliment to heart.

But then his expression sobers, and he’s closing the minuscule gap between your bodies — pressing his front to your back and allowing his chin to drop to your shoulder. You try not to tense.

“Where the ball is being held,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating through you, “The Hewn City — Morrigan’s home…she calls it the Court of Nightmares.”

You’ve heard of it, of course. Its callous residents. And you would have happily never paid it a visit. But…needs must, and all that.

“I’ve heard it’s not the most pleasant of places.” You say, standing still against the warm hand that brushes your hip. “Is that why you don’t want Roza there while she’s pregnant?”

Fin hums in response. An agreeing noise. “Partially.” He concurs, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “But also because of what tonight will be.”

Your two reflections lock gazes with an intensity that turns your blood cold. “What will tonight be?”

The High Lord takes a moment to answer. He continues to stare at you, all the while stroking a thumb over the curve of your hip.

“Tonight, Y/N, will be one for the history books.” He eventually answers, and another kiss falls onto your shoulder. “Of that, I can assure you.”

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl @mybestfriendmademe

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sailorblossoms-rankane · 5 months ago

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Much holds Ranma and Akane back from confessing (even if on some level They Know) but I like how the cheerleading arc spells things out in a way Ranma is somewhat "comfortable" with (making it a challenge and concealing Akane's identity as knowing it's her makes him Combust).

It all starts with Akane's team losing a volleyball match because of the opposing team's cheerleader (Akane's been through considerably worse so I doubt that would have knocked her out, but I like that Ranma will not let her get hurt in any way shape or form on his watch).

Losing like this makes Akane cry out of frustration. Ranma doesn’t know how to comfort her (too many feelings) but seeing Akane’s feelings being hurt is something he can’t let slide. He only knows how to deal with things as fights/challenges... so he turns this into one

The cheerleader "falls for Kuno" (she's too desperate for romance lol) and so she challenges Ranma for him. Ranma doesn't have a single fuck to give until he clocks her as the girl who made Akane cry. this frames their match as one about love (L-O-V-E, if you will)

The cheerleader is doing it all for Kuno, but Ranma is always doing it for Akane. She's the only reason he takes the challenge, but he keeps this to himself, so on the surface, it seems like both "are fighting over Kuno" (sidenote: what the fuck is Kuno’s problem lmfaooo)

Establishing that "to cheer is to love (the one you're cheering for)" but putting Kuno in the middle makes Ranma have zero chance of winning, until Akane figures out it's about her. that a match about love has Ranma fighting for Akane's sake is an obvious declaration of his love

Just like how Ranma can't let Akane's feelings being hurt slide, Akane can't watch Ranma struggle/about to lose without trying to do anything to help him. her joining a match about love is also an obvious declaration of her love. Ranma fights for her sake, Akane has his back

On the surface, giving Ranma an unknown figure he can pretend to love is safe precisely because "there are no feelings attached." But it could be said that making that figure Akane, and having them fight together, makes it a celebration of their love... without the pressure of acknowledging it as such.

To cheer is to love, and while Ranma doesn't get this (refuses to perhaps) it's repetitively stated that you can't fake this stuff. He's correct that they are evenly matched, but unbeknownst to him, it is only because that guy is Akane. It's the only reason they win!

Sidenote: Kuno has given Ranma trouble so it’s notable that when Akane’s identity is separated from her roles as love interest/"normal" girl meant to contrast with the circus, she gets a bit of shine/praise usually reserved for male challengers. Kuno is fighting pissed and for real.

Nothing outside of Ranma’s real fights with other guys are “consistent” or taken seriously so I wouldn’t either. We’re told Akane is slow but she moved so fast here she fucking teleported with a new fit. (Not a manga for the power scaling hoes, I’ll tell you that much)

(If the plot needs it Akane will get it done. If it wants a Romantic Rescue, she won’t) (Note how the tone is different when Ranma fights as a girl. The challenges are deranged, exploratory, and very unserious – I mean, even more than usual. If it's a True Shonen Fight being a girl is a handicap. It is what it is)

“Ranma fights for her sake, Akane has his back,” seems like traditional male/female roles, so it’s interesting to see a reversal. I’d say doing so is saying that Ranma and Akane are equals. They’ll also do/push whatever mold/obstacle needs to be pushed for the other.

These panels really spell out how this arc is meant to "celebrate their love" (without pressure/shaking the status quo plot-wise at that moment). It encapsulates something we see whenever shit hits the fan, potentiated in the final arc: Ranma and Akane make a great team (the Power of Love etc)

Even if Ranma doesn't know that's Akane yet, their usually dynamic is still there, making it feel more authentic

(should have probably been obvious this is Akane at this point lol)

Something that really stands out to me too is that a match explicitly about love has Ranma teaming up with Akane in girl form. Look at Akane's reaction to a girl Ranma embracing her and saying they're in love.

While Akane "sheds her skin" to fight "as a girl" in the final stages, they still do the "romantic rescue" with Ranma as a girl, and the romance of it all is acknowledged as such. Akane revealing her identity also gives weight that "to cheer is to love" for all present

They even do a repeat of the "Ranma throws an 'I love you' to win a match and the gag is he said it to the person he's actually in love with, proceeds to freak out" with girl Ranma for good measure (they do this with him as a boy in the Nabiki as a fianceé arc)

It's not the first time we see romantic tension between them when Ranma is a girl. When she thinks girl Ranma is going to kiss her "we're both girls" is tied with "people are watching (public judgment)" ... Akane Tendo I know what you are

Just look at these reactions. At her excited little face when she hears "Ranma confesses he loves her." She's not any less excited because Ranma is a girl when she hears the confession... it's saying that Akane accepts Ranma just as he is (I know what you are Akane Tendo!!)

Miss cheerleader accepts her defeat because she acknowledges that the teamwork she witnesses between Ranma and Akane as romantic love (and at no point questions that those two are girls. Cheers to that)

At this point, I think Ranma likely knows on some level that he’s in love with her (as opposed to just liking her/finding her cute) (the specific way he denies it being a giveaway too lol) He’s just not ready to admit it and for others to know it.

The vulnerability of others knowing he’s extremely down bad for Akane goes against the manly strength he’s been taught and he doesn’t know how to deal with all the emotions (thanks Genma I guess). And Akane awakens too much.

Also, the arranged marriage means pressure as it makes the stakes of admitting his feelings so much higher... the noisy classmates also add to it, as it means Ranma never has the privacy he needs to process his feelings for her. If he has none at home or a school, where would he?

#ranma saotome #rankane #ranma x akane #akane tendo #ranma 1/2 #ranma ½ #tendo akane

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koushirouizumi · 6 months ago

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vimeo

{YU-GI-OH!} Duel Monsters ~ A.M.V ~ Yuugi & {Ace-implied!}Yami (Atem) [Reading in Aro-Ace!Yami is also Fine] {Just please respect my own head-canons too!} ~ "Bring Me To L i f e"

Summary: "I've been S L E E P I N G a T H O U S A N D Years it S E E M S-- -GOT TO O P E N M Y E Y E S to E V E R Y T H I N G..." Music © Evanescence/Amy Lee; also (C) Linkin Park (Backing Vocal Only) {This was made before the re-release of this song without them.} Spoiler Info: - Leads up to mid-beginning of End of “DOMA” Arc {Anime-Only sequences; not included in original manga} - {Mainly} D.M. {Duel Monsters} Only Eps

*Any Lip-sync'ng was unintentional {+Any similar Might be removed in any future remake}

YU-GI-OH! © Kazuki Takahashi Yu-gi-oh! Duel Monsters {Anime} © Studio Gallop This is a FAN-WORK. No $$$ is being made off this work.

{A.M.V. by (Young) Me} {DO NOT RE-POST} {DO NOT COPY} {DO NOT RE-PRODUCE My Works Under any Circumstances WITHOUT MY PERMISSION}

(Note: This is an OLD work {10+ yrs old}. and one of my 1st/oldest YGO D.M. A.M.Vs of the timeframe. The footage used will reflect this, as it was made before widespread transition into H.D. Footages. Please be understanding.) [There may be intent for me to remake it someday!]

Note: -This video’s embed may randomly not display at times, Showing like it’s “down”, but it’s not at this time! {It usually happens late at night[s] or seemingly when Tumblr and/or Vimeo is experiencing very high traffic} If that happens, please consider watching the Direct link here!

{I am NOT taking new AMV Requests (+for this series) at this time. Please DO NOT Ask!}

#feathershipping #koushirouizumi ygo #koushirouizumi dm #koushirouizumi own #koushirouizumi old dm #ygo: dm #yūgi mutou #yami yūgi #yūgi and yami #ace yami #demi yuugi #feather trio #(aaaND ONE OF THE OTHER {O L D E S T} ONES...)#({OK BUT})#({HI I STILL REALLY L O V E SOME t IMINGS HERE TOO---})#(Basically Yami is VERY RE-PRESSED A c e)#(Y u u g i is DEF Picking Up On That)#(in the end bc they s HARE A BODY MOST OF t IME YKNOW--)#({Yeah this is actually intended semi c ANONTM Compliant Too---})#(Eventually the back-ground Wisshhip comes in and Yami grows to be Supportive of them while {Y u u g i} realizes+accepts that Yami is Ace)#(Yami meanwhile ALSO OCCUPIES Same Body for Most of 'c ANONTM' so whatever Y U U G I feels for Jou YAMI FEELS IT T O O--- {In My Stuff})#({At some point I usually have things split off into A.U & then yEA THINGS MIGHT d IVERGE FROM THERE} {i.e. 'A t e m Lives'} BUT WELL SEE})#(This arc was super interestin to me Back then tho BC they ARE SEPARATE here for MOST OF These Sequences)#({so for once YAMI was seein Y U U G I from an O U T S I D E V I E W})#({thus YAMI Recognizes Y U U GI Cares abt Yami but YAMI k NOWS IN YAMIs h EART what YAMI is feelin TOO---})#({AND Y U U G I REALIZES TOO Its Basically Whole Point of This One})#the a u t h o r may have passed but in t HIS h OUSE we let them be q UEER #(I STILL NEED TO GET IT ONTO A.0.3 TOO AAAAAAA)#(ITS ONE OF THE ACTUAL o LDEST ONES aaaAAAAA {Yea im Back-dating this one}--- {will probs be on the 1st p AGES OF WHOLE SECTION---})#({b ASICALLY the J x Y ver. was 1st I think then bc I couldnt fit in all of Yami I tried one for just Their dynamic})

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crappymixtape · 6 months ago

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because of you • epilogue

PART I • PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • EPILOGUE ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 1k – a little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • E P I L O G U E 🎶 believer – piano version, SYML

❝ WE’VE BECOME ECHOES, BUT ECHOES ARE FADING AWAY, SO LET’S DANCE LIKE TWO SHADOWS, BURNING OUT A GLORY DAY ❞

Walking across the parking lot of Hawkins High with Steve Harrington’s hand in the back pocket of your jeans was a surreal feeling. Never in a million years did you think you’d be on speaking terms with him let alone dating him. You also didn’t think the world would end, so maybe being wrong was something to get used to.

Steve had a bag of clothes under one arm while you pulled a wagon of canned food and blankets behind you. It seemed like everyone was in need of something – shirts, coats, shoes, bread, cheese, shelter – and despite the way everyone had rallied against Eddie, they changed their tune quick after the news broke. Came together as a community to support each other through these unprecedented events.

The story came out that it had been a serial killer who’d murdered those poor kids, not Eddie, and it was all forgotten anyway the minute your little town suddenly turned into a war zone. Helicopters and tanks and soldiers, scientists and news crews from all over the nation. The ash hadn’t stopped falling since the Creel House and in the daylight the damage was so much worse than any of you had expected.

When Steve drove you home, it just simply wasn’t there. Swallowed up in one of four deep gashes splitting the earth at the seams. Your parents had survived, came back to see if maybe you’d go home to find them and tried to salvage whatever they could.

They’d sought shelter with your aunt on the other side of town, but Steve insisted you stay with him. Told you you’d have your own room and space and whatever you needed and when you expected a no, your parents surprised you with a yes, with relief. It was tight enough over at your aunt’s as it was and maybe it was better that way. With a friend – friend.

“Donations?” a volunteer asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“What?” you started, but Steve held up his bag.

“Yeah, yeah. Clothes, food, some blankets.”

“Great, that’s perfect. Clothes are on the tables at the far end of the cafeteria, food is being collected here in the quad and blankets go to the library,” the volunteer said and Steve thanked her with a small smile.

Even though you were bringing things to donate, it was a weird feeling knowing you’d likely be looking for things for you too. You wondered about everyone else. Wondered if they had lost everything too and hoped they hadn’t. Hoped they were all safe. The Wheelers, the Sinclairs, Max and Robin and Eddie–

“Holy shit–no way! Sweetheart, who’s that in your back pocket??”

As if summoned by your very thoughts, Eddie materialized at the bottom of the parking lot turning your cheeks cherry red, Steve’s hand still tucked into your jeans.

He gave Eddie a big grin and dipped down to press a kiss to your temple, “Shut up, Munson.”

“It’s Steve you idiot,” you snarked, lips tugged up in a little smile, no heat behind it and as soon as you passed the wagon off to a volunteer, your best friend was pulling you into a hug.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured into your hair, holding you tight to his chest. His voice wobbled a little and it made your throat squeeze. He’d brushed with death last night, just the same as you, and feeling him here – really here – was like a big sigh of relief.

“Wayne okay?” you asked quietly and he nodded, curls tangling with yours.

“Yeah, thank fuck,” he exhaled, finally letting you go to rub at the back of his neck. “Trailer’s totaled though.”

“My place too,” you commiserated and Steve’s grin faded as his realized just how much had been at stake outside of the party, outside of Vecna.

“Listen,” he started, clearing his throat, “My parents checked in this morning to make sure I was alright, but aren’t coming home anytime soon. If you need a place to stay there’s plenty of room…” Steve jammed his hands in his pockets, unsure if he’d crossed a line or was breaking some unsaid rule, but Eddie grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into a hug too.

“Thanks, man! God, that’d be great. Promise Wayne and I aren’t messy, we’ll clean up and help with dinner and the trash and–”

“Eddie,” Steve laughed, giving the other boy’s shoulder a squeeze, “It’s okay, I’m sure you’re fine.”

You were positive your heart was going to burst, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last 24 hours – mostly because of these two idiots – and both boys noticed at the same moment.

Eddie frowned, worried, “Hey, hey, what’s up?”

“Oh–shit–you okay, Princess?” Steve asked, his words blending together with Eddie’s.

“No, I’m okay–” you sniffled, pressing your palms to your eyes, half-laughing at how stupid you felt, “–you two just suck.”

Both boys laughed, we love you, and Steve pulled you under his arm, “Hate to say it, but I think you’re stuck with us.” He shot Eddie a look and the other boy grinned.

“Yep. Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie gave you one of his too-charming winks, “can’t get out of this one.”

You huffed a laugh and buried your face into Steve’s chest. Warm like summer and the sun, like safe and home, and when you pulled away to push up onto your toes and catch his lips between yours a voice echoed across the quad.

“OH MY GOD–WHAT?? STEVE, WHAT THE HELL?? WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU’RE DATING–”

“Oh, Christ–Robin! I’m right here, you don’t have to yell!”

[ I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF, THIS SCENE WAS SCREAMING AT ME LIKE ROBIN – YOU'RE WELCOME ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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starkeygirls · 1 month ago

Text

i n v i s i b l e s t r i n g

chapter 2

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: still working on writing this well - we'll get there when we get there.

wc: 4.1k

warning: none!

a/n: well, i wrote this whole chapter to hate it, start over and then still not be 100% happy with this one. hope this is at least okay! thank you all so much for taking time to read my silly little re-write! as always, please show your appreciation with reblog/comments/etc (reminder that it's really helpful to those who write ◡̈ )

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3

______________________________________________________________

Thoughts swirled in your head as you laid in your bed, seemingly sending flirty texts to none other than Rafe Cameron. The same Rafe Cameron that spilled beer on you without apologizing. Rafe Cameron, who seemed to fight your friends at every opportunity he could - with or without a reason. The Rafe Cameron who ended up being the reason your commission was so good during a dud week.

What the fuck were you doing? Watching as the three dots type and turn into a message, one that had the corner of your lips pulled up as you read it. Disgusting.

You two didn’t speak after that.

Waking up the following morning, you didn’t respond, and he never double texted. Better off that way, you thought. And it was solidified as you thought back to the party last night.

You paid no mind to the boy who walked along the beach like he owned it. Your eyes didn’t look for his in the crowd, and you couldn’t help the huff that escaped your lips as he cut you in line for a refill on beer.

Your head was pounding as you regretted nearly every thought you had to agree going to the party. Your sunglasses hadn’t left your face since you entered work, the lights were far too bright, the music was far too loud, and each and every customer was far too annoying. Typically, Saturday was your favorite day to work, but this was brutal. A part of you almost hoping that your boss would pop in and send you home for being out of dress code.

JJ’s voice rang through the small shop, your name echoing off the walls and piercing your hungover ears. Pulling yourself from the back room, your eyes rolled behind your sunglasses as he came into sight.

“You’re so fucking lucky there aren’t any customers in here?” You spat, also happy your shift mate was out grabbing lunch.

“That’s no way to greet someone in this fine establishment.” JJ teased, eyebrow raising as he turned his attention to the clothing hung neatly in place, pulling it from the rack and holding it up to his body. “What’s the verdict? Fashion icon?”

“The verdict is you would never buy that because it costs more than a day of work and you would stain it two hours.” You conveniently left out that it was a skirt he was mistaking for a tube top, there really wasn’t a thought in his brain. A giggle escaped your lips as you watched his eyes widen as he looked at the price tag, promptly putting it back on the rack and attempting to smooth it out as if he had never touched it.

“Anyway,” he started nearing closer to you, taking a glance around the small shop. “We were all meeting up at the dock, we were going to chill, drink some beers, swim a little. When do you get off? It’s clearly extremely lively in here, a real bustling shop.. Would be a shame if you closed early.” His shoulders shrugged, smile tugging on his lips as his brows raised.

“You know I can’t just close early. I don’t have the power to do that.”

“Please, you’re like vice president here and you work every day, you could pull some strings with Big O.” Your lips pulled into a small smile as you shook your head.

“I’m assistant manager, I have plenty of days off - in fact, my last day off you were too busy hooking up with some tourist to hangout, might I add, and Mrs. Overton would not like you calling her ‘Big O’, or like if I closed early.” Jeez, when did you become such a buzzkill? After your third hour of being hungover, that was for sure. JJ’s bottom lip jutted out, you wouldn’t shut him down without a fight and he wouldn’t leave willingly without seeing a text to your boss with the request.

–

Sitting on the side of the boat as John B drove, you assumed when JJ said “we” he hadn’t meant Kiara, Pope and Cleo, but instead, you found yourself with only JJ and John B.

“I can’t believe I convinced my boss to close early to hangout with you two..”

“I have such a way with words.” JJ’s cocky tone was enough to make you roll your eyes and send a middle finger in his direction. In reality, YOU had a way with words. The way you respectfully pointed out that sales had been down that day, in fact, they had been down the last few weeks. If you were able to leave, you could showcase what was on the floor in person, and you would be able to show up to your shift tomorrow with a new outlook on the sales for the week. You strategically left out your raging hangover, that was neither here nor there. Mrs. Overton quickly agreed, saying you needed to enjoy one of the last beautiful Saturdays of the summer before Autumn came in. She was too sweet for her own good.

“Did you notice Topper didn’t even look at me last night? Sarah was with me-”

“She was hanging on you.” You corrected, JJ reaching out to tap knuckles with you as John B cut the engine, dropping anchor in the middle of the marsh.

“Whatever, we were talking the whole night, and Topper didn’t make a single comment, no dirty looks, nothing.”

“Rafe and Kelce didn’t try anything last night, either.” JJ added quickly, peering over the sunglasses that covered his eyes as he cracked open a beer. You shooed it away as he offered it in your direction.

“Yeah well, Rafe cut me in line for a beer.” Shoulders shrugging, attempting to grasp at any bit of normalcy from the interaction you and Rafe hadn’t even shared.

“Well shit, call Shoupe. How dare he!” John B teased, JJ quickly laughing at the comment.

“Why did I agree to hangout with you two today?” Tone teasing, but they were lucky your hangover was dwindling as the time went on.

“Because we’re your best friends.” John B’s voice was a matter of fact, shoulders shrugging.

“Maybe Sarah had a talk with them. If you’re seeing her, I can’t see why she would let her brother and his friends fight with you guys.” There was a small murmur amongst the three of you, clearly that must’ve been the answer, right? You were just happy JJ had dropped the teasing he had been giving you, and happy he didn’t know about your late night texting - it still felt like a fever dream.

–

Floorset day.

It was the worst day, right ahead of shipment day. Having to unpack all of the new clothes, unwrap them, put them in size order and backstock was a nightmare. But you would rather do that than completely rearrange the store and dress mannequins.

You were fighting with a mannequin arm to try and put it back in its socket, you had already been whacked in the head, nearly tackled by a plastic person, and now you were standing with an arm between your legs, trying to shove the other one on. Letting out a huff as you continued to struggle, you heard the ding of the door. Of course someone had to come in right now. It’s always how it happened. Always when you were on the ladder changing a light bulb, or fighting with the mannequins- they couldn’t just wait ten more minutes to buy some overpriced clothes. Pulling the mannequin arm out of the polo shirt, you placed it on the table, turning to look at the door and who had just come in.

“Hi! Welcome in! I apologize for the-” You stopped, eyes glancing over Rafe who was looking right at you. Pulling your hair that had clung to your lipgloss, you stumbled over your words. “Uh- apologize for the mess. We just got in some new items.” Taking a deep breath, you smiled. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”

He was alone, and if it wasn’t for his behavior, you would have written it off, and turned your attention back to the mannequin, back to the ipad with how the floor needed to be set up. And despite your best efforts to pull yourself from the thoughts of Rafe Cameron that consumed and confused your mind, you couldn’t help but watch as he moved around the store. An internal fight broke out inside of you, wanting to just let the kook do whatever it is he came here for. He had already picked up his items- he came in empty handed so he wasn’t returning anything. Hell, you had told him to let you know if there was anything you could help him with, so why were you still watching?

You hadn’t seen him in a few days, your last interaction, if you could even call it that, was at the party a few days ago. No texts, not that you really expected any- it wasn’t like you had previously texted him on a regular basis.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to walk in on you manhandling your boyfriend.” He smiled. And you swore your heartbeat picked up. What the hell was going on with you? Distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever bullshit Shakespear would have said? Your life was not some cheesy romance movie.

“It’s okay, I prefer when I have an audience. I think it teaches him more of a lesson.” His lips pulled further into a grin, looking down to the floor in an almost attempt to hide his reaction. He paused by the rack of new items you had gotten in the day prior, eyes flickering to you as if silently asking if he was allowed to look through the racks. “Wait, actually there’s something we got in and I thought of you when I opened it.” You pulled the mannequin arm from between your legs, heels clicking as you stepped closer to him.

“You thought of me?” His brows raised and you felt a heat take over your face. You did what you did best and ignored his question, eyes trailing down the rack as your finger lightly ghosted each piece of clothing until you pulled the sweater out.

“So this is similar to that shirt you got before, but the fabric is a little thicker for when it gets colder. This color is a good transition color for going into fall, but-” You paused, pulling out another color. “This one is going to let you transition from fall into winter with the deeper tone. Not to mention you can put a button up underneath it to dress it up and also give you another layer. The style is also going to last you a while since it’s a staple piece, and if you like the color enough, it doesn’t matter what colors are in, you know?” You could feel his eyes on you instead of the sweaters you had pulled out, but once your sales side came out, there was no shoving her away. This is what you were good at, it was how you made bigger commission checks. “I noticed you wear more bright colors when you’re out during the day, assuming the country club? And then you wear darker when you’re with friends or at a party. And don’t flatter yourself with me saying I take note of these things, I like clothes. Anyway, you’re obviously not going to wear this sweater out with your friends or anything like that, it’s cashmere and wool- you would be sweating but I don’t know if you’re really going for pink sweater vibes either.” You grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the second rack. “I think this striped one is so nice. The navy and white stripes but not all the way up? It’s nautical but also just yells fall, paired with some brown pants-” You stopped yourself, almost embarrassed with how much you had rambled.

You watched as Rafe’s blue eyes scanned the clothing you had tossed his way, along with the newest sweater you had brought his attention to.

“New shoes I bought have navy on ‘em, right?” His brows furrowed, turning his attention to you. Your face perked up a bit.

“They do, and if you have the plain white, which everyone on The Eight does,” you paused, pulling at the original sweater you had shown him. “This would go, obviously because they’re white. They go with everything.”

---

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but Rafe was now helping you shove the arm onto the mannequin. He had bought almost all of your recommendations, despite the brown pants you reassured would be a good choice. He had nearly laughed in your face, but said he would be back if needed. He would be back when he realized you were right.

“So you’re the only one here today?” The brunet asked, a popping sound happening from the mannequin before he slowly released the arm, it staying in place on the torso. You nodded, arms up, ready to catch the arm should it fall.

“Yeah, they trust me to run the store?” You laughed, shaking your head as the concept still baffled you. Lowering your arms, you smoothed out your blouse, running your fingers through your hair as you looked around the store. It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting near the end of the day and the last thing you wanted to do was start another project and stay later than you needed to. “I’m not supposed to be the only one working since I lock up and could obviously take something, but I think my boss knows I need the money and I would be dumb to steal and lose my job.”

He nodded, taking a seat on the arm of a chair. Looking lost in thought, your own mind began to wander. The hour or so you had just spent with Rafe was actually… nice. Throwing different clothes his way, laughing as he huffed in the fitting room, mumbling a few “absolutely not’s” and rolling his eyes as he came out in a few of the ‘older’ styles, as you called them. He had even convinced you to try on a few outfits, and you couldn’t help but laugh at one of the combos he had chosen. You both laughed until your stomachs hurt.

It was almost domestic in a way, like the two of you had been friends for years. If you were being honest, the past drama, or whatever it had been was nowhere near on your mind. The way your friends teased you, the way Rafe and his friends had caused more trouble than good in your lives - the only thing you felt was happiness. You never expected to find yourself laughing with Rafe Cameron, never expected to have anywhere near a good time with him.

And now you found yourself locking up the shop, Rafe waiting for you outside as you set the alarm code and locking the back door. Your heels clicked along the cement, and with the fresh air hitting you, that’s when what you were doing really hit you. You were going to be seen out in public with a kook. Not just any kook, but Rafe Cameron. He seemed sure of it, had rattled off the two of you going to Duke’s a small restaurant that you had heard had amazing food, not that you could ever convince any of your friends to go. You accepted without much of a second thought.

But the second thought was hitting now.

“Did you want to put your things in your car?” Hands fumbling to put your keys in your purse and grip onto your sunglasses. He nodded as you slid your sunglasses on, he followed your motions, take his own off his head and covering his eyes with the shades. Following him to his car, you slid your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’. While a small bit of worry was coursing through your veins at the thought of getting dinner with Rafe, the last thing you needed was your friends bothering you- or figuring out where you were and making fun of you for actually giving him the time of day.

“You look nice today, you know.” Rafe’s voice was casual as he tossed the large bags into the backseat of his Range Rover. 2022 you assumed, maybe 2020, but there was no way it was any older than four years old. Despite the people you imagined getting in and out of it, it still faintly smelt like new car. You wondered how he kept the smell lingering around for so long. “You looked nice the other day, too. But I don’t know if cashmere is really something you should be wearing in the summer. You’ll sweat.” Oh, so he wanted to tease you now about what you had said to him earlier? Eyes rolling at his comment, you couldn’t help the corner of your lips pulling into a bit of a smile.

“It’s August, Cameron. It’s basically fall, and it was feather cashmere, anyway.” Your hand waved him off, a light giggle escaping your lips. “But thank you. I’m usually fighting the mannequin in a skirt or dress, but I learned this time.”

“You mean to tell me that Paul puts up a fight every time?” Of course he remembered you telling him how you had named all the mannequins, because why wouldn’t he? How could he possibly make himself anymore desirable in the moment? He couldn’t- you were sure of it.

It pained you, if you were being honest. The way he effortlessly made you laugh, and the way you were able to tease each other, firing back at one another. It reminded you of your nights with the pogues, though the sexual comments were yet to be found. He was actually respectful, which surprised you. Was it because he was alone? Why was he alone? Were you just some last resort when all of his friends were busy? You couldn’t think of that right now, no matter the reason, you had already spent time with him, you had already had a good time. You had already agreed to dinner.

–

Dinner had taken longer than you had expected- but it wasn’t in a bad way. You had actually learned a lot about Rafe, which was something you never thought you would say. That he’s a lefty golfer, which was a bit weird since he was a righty. You learned that despite living in Kildare his entire life, he didn’t have his boating license, and he was allergic to strawberries. You learned he was in the process of helping his dad with his company, but he couldn’t quite get all the trust he had hoped for.

Your cheeks hurt from how long you had been smiling. When was the last time you had smiled that much? You couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, not that it really mattered.

He smacked away your card as you attempted to tell the waitress to split the bill, a huff escaping your lips as you glared towards him. “I could have paid, you know. At least half.”

“Could have, but aren’t going to.” He said simply, flashing you a toothy grin.

“Well, I’ll leave the tip then.”

“Or, you could let me handle it.”

A huff escaped your lips, sliding the card back into your wallet, arms crossed against your chest. His lips pulled into a grin as he watched you admit defeat, your motions mimicking that of a child who didn’t get their way.

“Contrary to popular belief, we can actually pay for our own meals.” Your words were sour as they left your lips, feeling a sense of pity radiate off of him. His brows had furrowed. “If this was some charity case it can stop here.”

“Woah, woah.” Rafe’s hands found themselves up, confused at this sudden attack after a meal spent with laughter and aching cheeks from smiles. “I seemed to have missed where I insulted you? I think you left the station and took a hard left because where did I insinuate that you couldn’t pay?”

“When you decided to not even let me tip.”

“I did that as a kind gesture.” He added quickly. “Do you always attack people after they pay for your meal?”

“Only when they don’t let me tip.”

“Then I look forward to more arguments in the future.”

His words shocked you, your hands getting clammy at the thought of seeing him again, of sharing a dinner table with him again. A part of you believed this was just a nice gesture after spending some time together, surely he had just gotten hungry and decided to invite you along as opposed to eating alone.

Perhaps you were wrong.

“Thank you.” You finally mumbled, eyes meeting his. Suddenly your rings were the most interesting thing on the planet, toying with them on your fingers as you felt embarrassment creep up at your outburst, though also feeling a flush creep on your cheeks. Thankfully, the restaurant was dimly lit and you were certain Rafe wasn’t able to see the effect of his words. More arguments in the future, please.

The walk to your car was once again filled with laughter and teasing, something that you hadn’t been sure would be possible with someone like Rafe, someone who had always been so different from you and your friends. Someone who didn’t seem to understand the world you came from - not that you could understand his world any easier. As much of a facade as you put up in your fancy clothes, you were still from The Cut. You still had to work, and work hard at that, for everything that came your way.

But there was something easy about being with Rafe - not that you would admit that to him or your friends. Ever.

“Well, thanks for the clothing recommendations, still honored you thought about me as you pulled them out of the boxes.” You pushed his shoulder slightly at his words, a small ‘oh please’ mumbled under your breath at his words. “And I’m grateful the server took the knives away before I refused to let you pay.”

Reaching for your keys, you rolled your eyes at his remembrance of your outburst, you proclamation that yet again, there was a clear line in the sand from where you both stood on the island. That line in the sand becoming more apparent, yet again, as you unlocked your car which was strikingly different from Rafe’s flashy one. He didn’t mention it, but thoughts were once again flying rampant around your mind at just how different the two of you were.

“No, no. Thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to get that arm on without you, and I’ve dying to eat at Dukes. Really, thank you.” Your words were sincere, and Rafe was almost caught off guard by your lack of jokes. He kept it cool, as he had the whole time you spoke to him, in fact, as he had every time you spoke to him the last few days. A part of you wondered if that was just who he was, or if he was better at hiding his emotions than he lead on - at least with your friends.

As the two of you approached your car, you half waited for him to lean against the door, for the two of you to keep speaking for another hour. And a part of you almost wanted it.

“See you around?” He offered, an easy exit.

“See you around.” You confirmed, reality creeping in as you watched him nod, tapping the top of your car. Rafe offered you a simple ‘get home safe’ before turning on his heels and heading in the direction of his car.

Climbing into your car, you sat there for a moment, the whole day swirling around your head. You drove home with the radio on low, still trying to understand how you had really ended up at dinner with Rafe in the first case.

Not a date. You kept repeating to yourself, because while you had known of Rafe Cameron all your life, the Rafe Cameron that had sat across from you at dinner was brand new. Pulling into your driveway and making your way to your room, you finally pulled your phone from your bag, taking it off Do Not Disturb. Your phone flooded with messages from your friends, but none from him.

----------------------------------------------------------

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