#I HAVE TO TAKE SENIOR PICTURES SOON????????

[okcoolthanks]

Yay I love being terrified of the future

[loveinhawkins]

When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.

Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.

If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.

The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.

Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.

But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.

It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.

Almost every senior.

It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.

But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.

He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.

It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.

He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.

But actually sitting there is his own choice.

He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.

Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.

So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.

“Wanna sign?”

Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.

“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.

Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.

Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.

Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.

“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”

Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.

A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.

And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.

The bell rings.

Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.

Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.

But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—

“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.

It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.

Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.

“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”

Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.

Good luck, Steve. —Eddie

Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.

Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.

And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.

He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it altogether, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.

[8loveletters]

"is this everything you dreamed of?"

pairing: kim mingyu × fem reader

genre: smut, mutual pining (or: mutual lowkey unhealthy obsession lol), little fluff at the end

word count: ~4.7k

content warnings: mingyu is a few (like 3) years older than reader, reader is smaller than mingyu and has somewhat longer hair, voyuerism, mutual (kinda) masturbation, dom!mingyu, oral (both receiving), tit sucking/nipple biting, spanking (literally once), unprotected sex, doggystyle, big dick gyu.., filming a sextape (not to be seen by anyone else), creampie, multiple orgasms, sir kink, praise kink, manhandling, lots of pet names given by mingyu (baby/pretty girl, princess, sweetheart, etc. (but also slut/whore..)), mingyu is a lil rough but also a softie,, lmk if i should add anything else!

summary: you've been hopelessly in love with your best friend's older brother for the past decade. you've fantasized countless times about a future in which you could be together. but you've accepted the fact that it will probably remain just that -- a fantasy. that is until your best friend and roommate's weekend trip out of town leads to a rare opportunity. will tonight finally be the night that all your dreams come true?

this weekend would be the first time you were going to be completely alone in a really long time. you and your roommate have been best friends since middle school. so, it only made sense that you would move in together and become roommates when you went to the same college together.

now, it's been a couple years since you graduated but you're still living together. you both enjoyed it though. being with each other practically 24/7 never put a strain on your relationship the way you had heard from others that it might. but you knew the time would come soon that you would have to part ways as you both established yourselves in your careers and became more independent. also, you knew it was only a matter of time that one or both of you would find a romantic partner you were serious enough about to move in with. and this weekend seemed like the first step towards that for your roommate.

she and her boyfriend were taking a weekend trip together for the first time. before that, however, she was going to take him to meet her parents and older brother. it was a way of seeking their approval before taking this next step in their relationship. but frankly it seemed like just a formality, as she was so head over heels for him it probably wouldn't matter whether they approved or not.

you were bored in bed scrolling through your feed while some dumb reality show played on your tv as background noise. you saw the picture your best friend posted earlier that night of her, her boyfriend, and her family taken at the restaurant they had met at to eat dinner. you smiled when you saw how happy she looked. her boyfriend was good to and for her and you knew how excited she was to introduce him to them. you were relieved it seemed to have gone well by the looks on everyone's faces.

however, your eyes eventually locked onto the one face you were trying your best to avoid: her older brother mingyu's.

mingyu was a few years older than you and your best friend. you met him the first time you ever spent the night at her house at the beginning of the first year of middle school. you really hadn't developed any interest in boys yet, and your new friend's awkward older brother was no exception to this, so you really paid him no attention. that, of course, changed over time the more you grew up and became more interested in boys and the more he grew up and became more handsome.

your crush on him really started to grow your freshman year of high school. he was a senior at your same school and seeing him everyday in the hallways in addition to the multiple days a week when you hung out at your best friend's house instead of your own just intensified your feelings more.

you never let onto it though, not wanting to make your best friend uncomfortable. so many girls in your grade already gushed about him around her and you could tell how awkward it was for her. it did make you a bit jealous though, other girls talking about how attractive he was. even though he'd never date them, focusing more on playing sports and hanging out with his friends than fooling around with any girls despite his playboy looks, you couldn't help but feel jealous when they stated the obvious -- that he was hot as hell.

after that year, though, he went off to college and you saw much less of him during those years. you would think that would make your lame high school crush fizzle out, but well, absence makes the heart grow fonder as they say. you cherished anything you could get. the times you would be at the same family functions as your families had also become so close over the years it was like one big extended family. or the time he helped you -- sweaty and shirtless -- move furniture into the new apartment you and your roommate had rented in the dead of summer. or the times he'd be on a roll posting the most boyfriend-coded pictures on his social media for days on end before disappearing from them again for weeks.

and now, after all these years, you still can't bring yourself to commit to a relationship because you just can't stop thinking about him. and you had met some really good people over the years who would be really good partners. but you just weren't ready yet. you just weren't ready to give up on the delusion that you and mingyu could still somehow end up together.

you couldn't stop yourself from clicking the tag on the picture and scrolling through mingyu's profile for the millionth time. you also couldn't stop your mind from wandering straight into the gutter while your free hand wandered underneath the waistband of your sweatpants.

you know it's wrong. you've known it was wrong for about 10 years now. but you just can't help it. you want mingyu, your best friend's brother, desperately. in the worst way possible. you turn off the tv and toss your phone on the bed, letting yourself yet again be immersed in the fantasy of having mingyu deep inside you. you tell yourself if this dream could become a reality just one time, you'd be satisfied and able to move on. but for now, you try in vain to pleasure yourself with just your fingers even half as much as you're convinced his cock would be able to.

so lost in your delusions, you don't even hear the front door of your apartment open and shut.

at dinner, mingyu's sister had asked him to stop by the apartment on his way home. she had forgotten to water her plant and she figured you'd probably be out with your other friends since it was the weekend. maybe you might have heard him struggle twice before finally entering the passcode correctly, but your bedroom was farthest from the front door and you had left your bedroom door open only a crack out of habit. plus, not much could be heard over your pathetic moans and whimpers thinking about the man who was now in your apartment.

mingyu was never the most observant person, so he didn't notice anything as he went to water the plant. even when he did think he heard something, he just chalked it up to maybe the walls being thin and it being a neighbor with their tv up too loud. so, he set the watering can down and started to leave the apartment. that is until he heard something akin to a siren's call: your voice. after all these years, it was unmistakable to him.

his mind tried to convince him he didn't hear what he thought he did. while his body, more specifically his cock growing harder by the second, led him toward your bedroom door. toward a sound he had only dreamt of: you moaning in pure ecstasy. as he reaches your door, his brain tries one last futile attempt to persuade him that you must have left your tv on and that's what he's hearing. as a good guy looking out for your electricity bill, he'll just pop in real quick and turn it off...

mingyu slowly pushes the door open and sees exactly what he was both hoping and dreading at the same time.

you are sprawled out on your bed in just a tiny tank top and panties, your sweatpants discarded at some point to the middle of your floor. mingyu cannot believe how beautiful you look biting your bottom lip with furrowed brows, hair all disheveled. his hand has a mind of its own as it quietly unbuckles his belt and releases his throbbing hard length from his slacks.

mingyu knows it's wrong. he's known it was wrong for about 10 years now. you were his little sister's best friend. he should not ever have been attracted to you, nor should he still be. but he was and he is.

countless nights over the years he dreamed about you two being together. but he could never cross that line and initiate anything. especially since he could never quite gauge how you really felt about him. he thought there was something to the looks you'd give him, and the way you'd blush when you realized he'd noticed. but then you'd usually act so indifferent or at the most cordial when you were around him. so he was always wondering if those lustful glances were all in his head. but it was just enough to always keep him wondering about what it would be like to be with you. so much, that it was hard for him to be in any kind of serious relationship. no one could compare to you, even if it was just an idealized version of you.

"mingyu!"

his blood runs cold and he stops in place, hand mid-pump down his thick cock. he stays frozen in place like a thief who has just been caught red-handed. when his eyes look up from your hand in your panties that he was focusing so intently on to your eyes, he realizes they are still shut. you haven't seen him. then, why would you have screamed his name..?

"mingyu, please. i want-- need you so bad." you are desperately chasing a high that won't come because your fingers just aren't enough. mingyu realizes immediately what's going on.

you're fantasizing about him while you touch yourself so desperately. this finally confirms that all these years he really wasn't crazy. you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

his body takes over once again giving his mind no time to even try to be rational. within seconds mingyu is hovering over you on your bed.

your eyes shoot open and you scream, heart nearly stopping. when you come to your senses and realize that the man over top of you is, literally, the man of your dreams and not some random intruder you relax slightly. but that doesn't last long before your entire body is burning with embarrassment as you try your hardest to push him away from you and cover yourself.

"mingyu!" no matter how you say his name it drives him crazy all the same. "w-what the hell are you doing here?!"

"my sister asked me to stop by and water her plant and-- well none of that matters now. what i want to know is what you were just doing?"

mingyu is still towering over you, your attempts to move his large frame amusing at best. the look on his face is something you've never seen before, like that of a ravenous wolf staring down its meal.

"i, uhh, i was just--" you shift under his gaze and turn your head slightly. if you can't get away from him you at least want to hide how hard he's making you blush right now.

"cat got your tongue, baby girl?" his smirk is so evil, his voice so cocky. "how about i give you the rundown? you were playing with that pretty little pussy of yours imagining it was me deep inside you and not your fingers. sound about right?"

you can't bring yourself to look at him directly, but your body is fighting hard to let him know he's exactly right. with much resistance, you're able to give him a slight nod. but it's not good enough.

mingyu grabs you somehow both roughly and gently by the chin and forces you to look him in his beautiful brown eyes that are saturated with lust. "use your words, darling. is that what you were doing?"

"y-yes.." it's soft but seems to satisfy him and he lets go of your jaw.

"well this is no good. all these years i never dared try anything because it didn't seem you felt the same way. but here you were so desperate for me all along." mingyu repositions himself so he can spread your legs apart, eyes locking onto the soaked fabric of your panties. your face is still burning but your body gives up on trying to resist him anymore and you keep your legs spread wide while he stares for what feels like ages. "oh y/n... if you really wanted me this badly, all you had to do was ask."

"i--" your voice catches in your throat, but you gather all your strength and try again, way too needy to care about how pathetic you're about to sound. "i don't just want you mingyu.. i need you.. been dreaming about you in my guts for years now.."

mingyu chuckles and cups your cheek with his large hand, looking down at you like you're the most adorable thing he's ever seen. "well then, tonight i'll make all those dreams a reality for you."

within the time it takes you to blink, mingyu crashes his lips into yours, all but devouring your lips with his own. his kisses are passionate and sloppy, giving away just how much he's been waiting for this moment as well. he trails more kisses down your neck as you unbutton the nice white dress shirt he was wearing and throw it on the floor near your sweatpants. he clumsily takes off his slacks and underwear, leaving himself fully exposed while you were still (barely) covered by your small tank top and panties.

you take in his form, his chiseled body and long, thick cock making you clench around nothing and bite your lower lip. he smirks at your reaction for a moment before quickly moving down to the end of the bed, positioning his face between your thighs right in front of your dripping core.

without warning he drags his tongue along the length of your cunt over the ruined fabric. your moan makes him smile wide, fangs on full display. "mm, baby, already so wet just for me." he places a few kisses on your thigh, surprisingly soft compared to the rough ones on your mouth moments before. the teasing becomes too much for you though, and you buck your hips up on instinct trying to get more contact on the place you need it most.

you whine as mingyu pulls his head away and forces your hips down onto the mattress. "not so fast, sweetheart. i need to hear you say exactly what you want from me. be a good girl and ask nicely, and i'll give it all to you."

"your tongue.. need your tongue on my pussy. please, mingyu."

mingyu gives you a satisfied nod and wastes no time ripping your thin panties clean off you and tossing them aside. he dives straight into your folds, lapping at your cunt like a dog who hasn't drank anything in days. the sensation quickly becomes overwhelming and when he moves to focus his attention on your clit, you're brought closer and closer to the edge. you manage to get a few words out at a time between moans and heavy breaths. "mingyu, i'm so close.. c-can i please come?" you catch on quickly, knowing he probably wouldn't let you unless you asked nicely.

and it seemed to work. mingyu nods and lets out a hum of approval and that's all you need to allow your orgasm to overtake you. your hands grabbed at his thick, dark hair as you pulled him closer into your core, hips rocking back and forth as you rode out your high.

mingyu licked up all your juices as you came down and then looked up at you, chin wet and eyes looking even hungrier than before. he crawled back on top of you, kissing you somehow even more wildly than he had before. once he felt you had had enough time to recover from your first climax, he effortlessly picked you up and swapped your positions in one swift motion. he was now the one laying on his back while you were over top of him. you knew he must be strong with the way he was built, but you were a little speechless at the maneuver he just pulled off like it was nothing. once you snap out of it, you take advantage of your position being literally on top and try to take a bit of the control in this situation.

"now it's my turn to make you feel good. would you like that, hm? like to see me choking on that big dick?" you grind your core down onto his rock-hard member as you ask, eliciting a quiet groan from mingyu's throat. when he doesn't answer right away, you decide to rephrase the question in a way that makes him feel he still has all the control. "can i please suck your cock, mingyu?"

he nods and you get right to work. you position yourself between his legs and are a bit taken aback when you see just how big and thick he is up close and in detail. you lick your lips at the sight and get started. you bob your head up and down a few times, stopping only part of the way down as you don't think you'd be able to take all of him. this isn't good enough for mingyu however and he suddenly wraps your hair tight around his hand and pushes your mouth down his full length. the pain of his tip pushing at the back of your throat brings tears to your eyes, but it feels so good at the same time.

after bringing your head back up and letting you catch your breath for a moment, mingyu starts relentlessly fucking your mouth. the sounds that fill the room are so filthy and it's like music to his ears. "look at you. so pretty while i fuck your mouth. such a beautiful little slut for me." you moan at his praises, tears streaming down your cheeks. the vibration of your voice around him is enough to finally push him towards his climax and his thrusts become sloppier but more forceful. "fuck, baby, feel so good choking on my cock. you ready to swallow my cum like a good little whore?" you do your best to nod your head in agreement and seconds later you feel him unload down your throat. when he's finished, he pulls out and you swallow hard. you open your mouth to show him you took it all and he smiles, a little out of breath. "good girl."

the way he praises you makes your heart skip a beat. all you've wanted for so many years was to be with him like this. and even if this is the only chance you ever get, you're glad you could make him feel good and be his good girl for the night.

you think mingyu might need a minute to recover, but you're amazed when he's ready to go again almost immediately. he quickly sits up and begins messily making out with you again. as he does, he finally pulls off your tank top which somehow has stayed on this whole time. once your tits are free he takes a moment to look at them in awe. then, he's kissing and sucking on them just as gently as he had your thighs earlier. you appreciate the way he can be so rough and so gentle with you, making you feel better than anyone you'd ever slept with before.

the stimulation on your nipples heightens your arousal, but you need more. "mingyu.."

"what is it, princess?"

"please-- can you please fuck me? need you inside me now." your last word comes out more like a moan as mingyu lightly bites your sensitive nipple before pulling away to look you straight in the eye.

he can see the way your eyes beg for him and he just can't keep you waiting any longer. he throws you onto the bed on your stomach, the way he can just toss you around so effortlessly like a doll turning you on even more. he positions you with your head down on your pillow, ass up in the air as he gets on his knees behind you. then, he notices something that catches his eye: your phone that you had tossed onto the bed next to you earlier. it gives him a naughty idea and he grabs it quickly and before you can react, he's got the camera app open and recording a video.

"mingyu, what are you doing?!" suddenly you feel shy all over again.

"just filming a little something so you know this wasn't a dream." as he says this, he runs his tip through your folds, camera angled perfectly to capture everything. your shyness subsided and all you can think about is him finally rearranging your guts.

"ah, don't tease," you whine. "please put it inside. please, gyu." the nickname and the begging tone of your voice somehow make him harder, if that was even possible. he intends to oblige, but first, he hands you your phone.

"i'll give you all that you're begging for and more. but you gotta keep the camera on that pretty face of yours while i fuck you stupid. got it, baby?"

you nod and feel mingyu's hand come down and smack your ass, clearly not content with your lack of a verbal response. "not good enough, dear. need to hear you say it. do you understand?"

"yes, sir."

he groans, showing he clearly likes when you address him this way. as soon as you get the camera angled perfectly on your face, mingyu slowly starts pushing into your entrance.

"oh, fuck." you both say it simultaneously. his cock is so thick inside you and your pussy is so tight around him. you're not sure all of him will even fit, but he keeps slowly pushing in further and further until he bottoms out with a deep groan.

"that feel good, princess?" he stays still inside you, giving you time to adjust to his massive size.

"mm, yes, feels so good. filling me all the way up so fucking perfectly." you make direct eye contact with the camera as you speak, having enough foresight to know how hot it will be when either of you watches it back later.

mingyu takes this as his cue to finally start moving in you. he pulls back slowly, almost pulling all the way out before harshly thrusting back into you. you basically scream as he hits your sweet spot, nearly dropping the phone before quickly repositioning it. he then starts thrusting in and out of you at a steady and relentless pace.

the room, and probably your entire apartment, is filled with your moans and the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the camera capturing it all along with the tears that begin falling down your cheeks once again.

"fuck, baby, you're so tight. feel so fucking good clenching around me. better than i ever imagined. is this cock everything you dreamed of?"

"fuck, mingyu. so much better. so much bigger. fuck, just like that. please keep using my pussy just like that. it's all yours. i'm all yours, mingyu." you just keep babbling on, coming closer and closer to exploding again. the way you keep clenching around him is bringing mingyu back to the edge again as well.

"damn, baby, i'm so close. tell me where you want my cum and i'll let you come as well."

"inside. please, sir. i want you to come deep inside me. fill me up, please, gyu." you meant it when you said you were all his. and you wanted all of him, every last drop, inside of you.

after a few more strokes you both started coming undone. you tried your best to keep the camera focused on your face, but the video was probably going to come out just as shaky as your whole body was right now. mingyu painted your walls with his thick, hot white ropes of cum that mixed together beautifully with your own juices.

he stayed inside of you as you both caught your breaths a little. he reached forward and grabbed your phone from your hand, and focused it again on your cunt as he slowly pulled out. once his member was fully removed, he zoomed in on your hole as the mixture of liquids began to leak out and down onto the sheets below you.

once he felt like he got all the footage he needed, he locked your phone and threw it back onto the bed. mingyu could see you were too exhausted to move much on your own, so he went into your bathroom to get some towels to clean both you and the sheets up a bit before crawling into bed and cuddling with you.

he began petting your hair and showering you with praises. "you did so well, pretty girl. took my cock so well and looked so beautiful coming undone just for me." he kissed your forehead and you snuggled up closer to him, feeling so safe and warm in his big arms, comforted by the sound of his heart beating through his chest. you lay just like this for a bit before looking up at mingyu.

"thank you." he looks at you confused, cocking his head to the side like a curious puppy.

"thank you for making my dreams come true. even if it was just for one night.. i'm so happy to finally be with you like this."

mingyu looks a little upset at your words and you start to panic internally, fearing you've said something wrong.

"you don't have to thank me. i've wanted this just as badly, you know. but--" he stops for a moment but eventually continues. "was this just a one time thing for you?"

you're taken aback by how upset and almost insecure he seems, compared to how confident he had been all night.

"no!" it comes out a bit more panicked than you intended and you tried to calm yourself before continuing. "i just assumed.. i mean, would you want to do this again?"

"of course i would. you're the only girl i've wanted for years now, y/n. now that i've had you, i don't think i can ever let you go."

"but what about--" you stop yourself, realizing it would be weird for both of you to bring up your best friend and his younger sister while you're both laying naked together in bed after what you've just done. "are you sure?"

mingyu rolls over on his side, getting in a better position to look you in the eye and show you how sincere he is. "i've never been more sure about anything in my life. i'm completely yours, as long as you'll have me."

your eyes start to well up and you blink a couple times, mostly to make sure one final time that you're really not dreaming, but it also causes the tears to start streaming down. mingyu quickly wipes them away and caresses your cheek.

"of course i will, mingyu. you're literally a dream come true for me. like i told you earlier, i'm all yours."

mingyu pulls you closer to him and kisses you long and hard. when you finally part he just rests his forehead on yours for a moment and smiles, eyes still closed. when he's finally soaked up the moment, he quickly gets up from the bed leaving you a bit confused. he then walks around to your side and picks you up bridal-style without warning. you squeal at first and then start to giggle. he finds it so endearing how adorable you are and chuckles along with you.

"come on, pretty girl. let's go get properly cleaned up and get some well-deserved rest." he carries you across the room toward your bathroom so easily, as if you weigh nothing in his arms.

"yes, sir." your voice is so teasing now, completely unlike how you said the same phrase earlier that night.

"don't tease me, love. not unless you're ready for round two."

you smirk as you look up at him, still holding you while standing still in the doorway to your bathroom.

"i'm ready if you are."

a/n: this is my first nsfw piece so i hope it's okay 👉👈 any constructive feedback is greatly appreciated!! also, if you liked this please check out my other works here, and please reblog instead of just liking!

[sturniholo]

the only exception - matt sturniolo

in which matt shows the reader what love should look like

matt x fem reader !

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

The sound of my mother’s screams ricocheted off the walls as I lay in bed. This was a sound I was all too familiar with, as it happened almost every night. My dad would do or say something to upset my mom, which resulted in a big argument.

However, tonight was worse than it had ever been. The sound of my parents' bedroom door slamming made me shoot up from my bed. Loud steps could be heard going down the stairs. I could hear cries in the hallway, making me get out of bed.

My mom stood at the top of the stairs, mascara running down her face. My heart broke as I heard her sobs. She always held herself together, putting on a tough front for her kids, but tonight she just couldn’t.

Instinctively, I made my way over to her, making her immediately wipe her tears. She wrapped her arm around me, pulling me into her side. She sniffled loudly, occasionally letting out a soft cry.

My dad on the other hand packed a bag and made his way down the road. He was too angry to be at home and needed to get away. He had done this before, so it wasn’t shocking. He was never gone for long, and would usually come back the next day. But this was the final straw.

It had been a whole week and he still didn’t come home. I then learned that my parents had split up that night. Ever since then, I could finally sleep at night, with no interruptions from either of them.

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

I stared off at the wall as my older sister leaned on my shoulder, letting out gut-wrenching sobs. Her boyfriend of two years had cheated on her, which obviously made her upset.

My hand rested on her back, rubbing soothing circles on her skin. Her tears rapidly fell on my shirt, creating a wet patch, but I didn’t mind. She needed a shoulder to cry on, so of course I was there for her.

In my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder what led to this. They had seemed like the perfect couple. He was always at the house, cuddled up on the couch with her. The picture of her waltzing around the house, waiting for him to pick her up for their date entered my mind.

But there she sat, crying her eyes out over him. Letting tears fall from her eyes and snot drip from her nose as she let it all out.

From that point on, I didn’t allow myself to get into a relationship. I pushed away any feelings I developed for anyone if I even allowed myself to develop those feelings. And I was quite content with that, as other things in life brought me happiness.

I stuck to this philosophy for years, until something changed. During my senior year, I met a guy. His name was Matt. We sat beside each other in history class, which we both found boring. However, we quickly became good friends, which made history class something to look forward to.

As the school year progressed, I found myself developing feelings for him. I tried my absolute best to push them away, but as soon as he flashed me a smile, they all came rushing back.

Soon, prom season came around. All of my friends were excited. They couldn’t wait to dress up, go out to eat, and slow dance with their date. But on the other hand, I couldn’t care less. I thought prom was a waste of time, especially if you went with a date.

However, Matt convinced me to go to prom with him. And safe to say, it was the most fun I have had in a long time. We danced all night, occasionally sneaking off to steal food from the snack table or take pictures in the photo booth.

A few months later, I came to a terrifying realization. I liked Matt. A scary amount. Due to these feelings, I began to distance myself. I would decline hangouts or leave him on read for a few days.

Eventually, this caught up with me. One day he came to my house, quite aggravated. I remember it as clear as day.

I quickly jogged down the stairs, making my way to the front door. I pulled it open, revealing Matt. He wore a slightly aggravated expression, making me knit my brows. “Matt, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? You haven’t answered me in three days and you wonder why I’m here?” He pushes past me, leaving me dumbfounded. I close the door and follow him into my living room.

He’s sitting on the couch, leaning forward. I sit on the other end of the couch, keeping a good distance between us. “You can’t even sit near me. Seriously, what’s going on with you?” He looks over at me with a hurt expression, making me feel awful.

“I’m scared,” my voice breaks as I speak.

“Why?”

I look away from him, turning my attention towards my lap. “Because I like you so much it scares me.” I felt a hand on my thigh, causing me to look over to him.

“You shouldn’t be afraid because I like you too. It’s been killing me that you’ve been ignoring me, y/n.” As his words sunk in, my heart couldn’t help but pound. To hear those words took a huge weight off my shoulders.

A few weeks later, Matt asked me out on a date. To say I was excited was an understatement, but I still had my worries. What if it all went wrong? What if I never spoke to him again after tonight? Those thoughts ran through my mind as I got ready.

As our date came to an end, I couldn’t help but smile. I had the best time tonight. Matt picked me up and took me to my favorite restaurant. He paid and even ordered me a dessert.

Now here we were, back at his car. I was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window when I felt a hand on my leg. I turned to look at Matt, a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

“I had a great time tonight.” His hand moved up my leg, resting on my thigh. As he began to caress the skin, I couldn’t help but ease into his touch.

I gazed into his eyes, allowing myself to get lost in them. “Me too.” My eyes flickered down to his lips, making him smirk.

Before I knew it, he was leaning in. He placed his lips on mine, his hand gripping my thigh. My hand found his jaw, my lips moving on his. As we kissed, I couldn’t help but smile.

He pulled away, a big grin on his face. “Be my girlfriend,” he blurted. My eyes widened at his words. “Please,” he breathed out.

I thought for a moment, my mind racing. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend, Matt.”

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

That night changed my life for the better. It’s exactly why I’m in the position I am now.

My eyes slowly fluttered open as the sun peaked in through the curtain. I stirred around in bed before slowly sitting up. My movements were constrained as I felt Matt’s tight grip around me. His arm was wrapped around my waist, keeping me close to him.

I couldn’t help but smile as I looked down at him. He was peacefully sleeping, his mouth slightly open, allowing soft snores to escape. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He stirred beneath me, his eyes slowly opening. A yawn left his lips as he rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up. “Good morning, baby,” he said as he pulled me into his side.

“Good morning, babe.” He placed a kiss on my forehead, making me smile. I watched as he sat up, pulling the covers off of his body.

“I’m gonna make us some breakfast. Pancakes sound good?” I gave him a nod. I watched as he left the room, a smile on my face.

Simple things like that remind me how lucky I am to have Matt. Had I let my fears get the best of me, I would have missed out on love others spend their whole life searching for.

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

a/n: shoutout to all the girlies with divorced parents and a fear of intimacy…😭 ily

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 7 |

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna. Perhaps an emotionally stunted softie who can’t communicate after used to being worshipped by everyone?

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: With the School festival coming right up the corner, your class choosing the Maid Cafe and you dressing up as a Maid. Satoru has to pull a few strings of his own. He may not be your bully anymore, he still is a spoiled boy who wants what he wants.

Between the haze of studies, and the workload because of the festival preparation, two weeks had passed. Satoru? Yeah, Satoru has gone more and more normal you'd say. He doesn't bother you apart from the occasional greetings. Sometimes he would smile and wink at you during the cafeteria where you settle with your friends; they are enamoured by the snow-haired king of school. Both the best friends, Satoru and Suguru are so sought out, you are worried it would end up in you getting into trouble because of it. Satoru is hell-bent on giving you the attention you don't need. You don't wish him good morning upfront when you accidentally catch him in the corridors, he does. Never failing it even once. The people who hang out with you have started to taunt you because of it.

"If it was up to me, I would have also spilled my lunch on his shirt. Maybe then he would notice me like he does, you, Y/N." Your eyes roll back a total of 360 degrees. This, this very behaviour was the reason Satoru was able to humiliate you so many times. The reminders aren't needed. The brutal reminders of you wishing you had no school, of you wishing that maybe he would have a change of heart and leave you alone. All because you said he collided against you purposely. Insufferable, Satoru Gojo was truly insufferable.

The cafeteria was echoing with the whispers, laughs, and discussions of your classmates and seniors alike. This was supposed to be festive time of course. Everyone was busy with something. As for you, this was your break. You had just finished giving your sizing for the maid costume. You hope it would look good on you at least, and you would get some memorable pictures. The thought of the School Festival commencing soon makes you giddy. You're not one of those emo loners anyway, you'd rather enjoy. "Hello Y/N san." One of your classmates diverts your attention, your gaze wanders up at him, reflexively shifting in your bench with the tray of your food so he could sit next to you. "Hello!" You chirped, watching him glance at you in a weird way, what's so weird about it? Well, Satoru looks at you the same way, as if you were a movie. You gulped, the stare was awkward. "So, what did you need?" You asked, raising an inquisitive brow. "Uh, nothing, just wanted to ask if you would participate in cooking as well? Some of the girls have been given the opportunity to dress up as maids, the others are going to be cooking." You think about it, this was pre-decided that you would be wearing a maid-costume. When the discussion happened, you were chosen pretty easily for the same.

"Hmm, I don't think I'm a great chef to be honest." You half chuckle, shrugging. The boy nods, gnawing at his lower lip. He seemed, almost nervous. As if he didn't know what to do if you didn't agree with him. "Why? What's the problem?" You asked again, trifling with your food now that your curiosity was piqued. "N-Nothing as such, it's just, you know Y/N there are going to be people from different schools, seniors- and I don't want anyone to hit on you." His cheeks are beet red when he says that. You raise a brow, you don't know how to take it. "Uh, thanks? I can take care of myself. Didn't take me much time to knock a shitty senior out in this very cafeteria?" You lean back, observing his face. He was looking more and more nervous by the passing minute. What is going on? "You know, I appreciate whatever you thought about me, but I can handle myself and take care of myself. Anything else?" You asked politely, unsure why you are being talked-to like you're a damsel in distress who wouldn't be able to take care of herself from hormone raging teens. "Sorry." He pouted, looking down. "I know it must sound like I am trying to control you - but you should remember I only want what's best for you." You want to puke, you barely know the dude. "Do you have a crush on me?" You cut to the chase, this was getting redundant/ "Who? ME?!" He exclaimed, leaning back, stuttering, "N-No of course- I mean, no- not like- Y/N you are pretty." "Thank you, I'm assuming you do have a crush on me?" He shakes his head no, timid again. "I don't want to die by the hands of Gojo san if I become brave and do agree."

Ah, there it is. Gojo San coming and looming in all over you again. "I understand, so you mean he likes me and he doesn't want anyone else to like me else he'll beat their ass?" The boy looked conflicted, should he? Really tell about all that? He wonders about the pros and cons - beaten up by Gojo to a pulp versus being your friend.

"Y/N, please don't discuss this with him." He begs, eyes pleading submissively. You roll your eyes and sighed, fine - you will keep your mouth shut about it. "Yeah, I promise. Won't share anything won't confront him, never heard of it." "He- uhm, ever since he knows that our class is going to do a Maid-café, he's closely supervising things with Shoko san & Geto san." "I never saw him? What do you mean? I never saw him come and check things?" You raised a brow, you were so sure his chapter was a closed one. You barely talked to him apart from having casual small-talk where you both don't ignore each other's existence. "Well, he did. Mostly timed when you were busy, he decided the menu, he interfered with the maid costumes. When everyone was against the long skirts and the full sleeves he threatened that he would have our class not participate at all. When we asked him what we could do so he could let us have some freedom to organize 'our own' activity - he mentioned he doesn't want you as a maid." A broken sigh escapes your classmate when he's done confessing.

You were.. fuming to say the least, every nerve ending pumping with boiling blood. So he is going to make everyone else suffer because he can't have you in a maid costume? "Then?" You raised a brow, this wasn't any conclusion. "Then I said I could talk to you about it, you're pretty and we hoped we would make a lot of money if you were to participate but Gojo San said he could cover the monetary side of it without any issues. Which left us with one final option, you could either opt out of being a maid, or we don't do it."

Ridiculous, fucking ridiculous.

"Why?" You snarled, what the fuck? "Well, because- as he said, he doesn't want other 'men' to look at you and create all sorts of scenarios in their head. He will have to take things on his own hands when that happens - and he wants to avoid that. I mean - avoiding beating up boys and ruin the festival." "Oh how kind, Gojo San is so kind, no?" You scoffed, sighing. Your classmates depended upon you, and you were once again caught in a clutch by Gojo Satoru. He gets what he wants doesn't he? "Tell him that I will be doing maid. Tell him to die mad about it." You got up, hearing the sound of the lunch-end bell and stomping away.

------

Gojo hasn't come back to you, it's been two days. You are sure your classmate had communicated everything to him clearly. Weird. This dude was so fucking weird. You are taut by your own promise to him though, you wouldn't talk to Gojo about it and risk the very foundation with which he trusted you. A lot has been on your mind since, if he likes you, he has no idea how to show it. Besides, doesn't even… matter if he likes you or not. You wouldn't forgive him… right? "Come on, don't be so pouty just because you're losing!" You heard his familiar voice from the basketball court. "Your glasses aren't working properly if you think I'm losing." You heard Geto remark back. Basketball, Satoru and Suguru are playing basketball. You didn't want to be a lurker but you do peek inside, watching the tall hunks play around alone. Every thud of the ball, every chuckle, every snicker and every goal sounding evidently in the echoes of the empty hall. "Peeking's no good." Satoru smirked, looking at you. You have no idea how grateful he is right now. He caught 'you' looking at him. "Sorry-" You mumbled, clearly accepting your mistake when you are at fault, unlike the fucking cafeteria incident. You were NOT at fault back then. "Whatcha lookin' for?" Satoru asked, playing with the ball and dribbling it while walking towards you. "Nothing, just got my 'final' maid costume." You answered, eyes trying their best not to glare at him when you say so. He hums, "Yeah? Gonna be a maid I hear." He cheekily grins. He heard… as if he doesn't know the bits and pieces of everything minutely already. "That's right, 'very excited' for it." You emphasize, and his eyes visibly softened, the pupils humanly dilating and a soft hum escaping him. "Mhm?" "Yeah" You grin back at him, unsure how to continue the conversation further.

Satoru was, dying. He didn't want to become what he was when you two met, and the way you said you were excited about it, he doesn't want to rip that all off because of his own spoiled wishes. It's a complex web of thoughts. On one moment Satoru wants to claim you as his; no one is even allowed to think about you wrongly. Keep you enclosed with him, marry you even? Breed you so you know you're his. Make babies so he gets a perfect blend of you and him. The other bit of him, wants to let you live so he can hopefully become a safe space for you. Help you trust him which he has ruined, show off the person he likes- loves- he doesn't know whether it's like or love yet.

"Well, I'll see you around." You distract him from his thoughts instantly. His lips part and brows furrow a little in resistance, "Well- shyeah."

He glances at Suguru once you leave.  You're going to be a maid and he wouldn't be able to do 'anything' about it when that brings a smile like 'that' on your face.

[heelluring]

— wherein your boyfriend, heeseung cheated...

warnings: C H E A T I N G, caught in an act redhanded, angst angst angst, cursing, sex, hoping bad things on someone, punching and slapping, melted ice cream (?)

You can't deny that the relationship between you and heeseung are starting to blur. It started with a simple, 'i'm tired...' until it escalated into no calls for almost a week. Tried to be an understanding girlfriend, giving him as much 'space' as he wants that maybe, you regret doing so. It feels like it just cause further drift in between you two.

You tried asking for help though, that's when your sister, rina came into picture. Your sister tried to reassure you, she is working at the same company as heeseung does and as his senior. "He's just tired, the company's expecting everything to be perfect for this upcoming project and everyone is tensed." She said dismissing your worries when you met her for a coffee.

"You really think so, unnie?"

"I swear, after this week hee will just come back to you as if nothing happened" You were delighted when you heard that. But, when did your sister called your boyfriend by his nickname that you only have the privileged to use? BUT THEN AGAIN, you're still happy with the reassurance she gave you. Holding out hope that you didn't poke around the 'nickname' incident too much. Maybe after working for the same company, they became close. Perhaps, rina and heeseung became each other's support system as they struggle to work in a toxic environment. That made you feel relieved for some reason.

True to her words, heeseung came back to you like nothing happened in the following week. He was all smiles, the happier ever since you seen him. You felt like the past came back when the both of you are just starting with your relationship. Heeseung was so attentive when he came back that time, saying he wanted to spend time together as a payment for all the times the two of you didn't got to do what the other couples do. You were happy, so happy. All the doubts, concerns, and insecurities was once again burned down the ground.

There's also a time where you invited rina to have lunch with you and heeseung, with also the purpose to thank her for reassuring you but of course, heeseung doesn't need to know about that. And so, with the three of you in a table, you can't help but smile and enjoy the company of the two people you love. Can't help but to laugh at their antics as they talk and tell silly stories together.

Then, heeseung had to go into a business trip. He said this would be his ticket to get a promotion, and as his girlfriend, you let him go with a heart burning support. Reassuring, and taking care of everything he need until he left. Weeks passed by and you haven't heard of him. Aside from the occasional, 'I'm okay... don't skip breakfast' there was nothing. No calls or video calls.

And, you understand. Heeseung was working so hard to get this promotion and the only thing you can do to support is by waiting for him. Just like today, as always... you tried your luck, maybe he's free and having his lunch right now since it's morning in the New York whilst it's late at night in Seoul. Maybe he'll finally pick up the phone since according to rina the company is doing some finishing touches and will be back at the end of the week, and besides there's only a 12 hours difference. You always make sure to call him in the morning to not disturb him so now that heeseung will be back soon, you were filled with hope. But then,

The number you have dialed is either—

he's not answering. You tried to dial his number again but it still failed. It's not even ringing, perhaps his phone died. Maybe he's too tired, is he even eating well? You can't do anything but sighed, and continued to walk. With a tab of ice cream in your hand, you finally saw Rina's apartment building. After confirming your identification to the security, you waited for the elevator.

Ever since heeseung left, you tried spending time with your sister. Growing up, you're not that close. And after her help with regards to your relationship, you felt something sparked in between of you causing you to wonder what happened for the two of you to grow apart. Seeing this as an opportunity to build connection, you tried hanging out with her. But, she's been busy for a while. Always saying that you two will hang out once all her work is done. You were concerned about her, of course. It looks like the company is giving her a hard time so you stepped up your game. What could comfort her better than a good creamy ice cream, right?

The elevator produced a sound the same time its doors opened to the intended floor. You calmy took a step, mumbling the unit number over and over again. "205... 205..." You carefully looked at the unit number before finally stopping at the right door. You were about to knock when the door moved open slightly at the sudden force from your knuckles. It didn't create a sound though, the door wasn't locked at all. Or, maybe rina thought she did locked it but failed to do so the last time she used it.

You, then pushed it completely open as the silence greets you. All the main lights are off aside from the light and soft sounds coming from the living room. You started walking through the entrance, and after sensing that there's a person, it automatically opened its lights. A pair of men's shoes scattered lousily at the floor. Your sister obviously got a visitor.

You continued your venture until you came into the living room. The light and the sound you heard earlier came from the TV as you expected, the soft buzz of the actors' voices where the only sounds heard in the entire apartment. Your eyes then travelled to a certain direction, and was greeted by a rather familiar suitcase. Your heart beat in a rather uncomfortable way. You were getting nervous from the thoughts that are slowly creeping inside your mind.

"It's impossible, y/n. Heeseung's still in new york..."

You sighed, trying to control your breathing that you didn't even noticed escalating the same time as your heart beat. After getting courage that you didn't even know where you get, you started walking closer to the couch. A piece of clothing one after another revealed in your eyes. You tried to calm yourself but the way your hands trembled says otherwise, as you bravely grabbed the neck tie that is disposed on the couch together with the others.

It's a classic dark blue with an elegant design. A design that you are so familiar with as the one who personally picked and gifted it for heeseung's birthday last year. You clutched it closes to your heart, as the other one made in contact with your mouth, tears slowly filling your waterlines.

"Ugh—" Your breath hitched at the sound, head swiftly looking at the direction of the master's bedroom to your side. You frozed completely, even your breath stopped. The only thing you can feel is the way you heart beats as you wait for another sound. Maybe it's all in your head, a hallucination. You decided to walk closer to the door, now all numb and deprived of normality.

You thought you're dead inside but what you see on the other side of the door is what further killed you. "Ugh, shit, hee! You're fucking me so good baby. Yes—" It was your sister getting fucked by your boyfriend of 3 years on the bed. You can clearly see how heeseung's cock disappear in her hole as he thrust. How her eyes rolled at the back of her head in every rut. Groans, moans, and slap of skin to skin were the ones dominating the whole room. How can you not hear them the first time you walked in? How can you not see all the signs?

That's when you realize, you were blind all along. How can you not suspect when your sister called your boyfriend by his nickname? How can you not doubt all the smiles and subtle touches they do at the lunch you three did? How can you be so oblivious all this time?

You sighed despite the shaky breath, as you swipe the tears away. This will fucking end now, and you'll make sure to see the end of it as you look at the security camera blinking in corner of the ceiling.

As the moans increased, you decided to kick the door with all the strength you had making it swung open with an alarming noise together with the panic screams you induced to the two people on the bed.

"Shit— Y/N!" Heeseung cursed getting dressed in panic as rina hugged the sheets to cover herself. "Y/N... this is not what it looks—" The man stopped his blabber when you throw the tab of ice cream at them and to everyone's surprise the now melted chocolate ice cream spilled everywhere staining the bed and the two. "We're over..." You said, surprised by how stable your voice are, how void you are of emotions. And, that's the last thing you said before turning around to walk away.

You were about to go out the front door when a pair of hands stopped you on your way, "Wait, y/n... please, love let me explain" Heeseung desperately begged, as he look straight at you. His eyes filled with emotions but... you unfortunately, weren't. His hair was messy, there are marks everywhere on his body, and most of all his lips are swelling with a stain of red lipstick, a profound reminder of his deception.

And, your lack of emotions as you look at him made heeseung devastated. You sneered, harshly swatting his hold before your clenched fists made in contact with his face. Heeseung fell on the floor, shocked as he look up to you. You thought you were drained of emotion but you were completely wrong. You can't feel anything other than, "I am so fucking disgusted of you." ... disgust. And the way your eyes look at him empty, with no expectation whatsoever, as if he wasn't deserving of any emotions even anger from you made heeseung even more distraught.

You felt another presence walking up to you, but before she can even finish apologizing your hands automatically made in contact with her cheeks making her look at you in shock. "I hope both of you suffer far more greater than I felt." and I'll make sure of that. You mumbled before walking completely out of their lives.

heelluring, 2024

[woso-dreamzzz]

Call Up III

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first Senior match

"Frido," Magda says, jaw hanging open in shock," What the hell is that?"

"Cool, right?" Frido brags, pulling on her shirt to show off the back.

"They're not selling those right now," Magda says as she takes her seat," How did you get one?"

Frido grins.

On her back, is Harder-Eriksson, the name you've chosen to represent Sweden with.

"I got it off a site where you can customise jerseys."

"She got scammed too," Zećira says," Had to get a new credit card."

"Stop telling people that!"

Zećira just laughs as Pernille and Magda take their seats. "How is she feeling? Nervous?"

"Probably," Pernille says," You know how she is. It's her first game. She wants this to go perfectly."

"It will," Zećira replies. She sounds confident and Pernille has to wonder if she's psychic or something. The way she says it with such conviction is like there's no other option means she must be psychic. There's no other explanation.

The crowd cheers, stopping Pernille from pressing further and she gets to her feet to clap as the players filter out from the tunnel.

You're the second in line, right after your captain - a newly appointed woman who looks so much taller and older compared to you at just seventeen.

You look nervous, it's clear on your face. It's clear by the way you keep shifting your weight around and how you gnaw at your bottom lip. Your eyes dart around, purposely avoiding the box of supporters you know who are here to see you.

Magda can't believe what she's seeing, not really. For years, you've waddled around the house in her Sweden jersey. For years, you've worn Zećira's Sweden jersey to sleep.

But now, you're standing in front of a sold-out crowd in a Sweden jersey of your own (one day, you'll have the most jersey sales of a keeper in history). There are names on your back that people will be very familiar with (one day, those names will be synonymous with you alone, not Magda and Pernille). There is a small handful of people here to see you (one day, people will buy tickets just because your name is on the team sheet).

This is your first time playing for Sweden.

Just a friendly (one day, you'll win World Cups with Sweden).

One day, this match will be a blip in your life but right now it's the most important match of your career.

You're representing your country as you stand in the middle of you goal.

You've played against Spain's youth team countless times for Denmark. It's strange to see the Spain kit and no Natalia Guijarro running towards you with the ball.

Vicky Lopez is running at you this time, barely five minutes into the match. She's woven her way through your defensive line. She adjusts her positioning by just a fraction and winds her leg up.

She'll shoot for the top corner. You know this and you leap, falling forward onto your front.

The ball is in your hands and you roll it out towards your defenders.

"Yes!" Frido cheers, pumping her fist into the air," Yes! That's it!"

Magda wants to roll her eyes but she feels exactly the same way, though she keeps it much more contained.

The first half draws to a close with a spectacular goal from a Swedish midfielder who Magda knows recently signed for Gotham.

You jog off the field with your team, instantly being tucked under the arm of your captain as she teasingly ruffles your hair.

When you come out for the second half, you look infinitely more relaxed and comfortable. You look much more like you did when you played for Denmark.

You look secure and you definitely take a few more daring risks.

Stealing the ball right from the feet of a Spanish player looks so much like Magda that even the cameraman cuts to your Morsa cheer from the stands, waving a little flag with your face on it.

As soon as she realises Magda is on screen, your moster Frido barges her way into view as well with a sign that has some of your baby pictures on it.

It's embarrassing and so stupid but it makes you smile as you kick the ball down to your midfield who starts on the attack.

The smile that emerges doesn't fade even when the fulltime whistle is blown.

A clean sheet seems like the best way to start your international career with Sweden.

"Look at you," Your captain says, ruffling your hair," Clean sheet. What did I tell you, huh? Nothing to be worried about."

You try to squirm away but she holds you tighter. She holds you hostage as the rest of the team on and off the bench converge on you.

You know what they're going to do and you try to escape.

You manage to duck under arms but run straight into Frido.

You hadn't even realised she'd gotten onto the pitch.

"No," She teases, turning you around and shoving you right back at the team.

"Momma, Morsa!" You whine as Frido tries to walk you over," Make her stop."

"No chance," Morsa laughs," This is your debut. You get all the perks that comes with it."

You pout. "I wish I stayed with Denmark."

"Don't lie," Momma says.

"Zećira, please? Can't you stop them?"

Zećira laughs as well, arms crossed over her chest. "And miss out on my little prodigy experiencing this? Take it with dignity."

Frido pushes you right at the crowd of your teammates.

They don't let you get away this time.

Hands are on your limbs as you're lifted up and thrown into the air.

[stervrucht]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠 🪱

Thank you for the tag @just-my-latest-hyperfixation 🧡

Today I’m thinking about this ridiculous story of a friend of mine, who, after she thought she’d been ghosted, proceeded to hold a cremation by burning the guy’s picture, only to receive a text right after.

“Where are we going, Eddie?”

Dustin’s tone is starting to grate on his nerves and Eddie needs to take a deep breath to calm his voice before responding. 

“I told you, a small detour.”

“Through the woods? What about the guitar lessons?”

“Yes, through the woods," Eddie snaps. 

He doesn’t even have to look to his side to know Dustin is pouting. Despite that, the little guy still follows him, ducking underneath the brush as they make their way to Skull Rock. 

He didn’t tell Dustin—doesn’t think there’s an adequate way to explain that this was what he did whenever he was dealing with a serious bout of heartbreak. That—because Steve Harrington hadn’t been answering his phone and clearly dumped Eddie without the courage to say so to his face—Eddie now needed to initiate the Cremation Stage. 

Yeah, you heard that right.

It first happened three years ago, after Stacy Morgan landed on him during a game of spin-the-bottle and cried after kissing him. That one kinda stung. 

After a bit of dumb back and forth, he and Gareth decided to cut her picture from the yearbook and held a stupid little funeral—speeches and all. After they were done and said their goodbyes, they burned the picture. It made him feel better. So much so, that it became a dumb little habit.

One he hadn’t executed that often, really.

Which is why it sucks so much he is off to Skull Rock, the place he first kissed Steve Harrington against the expectations of everyone ever, to burn his stupid picture.

When they finally reach Skull Rock, Eddie digs through his pockets and pulls out his Zippo and Steve’s picture. Dustin leans over his shoulder, knees digging into the back of Eddie’s arm as he leans over to watch.

“Why do you have a picture of Steve?”

“Because.” Eddie strikes the Zippo, trying to make it catch flame, but the old thing is protesting.

“Because why?”

The stupid thing still won’t catch. Eddie strikes his thumb over the wheel with a little more aggression—pulls his lips into a thin line, frustration pulling at his gut. “Because I need to burn it.”

“Why?”

Eddie throws his hands. “Because I have to okay! Because—”

Because Steve’s finally realized Eddie was a mistake. And Eddie knew the day would come. He was just pushing his head in the sand like a fucking ostrich, hoping he could enjoy what little time Steve was willing to give him. He just hoped Steve would have had the guts to actually say so to his face.

He can’t tell Dustin any of that though. 

Finally, the Zippo produces flame and Eddie holds the corner of Steve’s yearbook picture near it. It takes a few seconds, but soon enough the picture engulfs into flames and Eddie has to drop it between the twigs and dried leaves. He allows it to burn for a few seconds until the leaves around it start to smolder. He quickly kills the flame with his shoes and once he removes his feet, only ash is left of what was once an image of Senior Steve.

Eddie pulls himself into a standing position and slips the Zippo back into his pocket.

“All done.”

“Dude, that was so weird.”

“No, it wasn’t. And don’t tell Steve about this.” 

Dustin raises an eyebrow at him but probably senses it’s best to not push it.

“Can we go play guitar now?”

“Yeah, man, whatever. Let’s go.”

A little while later, Eddie sits in Dustin’s bedroom, his guitar in his lap as he shows Dustin some chords to Metallica. The little dude learns fast, last week's chords already dexterously mastered. A little more and he’ll be playing his first full song. Now, just to get a feeling for it, he makes Dustin play the same five chords as base while Eddie plays the more complex parts of the song. 

He’s actually starting to get into it when the doorbell to the Henderson residence rings.

“Really, now?” Dustin lets out a frustrated sigh and puts his guitar down on his bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie hums and continues picking at the snares. Mumbles along to the song until he hears Dustin return to the room.

“Oh, hey Eddie.”

Eddie looks up. That didn’t sound like Dustin. That sounded like—

“Steve.” Eddie is staring at Steve standing in Dustin’s doorframe. Can’t do anything else than stare because an hour ago, he cremated Steve. 

And now he’s here.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Steve lets out a little laugh. And it’s not the ‘oh shit I ran into my ex’ kind. It’s the genuine kind. The fond kind.

Dustin pushes himself past Steve into his bedroom. “I told you, I’d give it back to you on Monday,” he complains.

Steve rolls his eyes, watching with amusement as Dustin digs through his closet.

“W—where have you been?” Eddie hardly dares to ask. He tries to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“Ugh, my parents man. They took me on some campus visits to fancy universities. Didn’t give me any warning either. It sucked balls.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not great. How have you been holding up with this asshat the past few days.” Steve looks back to where Dustin is now clearing the lower levels of his closet. 

“I heard that!” he calls back. 

“I…I’ve been doing just dandy.” Eddie shoots Steve a little smile, and yes, that’s definitely fondness in Steve’s face. God, he’s such an idiot.

A total overreaction. 

When Dustin rears his head from the closet, proudly holding a cassette tape, Eddie thinks he needs to make sure Dustin takes this little Skull Rock detour to the grave. 

---

No pressure tags for @sleepy-steve @spectrum-spectre @runninriot @wheneverfeasible @eddiethebrave

[darknight3904]

Through the Years

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴀ ɢʟɪᴍᴘꜱᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ (ɴᴏ ꜱᴇx) ɴᴀᴏʏᴀ ᴢᴇɴɪɴ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ɢʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ɪɴ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ. ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴢᴇɴɪɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ᴏᴠᴇʀ 5ᴋ (ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴋɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

December 7, 2005 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You know you're practically a senior citizen now."

Gojo's head whips around, insulted at the idea of being called old. Sure he's got white hair but he's just turned 16, not 61.

"You're only a year younger than me, y'know. You'll be 16 soon too." He grins

Gojo grins as you roll your eyes next to him.

"At least I don't have white hair already." You point out

"Whatever, at least I'm not two inches tall." Gojo laughs, resting an elbow on your head.

"I'm still growing!" You defend, angry at the idea of staying the same height forever. "Get your ugly arm off me!"

"I'll have you know my arm is gorgeous," Gojo says, blue eyes catching the sunlight as he easily matches your pace.

"Mmhmm." You roll your eyes

To keep it simple, Satoru Gojo got under your skin. Perhaps it was that annoying smile or maybe the fact that your clan notoriously hated his. All you knew was that he drove you insane and you wished he'd just disappear so he could never bother you again.

"Where is everyone? I thought we agreed to meet here at 4," Gojo whined next to you.

"Worried your boyfriend stood you up?" You tease. thinking of the dark-haired boy who was usually joined to Gojo's hip most days.

"Suguru would never do that to me." Gojo smiles, unwrapping a lollipop he had stuffed in his pocket.

"I dunno, what if he finally got sick of you, Gojo?" You say, knowing it was impossible.

A soft ding interrupts your conversation with the boy and Gojo fishes his phone out of his pocket.

"HA! Told you he'd never stand me up!"

Gojo's phone is obnoxiously close to your face as he prompts you to read his chat with Geto.

On our way. Nanami needed to be convinced.

Another ding sounds and a picture of your fellow first years pops up Haibara is dragging Nanami down the sidewalk by his arms.

"Idiots." You murmur

"I see that smile! You got a crush on Nanamin?" Gojo's voice fills your ears as his pointer finger pokes at your face

"Piss off, Gojo." You groan "I hope one of Geto's curses eat you."

April 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You totally just cheated!" You accuse the blonde across from you

"Have you considered that you're just terrible at Jenga?" Nanami asked

"Have you considered that you just moved the table during my turn so you'd win and not me!" You groan

"It's just Jenga, Zenin. We can just start over." Haibara points out

"Not with a cheater playing." You roll your eyes

Haibara smiles as he begins to pick up the fallen blocks from the floor. You had been on edge for a few days now and your temper was beginning to get a bit out of hand. He had asked Nanami what he thought was the matter and the two of them had come to the conclusion that it had to do with your visit with the head of the Zenin clan.

"That's enough for today. I'm going to take a nap." Nanami declares

"Ugh, what a party pooper." Haibara teases, elbowing you.

"In case you forgot, Zenin here did me the favor of hitting me hard enough that I nearly passed out today in training." Nanami reminds the two of you.

Ah right, that. You had gone a bit too hard today sparring with Nanami.

"Oh, I forgot about that," Haibara says

"Yes. You should let Zenin get some rest. Her technique is draining, she's said so herself.

Sure, Phantom wasn't exactly easy to pull off but you wanted to keep playing. You wanted to kick Nanami's ass in Jenga.

"Alright. Let's eat dinner together tonight though. I have these awesome cookies in my room you'll both like." Haibara declares before following Nanami out of your room.

Perhaps Nanami was correct, a nap did sound enjoyable right now. A quick nap and then maybe you'd cook something to share with the boys tonight. Perhaps a couple of rice balls or maybe some chicken.

No sooner had you gotten comfortable under your blankets that your door swung open and Gojo was running into your room, Geto close on his heels.

"Satoru, you should always knock on a girl's door before barging in." Geto scolds his friend for you.

"It's fine, Suguru. It's not like she's getting changed or anything." Gojo grins looking down at you who had remained buried under your covers.

"And what if I was?" You scowl from your blankets

"I would've screamed in horror and asked Suguru to exorcise you." Gojo says flashing that oddly charming smile of his.

You're sure he could get away with murder if he just flashed those pearly whites.

You ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you sit up.

"I was about to take a nap but I guess it can wait." You say

"A nap? What are you four?" Gojo teases

"Yeah probably." You agree

"Not everyone is as energetic as you are Satoru." Geto reminded the white haired boy

"Yeah, what Geto said. Not everyone is a walking ball of energy." You say

Geto had always been your favorite of Jujutsu High's strongest duo. He didn't call you short or try to steal your food. Or maybe it was his long hair that seemed to always look better than yours.

Plus then there was that time Gojo snuck into your room to try and shave your eyebrows off. Sometimes you swore the elders of the Gojo clan were sending the six eyes user after you on purpose.

"Whatever, loser." Gojo said trying to reach and mess up your hair.

"Would you stop that! I'm not a child!" You groan

"Then why're you the size of one?" Gojo laughs

Even Geto laughed at that one as you shove Gojo out of the way.

"Why are you two even here? Can't you go bother Shoko for once?" You ask

"Shoko said you've been in a bad mood the past few days." Geto started

"So we've come to cheer you up!" Gojo finished

You watched wide-eyed as Gojo dumped the bag he was holding onto your bed. Every possible sweet fell out accompanied by different DVDs.

"For the record, I told him it was too much candy but he didn't listen," Geto says as Gojo riffles through the movie choices.

One DVD case catches your eye as Gojo argues with Geto about his sugar choices.

"Are you a Rachel McAdams fan, Gojo?" You ask as you hold up Mean Girls.

"Duh." Gojo grins before swiping the case from your hand to pop it into the player you had

"Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Regina George."

"Y'know you're kinda like Regina, Satoru," Geto says observing the movie.

"Am not." Gojo rolls his eyes sipping at his soda

"Sure you are." Geto smiles

"Yeah right." Gojo scoffs "Whaddaya think, Zenin?"

Gojo looked at you for an answer but was met with you asleep next to him, head resting on one of those massive stuffed animals you kept. You're drooling a bit and he can't help but think that you're a bit cute like this.

He reaches to shake you awake, determined to get your opinion on whether or not he is like a spoiled teenage girl.

"Let her rest. I heard that her and the other first years went pretty hard today training. Nanami took a big blow to the head from her using her technique." Geto stopped his best friend

"I wish she'd show me her technique. She explained it to me once but I still don't get it." Gojo huffed

"I'm pretty sure Phantom just multiplies her and then she closes the distance with her real body. I watched her use it on Haibara a few months ago." Geto explains

"Whatever...I still want to see it with my own eyes." Gojo declared

The TV hummed softly as they sat in silence while Regina George got hit by a bus after rushing out of her school.

"Why do you think she's been in such a bad mood recently? I heard her yelling about Jenga earlier." Geto asked

"I'm not entirely sure but I think it probably has to do with Nabito Zenin." Gojo said "His archaic way of doing things is probably upsetting her. I heard that she had some meeting with him recently."

Geto lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment.

"Nabito is probably trying to stick her in some arranged marriage. I wouldn't be surprised if it was with his own brat, Naoya." Gojo elaborates

"You know a lot about the Zenin Clan, Satoru," Geto points out

"Well the last Six Eyes and Infinity user was killed by one of them, so I think I'm entitled to a little knowledge. " Gojo defends

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should try to be a little nicer to her though, especially if you know what might be going on with her clan." Geto suggests

"I'm perfectly nice." He defends

"Yesterday you said you were going to shave her head in her sleep because she ate one of your french fries."

"I was joking!"

November 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 16)

"Happy Birthday, Zenin!" Haibara called "Have fun with your family!"

You smiled and waved at Haibara and Nanami as you got into the car that had been sent to pick you up.

Fun. This trip would be anything but fun.

Snow was falling as you entered your childhood home. The soft scent of lavender filled your nose and calmed your nerves.

"You're back! I'm still cooking!" Your mother exclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen

"Yeah, there wasn't much traffic." You reply, trying to release yourself from her bone-crushing hug. Seriously with her strength, she'd probably be able to exercise curses.

"Go wash up. Your father will be back soon and he is bringing Nabito-san and his son." Your mother says

Dinner is quiet. Or rather you're quiet next to your mother while Nabito and your father discuss something about cursed techniques and something about Toji Zenin's kid.

"Your face is plain." the boy across from you suddenly says

Your mother momentarily freezes but quickly regains her composure.

"Yes well, sometimes plain features are best. Just think you wouldn't want every man looking at your wife." Your mother says

Did she just agree to you being plain featured? You looked like her for crying out loud!

"Whatever," Naoya mumbled before shoving more rice into his mouth.

What a pig.

You're not entirely sure why it's happening. Perhaps it was the dinner with Naoya that had your brain going crazy. But ever since you got back from your parents' home you can't stop staring at Gojo. Was it because he represented everything your clan hated? Or maybe it was because he was insufferably annoying? Whatever the reason, you swore he was drawing you in.

"You should stop staring. You might put a hole in his head." Shoko says

"I wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me." Shoko smiles knowingly

You definitely weren't staring at Satoru Gojo. Nope. Not in a million years. And you definitely didn't get butterflies whenever he looked your way. That would be ridiculously, ridiculous.

August 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

"I don't get why I wasn't assigned with you two. I mean we're always going on missions together." You grumble

"They probably need you to help Gojo train more. Your technique is perfect for him to strengthen his Six Eyes, Zenin." Haibara points out

"It's just a grade two. We'll be back before sundown." Nanami assures

"Yeah, then we can watch a movie and get fat off popcorn," Haibara says

"I'm choosing tonight. I don't want to watch another Pirates of the Caribbean movie." Nanami declares

"But Jack Sparrow is so sexy!" You groan

Haibara laughs in agreement with you.

"See you later, Zenin! I can't wait to bully Nanami into watching Pirates of the Caribbean with you tonight!" Haibara declares

See you later, Zenin!

See you later.

You should've gotten into that damn car with them. Your technique was better than both of theirs. Maybe if you had...just maybe you wouldn't be staring down at half of your friend.

Geto was next to you, looking down at his body, He was silent, long hair blocking his face from you.

Nanami sat behind you, a damp cloth over his eyes.

"You need to rest for now, Nanami," Geto suggests, his soft voice filling the silence.

"Damn it. I should've gone with you two." You say, your voice dripping in regret.

"You could've gotten killed too, Zenin." Nanami sighs, his voice is tight like he's holding back tears.

A soft summer breeze blows through your hair as you sit on a bench. You had left Geto and Nanami with Haibara, not wanting to see the bloody sheet he was under anymore.

"Hey."

You glance up from where you had been picking at your nails, willing yourself to hold it together.

Gojo stood over you, hand stretched out with a piece of candy in it.

"I heard what happened." He said sitting next to you as you unwrapped the candy and popped it in your mouth.

"You wanna talk about it?" Gojo asked

"Not really." You sighed

"You don't seem too sad," Gojo said quietly

"I think I will be...later on. Once I'm alone." You say

"Yeah, me too." He replied.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you focused on the taste of the candy in your mouth.

"I gave you the green apple. It's my least favorite." Gojo said

"Thanks." You reply

September 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

In accordance with Jujutsu regulations, Geto Suguru is sentenced to death.

For once in his life Gojo Satoru is not buzzing around you like an excited puppy. You can see him, sitting alone on the steps of Jujutsu High.

The deaths of 112 people including his own parents rests on Geto's hands. You couldn't believe it when Nanami read the report to you. But now, seeing Gojo alone confirmed it.

You don't know what you're going to say to Gojo as you approach him. What do you say to the person who's just lost their best friend to a life of being a curse user?

"I know you're lurking back there," Gojo says

Damn it.

"I wanted to give you this." You mumble tossing him a lollipop before sitting next to him, probably a bit too close for someone who swore you weren't interested in him.

Gojo softly smiles and accepts the candy.

"Did he say what he wants to do next?" You ask

"He wants to exterminate all non-sorcerers from the world," Gojo says

An unattainable goal.

"That's impossible." You say

"That won't stop him." Gojo points out

A soft weight taps you and the sweet scent of Satoru Gojo's shampoo fills your nose as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll see him again. Even if it's not for a long time, you'll talk to each other again." You assure him.

"Yeah, I hope so," Gojo admits

His voice is a whisper in the breeze, a prayer for the future.

Christmas 2009 (Gojo: 20 You: 19)

"You have to stay quiet, Gojo!" You groan looking at your friend next to you

"This costume is so itchy though! The beard is gonna make my skin all red!" He whines

"Suck it up." You command

Gojo lets out another groan but helps you finish arranging the copious amounts of gifts he had ended up buying for Megumi and Tsumiki.

"Alright, it's perfect. Now go stand next to the tree."

Gojo listens to you and lets out a huff of embarrassment when you snap his picture.

"That better be for your eyes only." He says

"Oh definitely don't worry about it." You brush him off before quickly sending the picture off to Nanami and Shoko. They're sure to get a kick out of it.

"Remind me why I asked you to help with these brats again," Gojo says as he notices you sending his picture.

"Cuz' these brats would be dead if you were the only one watching them, Gojo." You say

"I'm a great caregiver." He says

"You wanted to get Megumi a pink tutu for Christmas." You say

"He would've looked great!" Gojo defends

"He would've set his Demon Dogs after you." You say

"Would not."

"Would too."

"Would not!'

"Would too!"

"What's going on?"

You and Gojo stop your bickering to see sleepy-eyed children hovering on the steps, dark hair out of place and a frizzy mess atop their little heads.

"Santa and I were just arguing about what cookie is best!" You grin

"That's not Santa. That's Gojo in that costume you ordered off Amazon last week." Megumi points out. "I saw the order details on your laptop."

Who the hell does this kid think he is?

"What? No! This is the real Santa from the North Pole!" You scramble

"Megumi, just go with it!" Tsumiki whispers to her little brother, "They obviously don't know Santa's not real!"

Is it a crime to toss a child out a window?

"The jig is up!" Gojo declares beside you as he rips off his fake beard. "Now let's get to the real fun stuff! Mistletoe!"

Gojo grabs a sprig of mistletoe from between the couch cushions. Curse him and his hiding spots.

"Pucker up, hot stuff!" Gojo says as he reaches for you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close.

"Gross." You say pushing his face away from you, you hope he can't see how red you are.

Why the hell was he like this? The past few months Gojo had been all over you. Be it flirty gestures or just plain Gojo weirdness, he was consuming every bit of you and you weren't sure if it was a bad thing.

"You're blushing," Megumi says

"Aha! I knew you wanted a kiss from me!" Gojo exclaims chasing after you as you try to escape up the stairs.

Seriously, is it a crime to toss a kid out a window?

March 2011 (Gojo: 21 You: 20)

The harsh slam of the front door wakes Gojo from the peace that had taken over the house. Megumi and Tsumiki had gone to bed and he was kicked back on the sofa, face mask on and Harry Potter was running on TV.

"I'm going to seriously kill that asshole one day." You groan as you rummage through the fridge

"I take it the meeting with Naoya didn't go well," Gojo said

"Didn't go well is the understatement of the millennium." You groan sitting down next to him a slice of cold pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

"Tell me about it," Gojo says pulling your feet into his lap.

He listens to you vent about your "fiance" and how annoying he is. Naoya wants you to cut your hair a certain way and to stop wearing the color red. Apparently, you also need to start wearing lipstick now according to the man as well.

"Honestly I hope he gets hit by a bus tomorrow." You groan "And what the hell is wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. I think it suits you nicely." Gojo smiles, knowing it's true. You're as pretty as a picture even when you're mad at the world.

"Thanks." You sigh "That wasn't the worst of it though"

"Oh? What else did the scumbag say this time?" Gojo asked, genuinely curious

"Well beyond my appearance, he asked if I was still a virgin today." You say

"Are you?"

"Ow!" Gojo yelps as he rubs his arm where you punched him

"Yeah, I am you idiot!" You seethe, placing your wine and half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, "He's only asking cuz' he found out that I'm spending time around you and I guess he's worried about impurity."

"We're just friends," Gojo says "Besides who cares if a girl's slept with someone before? I know I wouldn't."

His words feel like glue in his mouth. Can you tell he wants to be more than friends?

"I know that, and you know that. But he must think I'm whoring myself out to you in exchange for a place to live." You say sadly

Gojo can sense that Naoya's words are under your skin and bouncing around in that pretty head of yours. A head that should only be filled with the happiest of thoughts, preferably ones with him in it.

"Hey, forget about him. It's none of his business what company you keep and what you look like." He assures, reaching his arms out to pull you into his side.

"He's technically my fiance y'know." You sigh as you let him reposition your body so your head rests on his chest. "I'm supposed to want to please him since he's a man."

There's that stupid Zenin clan mindset, that Gojo can't stand.

"Screw that! Pleasing someone just cuz they're a guy is so 200 years ago." He says

"Tell me about it." You groan

"I could just send a hollow purple his way if you want." Gojo suggests, fully serious "Just a small one. It would be the perfect way to get rid of him."

"And what? Start a full-on war between two ancient clans over me?" You laugh

"Of course," Gojo confirms, pulling you closer to him

To him, you're worth starting a thousand wars if it means you'll finally let him be by your side all the time.

"By the way, is that a charcoal mask?" You ask

"Yup. Got it from the mall today, gotta stay hot for the single ladies out there."

"Gojo?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a really weird guy."

December 2011 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

"We have to stay quiet, 'gumi." The girl reminds her little brother

"What's the point? How do we even know they'll like this?" He asked

"Who wouldn't enjoy breakfast in bed?" Tsumiki asked

She had a point.

"Yeah, but Gojo and Zenin don't even sleep in the same room. So are we surprising them separately?" Megumi asked as he poured orange juice into cups, he didn't think he had the balance to make it up the stairs with a tray of food.

"Nope! I checked Gojo's room before I woke you up. They're in his room together. I think she had a nightmare or something last night." Tsumiki says, "And we're not supposed to call her Zenin, remember? She said we could just use her first name."

"Oh, right," Megumi says

The couple? No, friends? Whatever they were, the two individuals that had taken him and his sister in were odd. Megumi was sure that Gojo was insane or maybe missing a piece of his brain. Just the other day Gojo had dangled him out the window for asking why he owned pink underwear as a 22-year-old. It was a genuine question on Megumi's part. As for you, you were definitely his favorite. You didn't try to dangle him out windows or mess up his hair, and most importantly you didn't constantly ask about his cursed technique.

Gojo was definitely the more annoying out of the two of you. How you put up with him was a mystery to Megumi. Tsumiki had once said that there was a "budding romance" between Gojo and You. Megumi thought she was reading too many of those romance books you bought her. Of course, he understood why she was saying that. You and Gojo were clearly close to each other, not to mention sometimes you even slept in each other's bedrooms. And then of course there's the many times when you're cooking and Gojo would wrap his arms around you from behind.

Alright, fine maybe Tsumiki was right about the romance.

"Alright, they're done. What do you think?" Tsumiki asks as she places two plates of something on the tray that sits in front of him.

"What are they?" He asks

"They're pancakes." Tsumiki blinked at Megumi as though it was obvious

"Right, of course." Megumi didn't want to make her angry, after all the last time they got in a fight Tsumiki pulled his hair so hard he swore he was partly bald in that spot for months.

"Ok lets go. You get the silverware and the drinks." She says

Gojo's bedroom is so dark, that Megumi nearly trips on his own feet as he blindly follows his sister.

Tsumiki carefully set the tray of food on the desk that was covered in various papers and candy wrappers. Why was Gojo such a slob? Tsumiki pulls the curtains open so the morning light can invade the space.

Megumi carefully observes the pair in bed. Gojo's arm is wrapped securely around you and your head rests on his chest. Megumi finds himself wondering if his father and mother were ever like this. Not that it matters since he can't even remember either of them.

"Surprise!" Tsumiki shouts and Gojo's eyes fly open

"Whaaats going on?" You ask groggily

"We made breakfast!" Tsumiki smiles placing the tray in front of the two adults.

"I have orange juice." Megumi mumbles

"Oh wow!" You smile, rubbing at your eyes, and immediately sit up.

"What is it?" Gojo asks, white hair messier than usual.

Megumi knew it wasn't obvious that they were pancakes.

"Pancakes of course!" You smile at them and Megumi doesn't miss how you pinch Gojo and whisper "be nice" to the white-haired man.

"They have blueberries in them," Megumi says

Gojo's face falls at the idea of a breakfast lacking sugar.

"And chocolate chips." Tsumiki chimes in

Gojo's face is all smiles again as he cuts into the food.

"How is it?" His sister eagerly asks

"It's wonderful. Delicious. Thank you, Tsumiki and Megumi." You compliment

A wide smile breaks out across his sister's face and she grabs Megumi by the arm.

"Alright, we'll let you two eat in peace then." She smiles, practically skipping out of the room.

Just before Megumi closes the door, hushed voices reach his ears.

"Can I spit this out now? I don't think it's edible." Gojo asks

"I think mine has some eggshell in it." You reply

Hushed laughter follows and Megumi smiles to himself. Sure, the two of you were crazy but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

February 2012 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

Gojo was sure he was actually insane. What the hell was he thinking buying this for you?

The ruby red box felt like a lead weight in his pocket as he approached you while you were slicing vegetables for tonight's supper. Maybe he shouldn't do this while you had a knife in your hand. What if you stabbed him? Well, his infinity would catch it, but still.

"Can I uh...talk to you?" He asked, well...no going back now

"Yeah, what's up?" You ask

"Can I talk to you without the knife in your hand?" He asks

"Satoru Gojo what did you do?" You accuse, immediately focusing on you

"Nothing! Why do you assume I did something?!" He cries

"Because the last time you started a sentence with "without the knife in your hand" You had encouraged Megumi to fight his school bully and then you got a call that Megumi punched a girl two years younger than him." You say

Oh right. He forgot about that.

"Alright well, no children were harmed this time. Now put the knife down." He said

You listen and he takes a big breath, he's going to need all the oxygen for this one.

"Look it might be stupid and I know Valentine's Day was last week but I got you something and I wanted to give it to you. I've actually had it since December but I keep chickening out" He explained fishing the box out of his pocket

"If that's an engagement ring I'll get the knife back out." You say eying him suspiciously.

"What? No! That would be crazy." Gojo laughs, he can feel his face burning. Fuck...he must be bright red.

"Alright good." You say taking the box

Gojo fidgets with the string that's sticking out of the sleeve of his shirt as you look at what he's done.

"Do you uh like it?" He asked

"I do. Why'd you get it for me?" You ask

Wasn't it obvious? He'd buy the whole universe for you if he could.

"You really don't have any idea?" He asks

"No...I don't." You say

Your face is relaxed, you're definitely not lying to him. You seriously have no idea that he's totally obsessed with you!

"Are you gonna say it? I still have to cut some carrots up." You sigh

Gojo lets out a noise that's so insane sounding he swears he got possessed by some evil spirit.

"I got it cuz' I thought it'd look great on you!" The words are coming out of his mouth like vomit, " And I really uh...uhm...I like you."

The last bit is so quiet he's sure you didn't hear it.

"Wow did I just get a shoujo romance confession from the Satoru Gojo himself?" You tease as his gaze remains fixed on his feet.

"Whatever. If you don't want it I'll take it back tomorrow." He grumbled

Silence falls over the two of you like a blanket and Gojo wishes he could bury himself alive. Of course, she's making fun of you! She's engaged! She's been engaged since she was 15! One necklace won't change that! Sure, her fiance was a total buttwipe but still...

"Satoru,"

His first name coming from your lips for the first time ever has his gaze snapping back up. He wishes that you'd say his name like that forever.

"I'm only teasing you. I like you too. I have for a while." You admit

"How long is a while?" He prods, suddenly filled with confidence

"None of your business, mister. Are you going to help me put this on?" You gesture to the box

Gojo is as gentle as he can be as he clips the necklace behind your neck.

"How do I look?" You ask

"Perfect." He smiles and pulls you towards him.

"I smell, Satoru. I haven't gotten to shower yet and I exrocsied a curse at a school earlier." You softly say

"Mmm, you smell good to me." Gojo says "You're always absolutely perfect. And now you're all mine."

An elated giggle leaves his body as he finally gets to kiss you for the first time. If only his 17-year-old self could see him now.

"That's disgusting."

You jump away from him and he wishes you hadn't.

"Megumi, how was school?" You ask and Gojo doesn't miss the way you're obviously flustered.

"It was good. Until I came home to see that." He says

"Well get used to it cuz' you'll be seeing a lot more of it." Gojo grins as he pulls you towards him and tosses an arm around your shoulders.

"She's all mine now, little man. You're not allowed to give her a Valentine's Day card ever again!"

"Satoru, stop that!"

"So are you two finally dating?" Tsumiki asked hopefully

"Course' we are. You don't come home to two people sucking face and expect them not to be officially a couple."

Gojo deserves the punch to the stomach you give him before resuming your vegetable cutting.

Next Part

Series Masterlist / My Masterlist

[st4rtar0t]

Random things about your future lover

Pick a picture from below

DM to purchase a reading! All the prices are listed on my paid reading post.

Picture 1

May be an earth sign. Virgo, Taurus or Capricorn.

They have lots of hobbies and things they like to do in their free time.

They hate it when people waste their time.

Very straightforward and cutthroat.

May be cheated on or may have severe trust issues.

They always working on something.

They are gonna come into your life really soon and unexpectedly.

They will really like the way you dress yourself.

They may even be your potential life partner or definately a long term relationship.

They have really beautiful hands and may be an artist.

Initials A,D,G,Z,U,C,B,W

They are really protective of the people they love.

Picture 2

Definitely a gentleman. Very traditional.

They love taking care of themselves.

May be a leo or have sun in their 1st or 5th house.

You may meet them around the holiday season.

They are really patient and think before they speak.

Very poetic with their words. Love language may be giving handwritten letters.

Very mysterious aura, don't talk much to people or never share anything about themselves.

You may meet them after a breakup or heartbreak.

You both work in the same career field.

May be your boss or your senior.

Very passionate and dedicated about what they do.

They love talking but not on texts.

Picture 3

They may be really popular among the opposite gender. They seem to have a lot of admires.

A perfectionist and a workaholic. Loves their job with their whole heart.

You may meet them through a trip or while travelling.

Their love language is gift giving and acts of service.

They are really practical but may get delulu sometimes.

They are emotionally mature and do not hide their feelings.

It's giving fire sign energy. May require more sleep than an average person.

Says what's on their mind. May be a bit rude sometimes.

May meet them in 2 months.

May be Aquarius, Scorpio or cancer rising .

You literally manifested them. They are a dream come true for you.

May have light colored hair.

Guys I know I have been inactive for a long time but I am just going through a lot this month. Wish me luck and expect more posts in the future.

[thewidowsledger]

The Call

Chapter 1: First Day | 3.9k

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You were supposed to take her out—the infamous Black Widow—Natasha Romanoff. The S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping an eye on her for a while now and for some reason, another high-ranking agent as you was sent to get the mission done. But then, he made a different call leading the mission to be here in front of you, soon to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Pairings: Ex-Russian Agent Natasha Romanoff x Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, bad writing, slow burn, angst angst angst, violence, triggering Natasha’s trauma if you squint because that's what we do for a living

Author's Note: You are Fury’s adoptive daughter in this series and I wrote Yelena as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, not a Black Widow. So basically Natasha and Yelena doesn't know each other. I tried doing my best researching about Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. so please spare me with my mistakes.

I dedicate this chapter to @a-spes and @notlhecxzsa because they’ve been nothing but very supportive of this series🤲💗

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova”

“Natasha Romanoff”

“Red Room”

“Black Widow”

Your eyes hurt as you look at the screen fiercely, having to put your eyeglasses on your head. Your eyes run over every word and detail gathered by S.H.I.E.L.D. on the assassin's life. You’ve read and reviewed all of this, you’ve studied her for almost half of your life.

She was supposed to be taken out by Clint, a high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent like you. The difference between you and Clint is that Clint is a level 6 agent and you are a level 8 agent who has more access to information and works as a mission controller. While Clint’s level specialized in espionage and combat.

You and Clint have earned your positions through years of service and exceptional performance. In S.H.I.E.L.D., agent rankings ranged from entry-level recruits to senior positions such as Director and Deputy Directors. In the field, agents were typically divided into levels based on their experience and mission success rates, with higher levels earning more autonomy and responsibility. You and Clint were both considered to be in the upper echelons of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s field agent ranks, respected and entrusted with important missions.

You studied Clint's mission report from Budapest as well.

“I made a different call.” You read to yourself.

You remembered that day, your father, the director, Nick Fury, accepted that call without hesitation. However, you found yourself unable to accept it as easily as he did. You knew that Natasha's past made her dangerous and unpredictable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that the assassin had her own agenda. Your concerns were real, but you knew that your father, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. trusted Clint's judgment, and you had no choice but to accept that call.

You turned your attention to the screen of your computer scrolling through the series of surveillance photos, eventually pausing at one particular image that caught your eye. It was a picture of Natasha, her face and arms bloodied. She’s wearing a tight-fitting black tank top that emphasized her toned abs. You’re fixated on the image, your eyes tracing the curve of Natasha's biceps.

“Y/N?”

You jumped in surprise and quickly closed the tabs on your computer. You composed yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

“Deputy Hill.” You nodded, Maria intently eyed you before the both of you bursted into laughter. “What's up, Ri? I missed you.” You immediately circled over your desk and gave her a big hug.

“Fine and you? How's the vacation?” She asked, squeezing your left hand. “Great, so, so great that I wanna sneak out and ditch missions just to go back to Fiji and lay there while I keep my tan up by the beach.”

“That sounds really great, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, it is.” You replied with a smirk as you walked back towards your desk. “And then I’ll get a call that Hawkie made a “different call” with his last mission.” You raised a hand, gesturing with your two fingers to make an apostrophe sign in the air as you said, “different call.”

Maria just chuckled, her gaze landing on the stack of paper you're fixing on your desk. “I know what those are.” She said, before eyeing you softly.

Of course she does, everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. knows what it is, who’s behind all those thick papers.

It's all about the shot Clint couldn't take, Natasha Romanoff A.K.A. the Black Widow.

You let out a deep sigh as you looked up at Maria, gathering the papers on your desk. "She's coming today, right?"

“Actually Y/N, I’m here to say that they're all in the meeting room now. Clint, your dad and her.”

“Oh.”

⧗

There was a charged energy in the air, the assassin's senses something intimidating coming in, she braced herself and leaned her back straight at her seat—and then here you are, entering the meeting room.

Natasha's eyes widened as she took in your appearance, drinking in every detail. Her gaze slid down on your body, taking in the way your skirt and heels accentuated your legs and the way your cleavage peeked on your top…

“That's my daughter, finally.” Fury said, smiling at you, you peck a kiss on his cheek before standing beside him.

As soon as Fury spoke the word “daughter” Natasha cursed under her breath, realizing that she had just been checking out the director’s daughter. She felt a wave of shame wash over her, embarrassed at her own behavior.

“Agent Y/N Fury.” Fury introduced. You scanned the room taking in the presence of Clint and the infamous Black Widow. You smiled politely at Clint, acknowledging his comeback.

“Barton.”

“Y/N.”

Your gaze swept over the assassin, your eyes meeting for a brief moment. She quickly averted her gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the direct eye contact. You couldn't help but smirk slightly at her reaction, finding it amusing.

You took your seat in front of Clint, eyeing her once again before the meeting began.

You glance at the assassin every now and then and the assassin is very aware of it, you made it obvious that you're staring at her even Clint knows but he did nothing about it.

If looks could kill this assassin would be dead on the spot. Your gaze fixed on every detail that you’ve seen on the tabs of your computer, your eyes finally landed on her arms—they're much bigger in person you thought but you quickly erased the stupid thought when the main topic of discussion was finally brought up.

“Natasha Romanoff will now be a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.” The deputy director, Maria announced.

There was a moment of silence as everyone digested this information. You know this is going to happen, you saw it coming. You huffed trying to keep your expression neutral but it didn't go unnoticed by the people in the room.

Fury leaned forward in his seat, his gaze focused on you as if he's expecting you to show your disagreement to this decision. “If you have any issues with the situation, just report it,” he said firmly.

You tried to downplay your concerns and annoyance, giving a small shrug in response, but you couldn't hide the tension that had settled in the room. You know damn well that the entire team, including the assassin herself, could sense your disagreement and disapproval but of course you didn't give them the satisfaction of having their thoughts right about you.

Their eyes shifted between you and Fury, watching carefully for your reaction. But the assassin kept her head down.

“If that would be all, I'd like to excuse myself.” You quickly stood from your chair without giving anyone a chance to respond and you made your way towards the door.

Just as you reached for the handle, Fury's voice called out to you, stopping you in your tracks. You shut your eyes before turning to face him, your expression emotionless.

“Sir?” You said, acknowledging his authority, he’s still the director after all…and not to mention that he’s also your father who you always had dinner with every weekend.

“Romanoff will be under your wing.” Before you could even react, he spoke again. “You will be responsible for overseeing her in missions, training, and other SHIELD operations, including both field work and theoretical training. You need to evaluate her progress and provide feedback and guidance as necessary.”

Your eyes scanned the room and landed on Natasha, who sat quietly in her seat.

“Doesn't seem like I have a choice, do I?”

Clint pinched his nose to your reply, he already expected this attitude from you. You saw him squeeze the hand of the assassin.

But the assassin once again tried to avoid your gaze, you couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction at her reaction once again. It was clear that your presence and authority intimidated her, which was a good start.

As you turned to leave, you called out to the assassin, “Tomorrow 0800, in my office.”

Before Natasha could even reply, you’re already gone.

“Yes ma’am.” She muttered in the air.

⧗

You were surprised to see the redhead standing in front of your office. You walked past her as if you saw nothing and immediately placed your bag to your desk, you sat back down and saw her figure still standing outside the glassed windows of your office.

You let out an annoyed sigh and stared at the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes. It was still ten minutes before your scheduled meeting time.

You fidgeted with your foot, tapping it against the floor. The seconds seemed to tick by slower than normal, and you just wanted the clock to reach exactly 8 o'clock so you could call the assassin.

“Come in.”

Before she could even close the door you fired off a series of questions.

“Did you report to Deputy Director Hill? Before you come waiting outside my office for what seems like hours?” You asked, cocking your brow at her.

She answered quickly, “Yes.”

You continued, "Did you complete your assigned training?"

Again, her reply was prompt, “Yes.”

Impressed but not fully satisfied, you pressed on, “Weapons training?”

“I thin—”

As soon as Natasha began to respond again, you cut her off. “What? You think you don't need them?” You demanded, your voice sharp as if you know what she's going to say.

Natasha's head jerked back, clearly not expecting the abrupt interruption. She looked up at you, her eyes wide, and replied softly, “No, ma'am.”

You tilt your head, “Then go, meet me after.”

“Deputy Hill told me that I might need some guidance in the traini—”

“Guidance?” You shot back with your shocked mocking tone not letting her finish once again, “With a trained assassin like you? You need my guidance?” You chuckled in irritation and disbelief as you slowly shook your head side by side.

“You’ve got so much red on your ledger, I don't think you need my guidance.”

The assassin flinched at your words, it clearly touched a nerve and you knew you had hit that sensitive spot. In that way you wanted her to know that you weren't going to go easy on her.

But only if you knew how much your words affected her.

⧗

“Clint, what's up? Are you supposed to be here? I thought you're still on leave?” Clint brought Natasha in a big hug that she really needs right now after your shoot-to-kill words.

“Nah, not if my best friend is at her first day of work,” he replied, patting her shoulder reassuringly. They continued walking together and Clint asked, “How was it?”

Natasha shrugged nonchalantly, “It's okay.”

“How's Y/N?” Clint noticed the change in Natasha's mood when he asked about you. She seemed hesitant to talk about you, her answer short and clipped. “She uhm…she's okay.” She spoke again, changing the subject quickly. “I’m heading to the training room right now.”

He picked up on her avoidance and decided to play along, though concern still flickered in his eyes.

“I can see through you, Nat,” he started, “Y/N can be tough, she's not the Furious daughter for nothing.”

Natasha looked at him questioningly, “Furious daughter?”

Clint chuckled, finding the ironic nickname funny. “You know, because she's Fury’s daughter, fe-yu-ri…fe-yu-ri-us—because she can be furious at times,” he explained, adding a little pun to it.

He then grew serious again, looking at the assassin intently. “But seriously, Y/N is not someone to mess around with. She’s tough as nails and can be pretty intense when she wants to be.”

Natasha muttered under her breath, “Yeah, I knew that right after she walked in the meeting room yesterday.”

Clint just chuckled and patted her shoulder reassuringly. He knew that you had made quite an impression on her, and he found it somewhat amusing.

“Seems like she left a lasting impression, huh?” he teased.

Natasha's head dropped slightly as she remembered the words you had shot at her a while ago.

“Guidance?”

“With a trained assassin like you? You need my guidance?”

“You’ve got so much red on your ledger, I don't think you need my guidance.”

“Oh yeah she did.”

⧗

You summoned all the agents under your wing. There are 5, Natasha included.

Natasha intently observed each person in the meeting room, her gaze flitting from one face to another as if trying to glean something from their expressions.

Typical guy with blue eyes and blonde hair, with a muscular body and cocky attitude, but Natasha thought that his muscles were just gym muscles. This one girl who introduced herself to Natasha, her name is Madisynn, though chatty, could sometimes talk a mile a minute. And another girl that had this uncanny ability of appearing lost in her work, her face almost buried in piles of papers and documents as soon as she entered the meeting room.

Natasha, the newbie, of course, had observed each of them closely during the small or almost no interaction at all, making mental notes about their personalities but suddenly a girl with blonde hair entered the room with a big smile and boisterous greeting.

“Hiiiiiiii!” She immediately made her way over to you and enveloped you in a tight hug.

“Hi, Lena.”

Natasha watched this interaction intently. She observed the way your stern demeanor seemed to soften slightly as the small woman embraced you. It piqued her curiosity as she realized it was the first time she had seen you even crack a smile.

Just as Yelena was settling into conversation mode with you, she suddenly turned her attention to the team and started greeting them individually, her cheerful persona on full display. When she got to Natasha, Yelena's eyes widened in recognition.

“You're...the Black Widow?” she exclaimed, excitement evident in her voice. “I’m Yelena! I'm such a huge fan!"

Natasha looked slightly uncomfortable, wincing at the sudden attention. She saw how you glared at Yelena but of course Yelena didn't see. But before she could even respond, Yelena quickly turned her focus back to you.

Yelena bounded over to stand in front of you, her face lit up with her signature grin. You couldn't help but chuckle lightly at her infectious energy.

"Seriously, what are you doing here, Lena?" you asked, your voice laced with both fondness and a little bit of annoyance.

With a shrug, Yelena replied, "I'm a part of your unit, right?"

You chuckled again and clarified, crossing your arms together. "You're in the process of becoming a senior agent."

Not missing a beat, Yelena dropped her smile and adopted a playful pout, giving you a puppy-dog look. "But I still need your guidance. I'm still your baby, right?" she whined, her bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated manner.

You looked at her now with a serious expression, your gaze narrowing as you asked your question.

"Did Maria ask you to be here?"

The agent shook her head innocently.

You pressed on, your voice was soothing as if you're trying to talk to a kid to have them say the truth. "Did the director ask you to come?"

Again, Yelena replied with a simple, "Nope." Her answer was so childlike popping the p and carefree that it left you no closer to understanding why she was here.

You hummed as you guessed again, “Clint?”

Now she did not reply or give any hint of response, she just fidgeted with her hands.

You sighed, now serious and knowing you were finally getting to the bottom of it. "Did Kate...?"

Yelena's response, "Yeah," was delivered like a kid caught red-handed. Seeing the change in your expression, the agent looked up at you, her eyes widening with realization as she saw just how seriously you were taking this.

"Okay, okay!" she pouted, her mood shifting quickly to defensiveness.

"Well, I guess Clint told her," she muttered, still trying to justify her actions.

You couldn't help but give her a stern look, silently waiting for her to get to the point.

Realizing she was in trouble, Yelena quickly continued, “And you know how Kate is! She told me you're being a 'meanie' to the newbie.”

Yelena's explanation had left you a little taken aback, but you're actually satisfied at the thought of being perceived as mean…to the newbie.

That call hadn't been an easy one for you, so might as well don't go easy on her.

“I'm not being mean,” you denied calmly, immediately defending yourself as you glance towards the direction of the newbie.

Yelena quickly countered, her pout and the respectful tone in her voice contrasting with her defiance, “You did not make me come at 0800 at your office and expect everything done by that time.”

You chuckled at her audacity, a little amused. Just by making her come to your office early everyday made you mean already? How is she supposed to handle all the things you’re about to unleash to her?

“And they thought sending you here will stop me from being mean to the newbie?” you asked, raising your brows at her.

“Nope, they sent me so the newbie will have a frennie.”

“Frennie, huh?” You replied with a huff. “Great, two pains in my ass.”

Yelena shot back, offended at your words, “See? You're being a meanie!”

Hearing her fiery and child-like reply, you couldn't help but chuckle softly, unable to maintain being serious in the face of her petulant pout and defiant attitude.

With a smirk, you gestured ever so slightly with your chin towards the direction of the newbie who has been patiently sitting alone in the meeting room.

“Shoo, go to your frennie now. It seems like she's waiting for you.”

“Now you're being a bully.” Yelena crossed her arms across her chest, her pouty expression never leaving her face.

You tilt your head, slightly leaning towards the agent, “Go now, before I show you how meanie I can be.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

⧗

“Y/N go easy on her.”

“You're the second person to tell me that today,” you replied coldly to your father, a touch of defensiveness in your voice. “What did I do now? Make her come to the office on weekends when the others don't?” you huffed.

Your father just hummed and you immediately snapped back to reality after you just exposed yourself.

“I heard you never let her out of your office. Never sent her to missions, you know she actually can be the same level as Clint.” Your father noted making you bite your inner lip in frustration. She just got in the agency and the thought of her being on the same level as Clint that quickly made you feel threatened. Are you? No. But that's not fair, you spent years getting onto your level.

“Can we just eat, ‘pa? Let's just leave work behind for just one night?” you asked curtly despite the tension growing between you and your father.

“I’m starting to think you might actually be obsessed with her.” Your father casually said, chuckling slightly thinking you wouldn't take it seriously.

But something just snapped in you.

“Shut up!” Your response came out sharper than intended, your frustration seeping into your tone.

Your father flinched slightly as he was shocked by the suddenness of your outburst making him stop cutting the steak he was eating. The sound of the fork and knife rattling against his porcelain plate echoed in the brief and awkward moment of silence that followed.

You breathe heavily, “I studied her for almost half of my life! I was the one who tracked her down!” Your voice started to rise, and you gesticulated wildly as you spoke, feeling the heat of anger rising. He thinks this is funny?You wished he understood how excruciating this is for you. You have kept this to yourself for so long, keeping it under control but at this point, you're starting to crack.

“She was my mission! I know every fiber of her being for fuck’s sake! Soviet Intelligence to KGB, Red Room,” you listed off furiously, “How she thinks, who she killed and how she’s done each kill!”

“You think this is easy on me, Papa?” you looked at him clenching your brows together, trying not to break down in front of him. “Go easy on her? How about go easy on me?”

“Fuck, go easy on me,” you repeated, muttering under your breath. You sobbed and immediately got up your chair to retire for the night.

You never had any major disagreements with him and even now, you were aware that you had crossed a line by yelling and cursing at his own home, it's the rules he strictly maintained especially when you were younger. You have always been so respectful of him. Hell, you look up to him—the man was your hero.

“Your mother was a Hydra agent before I met her.” He suddenly spoke, the mention of your mother made you stop from your tracks. Fury's voice took on a softer tone as he continued. “The level 10 S.H.I.E.L.D. director falling in love with one of the affiliates of a terrorist organization. What would the world think of me?” He chuckled to himself.

Fury stumbled upon your mother when she was still under the control of Hydra. He had managed to rescue her from their clutches, though she was still imprisoned for the reason that she contributed to the Hydra’s hell-bent expenditure.

To secure her freedom, your mother agreed to work as an undercover agent for Fury, infiltrating Hydra's ranks. It was a dangerous task, but she had hoped it would give her the chance to start anew with you and leave Hydra’s ties behind.

She had died of sickness when you were just 13 years old, but even before that, Fury had adopted you.

“Like you, I knew her too. Every experiment she has done with Hydra, every network operative, plans to overthrow the world government…” he had his own list too. “Her birthday, where she was born, that she was an only child and then I learned her favorite flower, her favorite food, and that she gets rashes when she eats eggs…like you.”

You stood with your back to him, silently crying as you clench your fists together. Each tear rolling down on your cheeks whenever Fury listed off everything she knows about your mom.

“And then,” he said quietly, “I found out she had a little version of herself, you. I found out that you were the light of her life, her reason for living. She loved you more than anything in this world. And I did too, Y/N.”

You felt Fury approach you from behind, his footsteps echoing faintly on the floor. As he spoke, you could tell he was now standing right behind you.

“I was losing hope for the world, I was tired of putting everything back in place. Everyone might think that I spared her, gave her another chance. But your mother was the one who gave me a reason to give life another chance, she changed me. You both did.”

“I miss her,” you managed to say between gasps of air. Unable to hold back anymore, you crumble into your father's embrace. Fury wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried into his chest. He gently stroked your back, comforting you as you let your emotions pour out.

“I do too, baby,” he whispered quietly, “I miss her, too.”

The Call: Masterlist

[lilac-5ky]

The Assistant (officeAU!Geto x Fem!Reader x officeAU!Gojo)

based on this request, tumblr hates me.

Plot: Senior Partner at the prestigious Gojo Group's legal department, Geto Suguru never expected to fall for his newly-hired personal assistant. But when his lifelong best friend and boss takes an interest in you, Suguru fins his own feelings rapidly escalating into an uncontrollable obsession.

Tags: Office!AU, Geto POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Secretary!Reader, Lawyer!Geto, CEO!Gojo, Office Sex, Oral Sex (m.receiving), Doggy Style, Degradation, Praise, Pining, Jealousy, Obsession, Sexual Coercion, Abuse of Authority, don't get your hopes up; this isn't a threesome, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Number one bestie, you still owe me Gojo smut. But here, 14k words to quench your thirst for Suguwu.

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

“How about this one? She’s pretty hot, don’t you think, Suguru?” Satoru waves yet another paper in Suguru’s face, his excitement wearing off the moment he catches his best friend pinching his nose bridge between his fingers.

“Satoru, we are picking associate candidates, not swimming-suit contest winners.” Suguru chides in a calm tone, crossing out the woman’s name from his list with a red line that’s identical to the line above and the ones that rank above it too.

This is the 78th candidate whose CV is rejected by the two men, their task of finding Suguru the perfect assistant turning rather daunting after five emptied cups of instant coffee.

Suguru insisted he could’ve done it alone—similar to how he’d insisted he could’ve kept handling his own affairs by himself and argued against a congratulatory party in honor of his promotion. But certain wishes outweigh others, and in the legal department of Gojo Enterprises, Satoru’s word is as good as the law—one of the many perks that come with being the president’s only son.

“What’s wrong with swimming suit contests?” The white-haired man sulks, long limbs hanging gracelessly from over his chair’s backrest. He zooms in on the woman’s picture one final time before crumpling the paper into a ball that’s flung straight into the garbage bin by the door. "Hey, that was a three-pointer!"

Sigh.

Even though the two of them have been friends since Suguru can remember himself, sometimes it feels as if only one of them outgrew their fourth-grade selves. It’s nothing new for Satoru to confuse play time with work time, yet as the man who will come to inherit the entire Gojo empire, he should at least focus on how to better the company, not tear it apart.

“Nothing wrong with swimming suits or gravure models, but we should choose someone based on their skills. Remember what your father always says: a business is only as successful as—”

“‘Its team is,’ yeahyeahyeah , spare me the preach. My ears are tired of that old man’s nagging.” Satoru spins around in his chair, the rollers squeaking under his weight. “Just because someone’s pretty doesn’t mean they can’t be competent. Take me for example.” His thumb and forefinger shape an angle below his chin.

A quiet chuckle evades Suguru as he sorts the files before him and slides the next batch across Satoru’s side of the table. “Fine, if we don’t find someone who checks both criteria, then you can be my assistant.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Satoru rips another instant coffee packet open. “My hands are full already.” Throwing his head back, he empties the powder into his mouth and washes it around until the sugary substance dissolves.

“I can see that,” Suguru murmurs, masking his distaste by returning to work.

The stacks of paper soon decline, with Satoru needing a cursory look to dismiss the candidates and Suguru meticulously processing their accomplishments down to their high school extracurricular activities. Work at the firm is hard enough as is. He’s seen far too many young, ambitious interns crack under pressure and pop pills into their mouths like candy just so they can keep up.

Narrowing down his options, Suguru gets a decent idea of what he’s looking for: adaptability, flexibility, and drive. Those traits are common to all three finalists, with two of them having touched a variety of fields and the other having a background in volunteer work.

He’s all but decided on candidate number 99 when a paper plane crashes into the side of his head.

“Oops!” Satoru’s shoulders scrunch up coyly, though both he and his partner know it was very much intentional.

Suguru catches the plane, appreciating the craftsmanship behind the carefully folded wings, before he sets it on the table.

“Satoru.” His voice gains a slight edge after he spots candidate 42’s face decorating the underside of the aircraft, a comically large mustache drawn on top. “Was anyone else to your liking, or did the rest become fodder for your fleet?”

He watches his friend fish a paper crane out of his jacket, clearly pleased with himself, and he has every right to be, considering the paper is seamlessly trimmed without any scissors. Cute. Suguru smiles, withholding his praise lest it become another point of distraction.

Rolling his chair away, Satoru jumps up and slams the desk with enough force to break it. “Number 98!” He declares.

“98?” Suguru asks, and in seconds, Satoru is found hovering above his shoulder, one hand drumming against the leather chair and the other covering the (presumed) woman’s picture.

“Good grades, prestigious papers, and all that education shit you’re so fond of.” His forefinger trails between the lines. “University of Tokyo, Department of—blah blah , Essex something something, worked three years as a paralegal for the Kamos. Whole damn package, and the best thing?” He draws his palm away, slowly enough to build anticipation. “She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Satoru, I told you—”

Whatever was supposed to complete that sentence withers at the tip of Suguru’s tongue, amber irises blown as they take in every detail of your face, animating your features as if you’re truly there with them, and for a moment, he tricks himself into thinking you are.

He sees your lips—those pretty lips he swears taste like honey without kissing them—drawing away from your teeth, the mellifluous sound of your laughter coating the rumble of prints being made somewhere in the background. He knows that a picture can’t possibly hold such power, and yet the subtle floral notes in your perfume reach him, prevailing so easily over the stench of ink and coffee and enchanting him into agreeing with his friend.

She is gorgeous. Perhaps the most gorgeous woman he’s laid eyes on.

You are.

“Come on, Suguru. This one’s super cute!” Satoru argues in your favor, his jaw piercing his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, if you’re not hiring her, then I am. I can always lay off one of my—”

“Looks like you are off the hook, Satoru. This one will do.”

“And this is the kitchen. I recommend making the most of our espresso maker or heading to the cafeteria on the first floor—unless you don’t mind your coffee tasting like watered-down sugar.” Suguru nods toward the pyramid of instant coffee boxes stacked in the corner, conscious of the doe eyes that track his every gesture.

The picture barely did you any justice. You are so much prettier in person with your well-fitting two-piece suit and the pocket notebook you carry, penning down everything he says, down to the locations of kitchenware and the names of employees you meet along the way. He can’t tell whether you’re not confident enough in your ability to memorize things or simply overzealous. No matter the case, he finds your little habit endearing, but then again, the opinion of a man who endeared himself to you ahead of your acquaintance is not to be taken at face value.

“What’s the matter?” He cocks his head to the side, gaze drawn to the pen stilled in your grasp. “Too much info?”

“More like too many handles and blinking lights. One wrong button, and the whole building detonates.” You glance at him over the pages, your tone delineating a smile he cannot see.

He returns it, piecing the bang that typically never bothers him behind his ear. “Sato—I mean, Senior Partner Gojo received this as a gift from Zen’in Naobito when we moved to this building.”

“Is that so? I thought Zen’in Group was notoriously at odds with Gojo Group.”

“Oh, they are. But it’s common business tactics to trade one overpriced gift for another to see who breaks bank first.” Suguru hums, grabbing a clean mug from the rack and initiating the twelve-step process required to brew a single cup of coffee. “If I remember correctly, our side sent them a private sushi chef. His work hours were paid; the fish, not so much. Sugar?” He smirks, stirring the amount you call in your coffee.

“What happened after? Off the record.” You tap your notebook shut, and the smile he thought he heard is there, seen on your lips and felt in his heart, warmer than the beverage his hand offers.

“They kept him around for about a month before politely declining our generosity. I guess there’s a limit to how much bluefin tuna the rich can stomach.” His narrowed eyes crinkle fondly while he watches you blow the steam from your face and take your first sip. “Hope it’s to your liking.”

“The coffee or the story?”

“Both. But mostly the coffee.”

“It’s really good.” You nod appreciatively. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” Suguru disposes of the used coffee beans, failing to, however, rid himself of the soft smile perching on his lips. “It’ll take a while to get used to it, so feel free to come to me whenever you need more coffee. Or another story.”

“I could never disturb you for something like that.” You shake your head along with your hands. “What kind of assistant asks her boss to make her coffee?”

The word “boss” carries a negative connotation coming from your lips; the few inches that keep you apart rapidly expand into miles, and he hates that. It’s a gap he doesn’t want to see widened any further.

“How about you think of us as partners, then?” Suguru takes a leap while the distance’s short. “None of us gets paid to make coffee either way.”

You seem hesitant to agree, holding the weight of his stare until your determination crumbles. “Fine. But only till I get the hang of it. Then you’ll be greeted with a cup of freshly brewed espresso on your desk every morning.”

“That’s very thoughtful, but I’d rather be served tea instead. Red with one sugar?”

Overzealous , he decides as you hurriedly flip through the pages to scribble his order.

He wonders what your handwriting is like. Whether it’s scrawled and stumpy or eloquent and delicate, which isn’t the most fascinating thing to wonder about a person, but he can’t help himself from trying to pierce through the hardcover for a glimpse at your thoughts, unwittingly attracting your attention.

You share a look that flourishes over a second and withers within an eternity, its remains scattering into an airy chuckle as the machine cuts in with a sudden choo .

“I’m s-sorry!” You bow your head, bottom lip sticking out while you fail to suppress your amusement. “I didn’t expect it to sound like this. It’s just like—”

“Mhm, it does resemble the bullet train to Sendai a bit, doesn’t it?”

Suguru doesn’t necessarily think of himself as a funny man. But witnessing the little dance your fingers perform as you struggle to keep the cup steady, he might as well be the funniest man in the whole wide world.

“Shall we get going?” He prompts. “I still haven’t shown you to your office.”

“Please lead the way. Partner.” You add, unaware that the man who cruises you by almost trips over his feet. In his mind, at least.

Walking among the cubicles where various paralegals have their noses buried within tower-height stacks of memoranda, Suguru goes over your shared schedule and what is expected of you in the upcoming days, silently praying that you don’t question his insistence to wipe his sweaty palms against his slacks. He hasn’t been this stressed since he and Satoru were studying for the bar exam, and even then, it wasn’t him he was stressing about.

He recites, and you diligently take notes, up until the compact desks lessen and you find yourselves standing in front of an open space with its own reception. The senior partners’ offices—or, in other words, your boss’ and his boss’ offices.

“Hey, Shoko. Got anything for me?” Suguru asks the disinterested brunette seated at the front desk.

The woman’s eyes dart between the two of you. She acknowledges your presence with a curt bow, hardly bothering to put out her cigarette in the tray behind her. “Just this.” She pulls a yellow folder from one of the drawers and hands it to him, smoke wafting when she speaks. “It’s a letter of intent; Nanami brought it himself. Says it’s important.

“How much longer do I have to keep this up?” Shoko asks, a red imprint from where her wrist was previously propping her cheek against her elbow.

Suguru takes out the papers, skimming through the lines before stuffing them back inside and giving her a tiny smile.

“Thank you for your service, Shoko. You are fired.”

“Yay!” The woman excites in the same deadpan tone, grabbing her bag and almost knocking you down with how quick she is to flee the company premises.

“Is she—”

“Don’t worry about her.” Suguru’s attention returns to you. “She’s just a friend filling in for us.”

The way he uses the term friend is deliberate. Normally, he wouldn’t care what people make of his and Satoru’s relationship with the third member of their group, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

Tucking the folder under his armpit, Suguru proceeds to lead you to your office, situated in the same open space although much closer to the wooden door that spells his full name and title in capital gold lettering—another of Satoru’s fanciful insistences.

Your desk is half as wide as the reception’s, yet twice as spacious as the cubicle ones. The company’s logo bounces across an idle computer screen, dust particles dancing amidst the glaring light of high noon. There is a telephone and some stationery that’s either sorted in a silver pencil holder or frames the hefty planner at the center, though it’s the sticky notes dangling from its pages that end up piquing your interest.

Suguru suffered through the teasing of a lifetime for spending his entire weekend summarizing case files just so your first days wouldn’t be hectic.

(“Good for you, Suguru.” Satoru snickered from his sumptuous recliner, a tennis ball bouncing from the wall back to his hand. “Getting your first crush at the age of 28. What’s next? Drawing your initials in little hearts for her to see how well your names fit together?”

“Shut up." Suguru clicked his pen against his head, stretching his feet below the workbench-turned kotatsu. "Some people happen to function better in organized environments.”

“Mhm , all I’m hearing is Suguru and Y/N sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Satoru sang at an annoyingly gleeful pitch.)

“This,” you reel him back to the present. “You did this?”

Your eyes gleam like twin stars in their sockets. Clear, brilliant, and bright, but most importantly, boring into his.

Good for you, Suguru. Getting your first crush at the age of 28.

Suguru nearly waves his hand over his face to disperse his friend’s voice. It’s not a crush. He doesn’t think it is. Admitting to what is beautiful and reacting to it is a natural human response that has nothing to do with feelings of any kind. This is ephemeral.

“Y-yes.” A dry cough clears the hoarseness in his throat. “Thought it’d make your life easier if you knew where to focus instead of running around like a headless chicken.” He shifts through the pages in your hands. “Naturally, the indicators attached to closer dates are more urgent than the ones pushed further back, though they’re also sorted by color. Green means you can do it at your leisure, while bright pink means—”

“Danger, death, don’t skip?” You smile, and he nods eagerly. A bit too eagerly. Just like a schoolboy who was praised for giving the right answer, even though you were the one who answered correctly.

Maybe kissing on a tree wouldn’t be so bad.

“Thank you for doing this. And for hiring me.” You suddenly grow timid, bottom lip trapped in a shy smile as you extend your hand to him. “Working for this company is a great opportunity on its own, but working under—with ,” you correct yourself, “someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.” A chuckle slips. “Apologies, the different colored sticky notes got to me.”

Soft. So damn soft. Your hand is so fucking soft, enveloping his own, that he curses himself for not coming up with the idea of a handshake when he first welcomed you at the lobby. It is a problem because he doesn’t want to let go, and when he does, he does so begrudgingly, his rougher finger pads dragging over your smooth skin and lingering above your polished fingernails with such delicacy as if they were freshly bloomed rosebuds.

“There are more in the drawer.” He nods toward the first drawer, a smirk coming as an afterthought. “Paper clips too.”

“Don’t tell me there’s a stapler in there too!” You gasp dramatically.

“Guess you’re gonna have to see for yourself.” His head droops to the side, and he smiles.

Your head droops to the side, and you smile back. You. Smile. Back.

The notion settles in his heart before registering in his brain, nestling where nothing can pry it off and inking itself as an indelible memory that’s bound to haunt him throughout the review of the Tengen shares redistribution, on which he better get started.

“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

He manages about three steps away when your voice has him stopping in his tracks.

“Mr. Geto, you shouldn’t have!”

There are quite a few things he shouldn’t have done. For starters, waking up two hours ahead of his alarm, mixing the salt with the sugar in his morning tea (though something tells him that was the work of someone else), wearing his watch on the wrong wrist, and letting himself be smitten with his brand new assistant, whom he’s barely known for half a day. But you don’t know about any of those things. At least he hopes you don’t.

So, which one is it?

He turns around slowly, jaw almost dropping at the flower field spanning between your arms, roses redder than the blood boiling in his veins and peonies pinker than the tinge rising high on your cheeks—an arrangement bound with ivory wrapping paper.

“How do you like your welcoming gift?” The harbinger of disaster, conveniently known as his best friend, boss, and apparent competitor, makes his entrance.

“You are—”

“Gojo Satoru—local entrepreneur of the year, number one in Forbes’ 30 under 30, featured on the cover of Times magazine, most eligible bachelor in the world after his highness, the Archduke of Austria, and ringleader of this establishment—in the flesh!” He introduces himself like a certain character from Game of Thrones would, taking an excessively dramatic bow and rushing to your side with a wolfish smile that sharpens his otherwise gentle features.

“And you must be Y/N, right?” Without hesitation, Satoru hops into first name basis, cerulean eyes casting an indiscreet look over his sunglasses as he bends forward, hands kept on his knees. “My, you are even more beautiful in person! The picture did you no justice at all!”

And just like that, every single word that’d steadily been brewing in Suguru’s mind is taken away from him, Satoru praising you with the same ease and unparalleled confidence he bought the extravagant bouquet in your embrace, one that befits a lifelong lover more than a newly acquainted colleague.

“Mr. Gojo, I—I don’t know what to say.” Your eyes remain glued to the flowers, tense shoulders slightly squirming.

“Hmm, how about you start with dropping the honorifics? I hate having barriers between me and my employees.” He didn’t seem to hate barriers when he made Ijichi address him as Grand Emperor Gojo for a month straight as punishment. “We are all the same age here. Call me Gojo unless,” he smirks playfully, tilting his head to where you can no longer escape him, “you feel bold enough to call me Satoru.”

“Satoru.” The monotone intonation of his name carries a warning the white-haired man heeds, sparing you in favor of using his friend’s shoulder as an armrest.

“Suguru! Are you done with showing our”—our?—“lovely new assistant around?”

“What’s with the flowers?”

“The flowers?” Satoru chuckles boisterously. “What are you talking about? That’s how I welcome every new member of our team!”

“I don’t remember receiving any flowers when I signed my contract.” A mumble is met with a light elbow to his neck.

“You get paid enough to afford your own.” Satoru huffs, switching back to his amicable persona in the blink of an eye—your watchful eye that’s been studying them without daring to interfere. Another chuckle, accompanied by a poke to Suguru's cheek. “Tulips or dahlias? Name it, and I’ll turn your office into a greenhouse.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Are the two of you close?” Your voice forces the two men to break from each other, a furtive glance shared among them.

“Suuuuper close!” Satoru squeezes his friend’s shoulders into another unwanted embrace. “Been best friends since—third grade, was it? Hah, remember the time you called principal Yaga mom during morning assembly, and he started growing out his beard ‘cause he thought he wasn’t manly enough? Hilarious.”

Anger seethes in Suguru’s guts like a shaken can of soda about to combust, fizzling out before it can reach its boiling point. “Satoru.” He grits his teeth. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the shareholder meeting?”

“The shareholder—” He repeats, almost surprised, laughing awkwardly to himself. “Oh, turns out I wasn’t needed much. Left Ijichi in charge; he should be fine. Probably .”

A caricature of Ijichi suffering a mental breakdown while trying to placate those senile, cymbal-hitting monkeys plays in both their heads, barring yours.

“Ijichi is President Gojo’s personal assistant.” Suguru explains, pinching Satoru’s sleeve away from his body—except he doesn’t budge. “He’s been working under Satoru for the past four months as his secretary, reporting directly to his father since his only son wasn’t so good at budget handling and had his allowance cut. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”

“Let’s not talk about such tedious subjects in front of Y/N.” The man pulls away at once, running a hand through messy strands of white.

“I actually don’t mind—”

“Measuring up to all your quirks and abiding by your crazy filing system should bore her enough on its own.” He cuts you off, speaking behind his palm as if his words are meant solely for you. “Has Suguru shown you his little planner? Took him two all-nighters to put it together, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

He rests assured in his victory, not counting on you being the one who knocks him down a peg.

“Mhm, he already did, and I already thanked him. I’m a firm believer that a clear desk means a clear mind, and a clear mind means efficiency.” The flowers are at last unloaded upon your desk, their lengthy stems covering about two-thirds of the furniture. “Cluttering your workspace with a bunch of unnecessary items will only stagger your progress and make you fall behind. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Gojo?”

It’s rare to catch Satoru at a loss for words, yet there he stands, completely still and utterly speechless at your mercy, his expression akin to that of a wrongfully sprayed kitten.

The two of you turn to Suguru, seeking some sort of recognition that would settle the score. Any other person in his shoes would side with the authority in the room, but your referee decides to sit this one out.

He knows what Satoru is thinking. Substance is dull without style, and tri-colored dango tastes best in spring. He never had to choose one over the other, but giving you a piece of his mind would make him look indecisive—or worse, shallow—and he doesn’t want that. He wants to look good in front of you, or else he wouldn’t have worn his most expensive suit and bailed out of the most important meeting of the month.

He dug his own grave, and unexpectedly, the helping hand that pulls him out belongs to the one who first cast dirt upon his casket.

“Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Gojo. They might not have a place on my desk, but they’ll sure make a lovely centerpiece for my table at home. Peonies, right?” Your smile is effortlessly disarming. “I don’t know much about flowers, but I hear they symbolize good fortune.”

“They do?” Satoru asks, slapping the stupefied expression off his face. “I mean, yeah! Of course they do!” He bounces back, soft dimples obliterating a deep-carved frown. “I hope your time here brings you lots of good fortune. I know the place already seems more fortunate with you around.”

You chuckle warmly, locking eyes with an impressed Suguru. No one’s ever made Satoru both lose face and helped him save some over the span of a single five-minute conversation. No one but Suguru himself.

He made the right choice by hiring you.

“The rumors about the future head of the company were true. You really are everything they make you out to be.”

“Huh? What rumors? What do they say about me?” Satoru chases you to your desk, an imaginary tail wagging behind him as he watches you pick up your notebook and flip to a blank page.

“How do you drink your coffee?” A tap of your pen. “I know it’s not much, but...I’d like to repay your kindness.”

Oh no. Here we go again.

“I’m pretty easy. I drink my espresso with six sugar cubes, my cappuccino with nine pumps of caramel syrup, sweet condensed milk, whipped cream, and caramel drizzle on top—and, of course, the six sugar cubes. In the summer— oh crap, I almost forgot, I also like mocha, both white and regular, again same toppings—I usually go for iced lattes with—”

Two minutes into taking his order, and about twenty seconds after your pen stops moving, you glance at Suguru for help. The man simply shrugs, amusement hinted in his cat-like eyes.

There is a good reason why the kitchen’s loaded on instant coffee, and that’s because it’s the only thing that can quench Satoru’s sweet tooth on the spot. You’re going to have to figure that out on your own, just like every other unfortunate soul in this company did when they stupidly offered to treat him.

“That reminds me!” A finger snap concludes his monologue. “Suguru, you know what day it is?”

“Tuesday?”

“You mean one-plus-one Tuesday. Ah, you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to my weekly croquette sandwich; wouldn’t have gotten out of bed if it wasn't for it. Erm , and you ,” he says, again running his fingers through his hair as he bestows you with another laid-back smile. “The two highlights of my week.”

Suguru sighs, convincing himself it’s the prospect of leaving so much work behind that doesn’t excite him and not the sight of Satoru’s affections being subtly reciprocated.

“So, you coming?” Satoru asks.

“I’m gonna have to pass.”

“What?” He gapes, hand clutching his chest like a child who just found out they’re adopted. “Why?”

“Because we are meeting with Tengen’s representatives at the end of the week and they’ll withdraw their investment unless we have a clear model for their merger.” Suguru reminds him. “Besides, Satoru, you don’t need me to buy lunch when you can literally buy out the place with one of your cards.”

Fixing his glasses higher over his nose, Satoru opens his mouth to complain, deciding against it at the last minute. He shoots a haughty look in Suguru's general direction. “Well, if you’re really that busy, then—ah, guess it can’t be helped. Least you can do is be responsible and send a replacement. And who could that replacement be—hmm, if only there was an available candidate.”

He scopes the place with a palm horizontal to his eyes, stopping once he supposedly detects your presence. “What do you say, new girl? Perhaps this could be our chance to get to know each other. I bet there’s so much you’re dying to ask me.” He says with a stare far too playful to be deemed salacious.

Round glasses come off as Satoru leans against your desk and plays up his charms. You are drawn to the blue spirals in his eyes, mesmerized by their sublime beauty, and in a way, it’s nature’s will for the stars to seek the skies, but Suguru can’t stand for it. Not when such bitterness floods his palate, spreading into his bloodstream like poison that prompts his body to move against every volition that isn’t his own.

“Let’s go.” He rasps in a nearly menacing tone, claw-like fingers closing around Satoru’s shoulder. “Your treat.”

"She is scary!" Breadcrumbs fall from Satoru's mouth as he takes another bite out of his lunch, tonkatsu sauce overlining his cupid's bow. "Terrifying even."

"I thought you said she was hot." Suguru states wryly, still in the process of peeling the fifteen layers of wrapping paper that encompass his sandwich, when he pauses to offer Satoru a couple of napkins.

He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like thank you, and wipes his lips clean, only to dirty them with another sloppy bite.

"She is," he agrees after gulping down, snowy eyelashes fluttering shut to a moan that has people from different tables turning heads to theirs. "Both scary and hot. Scarily hot. Mmm, so damn good~"

Another obscene sound vibrates in his throat, and this time, Suguru fails to hide his disgust, staring at his friend like a disappointed mother at a parent-teacher conference.

"What?" Satoru asks, the blue in his eyes expanding as he touches his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

"Satoru." Suguru shakes his head, speaking in a quiet voice all the while pleading with him to stop acting grossly in public.

It's safe to say his request isn't received well, although it takes just one mention of your name for Satoru to let go of his grudge and perk up again.

"Did you see how mean she was to me?" The giddiness in his tone fails to match his words. "Ready to walk all over me with those heels. Bet she would have if you weren't there."

"And? Giving up already?" Suguru teases.

"Who said I am?" Satoru chugs his coke. "Just hafta try harder."

Any joy Suguru might have felt at his friend's misery ends up parching in his throat, squinted eyes casting an inexcusably hard glare on the sandwich he grips with malice.

"God, did ya see her smile? Bet her lips taste like heaven."

"And what does heaven taste like?"

"Probably as good as this," Satoru says, nodding to his half-finished meal, "but sweeter. Infinite times sweeter. I'll let you know once I find out for myself."

Every word that comes out of Satoru's mouth causes Suguru's fingers to clutch tighter and tighter until the croquettes explode out of his sandwich, splattering the table and his hand with bits of potato and sauce.

"Ah. Sorry, I wasn't—" Suguru drops the remains on his plate, cleaning his fingers one by one. He isn't even sure what he's apologizing for.

"Want me to get you another?" Satoru offers. "I could go for seconds."

"It's fine. Not hungry anymore."

Gardenia or tuberose?

The same question repeats in Suguru's brain, begging to distract him from the slew of paperwork he's been asked to sign, but not from the actual distraction that is bent over his desk, making him question not just his sanity but also his self-control.

Tuberose.

He doesn't think much of either is left when he breathes in the perfume dabbed around your shirt's open collar, alluring to the point where he catches himself chasing after your neck like a hound dog—heavy breath hitching in his chest.

Gardenia.

He doubts he has any left when his amber eyes peer into your cleavage, tracing the contour between your supple breasts down to the first popped button of your shirt—large palms aching to seize them.

Tuberose.

He realizes he is not half the decent man he was about a month ago when his cock twitches at the sight of your pencil skirt riding higher on your thighs, the black seams of your sheered stockings promising a fast track to your tight little cunt—and how he’d love to gain access to that.

Gardenia or tuberose; who cares?

Figuring out the notes in your perfume is about the last thing Suguru cares about when every inch of his body urges him to blow your back against the lavish mahogany, signing the rest of these documents in a mix of your spit and tears. But it's what helps keep those intrusive thoughts from spilling out.

"One more signature here." Ignorant about his dark impulses, you shuffle through the papers and point at another blank place of signature he needs to fill. "It's a referral agreement for Miss Mei's services. She said the terms were verbally agreed upon, but feel free to go over them again and suggest any adjustments."

"That won't be necessary." With a few quick flicks of his pen, Suguru jots down his name. "Thank you for your hard work."

He struggles to meet your eyes without first halting at your tits as you collect the documents and hug them (regrettably) close to your chest, pulling away from his desk to stand before him.

"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Geto!" A sweet smile is plastered on your face, and he can't help but wonder whether you'd continue smiling at him if you ever caught a whiff of the filth festering in his brain.

He doesn't like what his feelings have matured into. He's not proud that every time your eyes cross, he muses over what they'd look like rolling to the back of your skull or how sometimes he'll lock his office door and beat his cock to the thought of your pretty nails digging in his thighs while he bullies his length into the heat of your throat.

He hates that those aren't even his own thoughts but were rather instilled in him by Satoru, who couldn't be more vocal and descriptive of his own fantasies if he wanted to. He's the same way about his advances, and it drives Suguru insane to see his friend making such quick headway because he remains Mr. Geto while he gets to be Satoru.

It's all because of that damn merger...

The first time Suguru heard you address Satoru by his first name came right after a business meal he was forced to sit out of. Someone had to deal with the last-minute amendment Tengen requested to their already-filed and approved work plan, while another entertained their prospective investors. Seeing as Satoru was the face of the company, he couldn't possibly miss such an important meeting, and so they divided responsibilities.

Suguru stayed back to deal with the crisis, but not without sending you on his behalf—all pretty and dolled-up in your navy halter dress and black pumps, shining like the evening star by Satoru's side, only to come back completely drained of light with the worst shoe bite known to man.

Ever the observant gentleman, Suguru ran to the nearest drugstore, returning to the office with his heart in his mouth and a bag full of supplies that dropped from his hands the moment he saw his best friend kneel before your feet, tying the shoelaces of a newly bought pair of sneakers.

Thank you, Satoru.

The same scene repeated itself many a time, his lesser romantic gestures outdone by a price tag he couldn't match and words he couldn't brace himself to say just yet.

A fluff of white hair orbited around your desk at a constant, like a bumblebee who'd discovered an inexhaustible source of nectar, and you grew close enough not to swat it—him—away. You'd answer his jokes with mirthful chuckles, and he'd answer your “Here's your stomach ache of a cappuccino, Satoru” with platinum-coated Mont Blanc pens and luxury Moleskine agendas. Plural.

Light touches, flirty smiles, and heart-eyes in both your voices, whose volume bypassed his closed door as an irritating buzz that had Suguru wondering whether there had been a change of offices.

The breaking point came two nights ago, when, in the spur of jealousy, he heaped you with enough work to keep your desk lamp burning all night long. He regretted it as soon as he got into his car, and then he stepped on the pedal, driving to that one Chinese place he and Satoru frequented while they were still students—driving again like a maniac to ensure the food reached you hot.

But great minds think alike.

By the time Suguru made it back into the office, a proper candle-lit dinner was held over the scattered papers on your desk that then doubled as coasters. A second chair was drawn near yours, two silhouettes huddled together. Shoulders nudging, chopsticks lifted—and he refused to stick around long enough to watch his best friend feed dumplings directly into your mouth, along with whatever was bound to follow.

Which pulls him back to the current reality of his foggy windows and the cold tea on his desk, with present-you staring at him, oblivious to his dilemma.

He knows he has no right to feel this way. You aren't his property, and contrary to what the media wants the world to believe, Satoru isn't some heartless womanizer who changes girls the same way people change socks. In fact, Suguru can't remember the last time he saw Satoru this invested in a person. You hitting it off is a good thing. He should be happy.

He should be.

He really should.

But he isn't.

He really isn't.

And he doubts he'll ever be, because in his whole life, he's never envied anything that Satoru has. Not his money, not his status, not his prestige—not anything. You're the first thing he's ever envied—the first he's ever wanted. Because you are his assistant, and within the wretched spiral of his desires, that should amount to something.

You should be his.

"So.” Suguru takes a sip of his tea, trying his hardest not to cringe at its unpleasant, lukewarm taste. "Any special plans for the holidays?"

You shake your head slowly and then with more confidence again.

"That's good." He blurts out, masking his relief with a low chuckle. "I mean—"

“I get it.” You chuckle back. “Not a big fan of the holidays, are you?”

“Not a hater either. Satoru,” he mentally curses himself for bringing him up now, “is the one who gets all excited about Christmas. Gives him the perfect opportunity to put on a show without being chastised by President Gojo. Hard to argue back when he brings up the morale of the team."

“Well, everyone seems to be excited for the party." You add. "Especially the interns; heard them gushing about it with Assistant Manager Haibara."

"I don't suppose Intern Fushiguro was with them, was he?" Suguru smirks as you confirm his suspicions. The boy might be Satoru's protegee, yet the two are like night and day when it comes to means of entertainment.

"It's Intern Kugisaki and Intern Itadori's first Christmas at our company, and the press always finds a way to glorify anything related to the Gojos." Suguru continues. "The annual Christmas party isn't an exception. Outsiders need a special invitation, and only a select few make the cut."

"We should consider ourselves lucky, then." You point out.

"Mhm," he hums. "Come think of it, it's your first Christmas with us too. Are you excited?" A teasing lilt colors his voice.

"Definitely am!" You humor him. "Especially after hearing about the ugly sweater contest."

"Fan of the sport or the prize?"

"Both. But five days at a deluxe resort in Okinawa do sound enticing."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you." Suguru folds his arms over his chest and tilts back against his chair. A condescending look spreads over his features.

You mirror his stance, sticking your right heel out. "And why is that? Are you competing perhaps?"

He snorts as if the notion alone is plain ridiculous. "I'm not, but Nanami is."

"Nanami? Manager Nanami?" You blink in disbelief, trying and mostly failing to contain your laughter. Not like he can fault you. A man as practical and square-minded as Nanami sporting sweaters that feature 3D reindeer heads is a sight one must see in order to believe.

"He's oddly passionate about this." Suguru explains. "He's won every contest for the past four years, just to enjoy a little time off."

"I should give it my best then."

"I'll be cheering for you." He promises with a wink, picking up on the faint blush that dusts your cheeks. A small victory.

You bite your lip and cast a gaze to the floor before lifting your head in search of the clock on his wall. He sighs internally.

"So." You return to the beginning of your discussion.

"So." He repeats with a softer tone.

"I guess I'll be seeing you at the party?"

"Guess you will." He nods, gesturing toward the door. "You may go. I need to finish these first.

You nod back and hold onto the door knob, turning around one last time to bow at him. "There's an extra umbrella on my desk. Feel free to take it."

Before Suguru can even consider his answer, you turn into smoke, leaving him with a hopeful smile he scolds himself for. A thoughtful gesture can't possibly undo all the sorrow and anguish he experienced over the course of a mere month.

And yet he still finds himself skipping to your desk, grinning now at the little piece of paper that dangles from the umbrella's handle. It's not a spare, that's for sure.

As lightning cracks the gloomy skies above, Suguru faces toward the window, tracking the thunder's tail down to gray cement, where colorful umbrellas dance around like anemones. Yours twirls like the most beautiful flower of all, vivid petals drawing into themselves as you're ushered into a white SUV by a hand belonging to a man he knows all too well—driven away while Suguru stands there watching, feeling as if cold rain pours over him instead.

He sets down the umbrella and returns to his office.

After the fifth replay of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" blasts over the speakers, Suguru begins to reconsider the answer he gave you less than 24 hours ago.

He hates Christmas—the buzz, the fuss. The forced happiness and the self-inflicted festive glee. The repetitive songs and the continuous camera flash. The stuffy atmosphere and the nausea-inducing blinking lights. How every snack gets labeled with an ambiguous "Christmas flavor," as if a holiday can have a taste in the first place; he hates all that.

But most of all, he hates not being the one to stand beside you under that damn mistletoe—a spectator among spectators and an outcast even among them.

Champagne trembles in his hand as he watches the crowd gather around you and Satoru, smothering you with cheers that sound a beat above the music, excessive clapping synchronized for the sake of a four-letter word chanted like a prayer. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

You don't give in to their demands. Not immediately, at least. There is some awkward fumbling, a hand weaving through semi-combed strands of white, and the pointy end of a heel dragging incomplete circles. You shake your heads in unison, giggling, making a very weak effort to get yourselves out of this predicament, though the people know exactly what they want. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

It's quick and painless. Chaste, as Satoru leans forward and pecks your cheek, grinning a shit-eating grin from one ear to the other when he pulls away and waves off the jeers. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Louder this time. His lips move soundlessly, wordless speech bubbles emerging in faux protest as if he isn't dying to kiss you, as if you aren't dying to be kissed by the most important man in the room, as if this poorly executed play isn't staged.

Suguru finds himself wishing you'd get it over with, yet he can't bring himself to turn away. Much like everyone else, his gaze is fixed on you, enchanted by you since day one, and imprisoned in a dismal spell that continues to wring his heart for all its worth, threatening to leave him shattered.

You take initiative this once. Stepping in front of Satoru, your fingers seek the hem of his cream-colored cashmere sweater. You pull him to you, reeling and reeling and reeling, and—

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Geto!" A pair of impressionable eyes widen before him, stretched arms springing from the man's body as he jumps before Suguru like a jack-in-the-box.

"Haibara." He acknowledges with a sigh, uncertain of whether he should be thanking him or scolding him for blocking his view.

By the time his junior pulls aside, the spectacle is already over. Everyone has returned to their previous positions, resuming their conversations away from you and Satoru, who are left gleaming like Christmas ornaments, tinged red from head to toe.

"Mm, these taste so good! Mr. Geto, you need to try one," Haibara says, lifting a platter of canapés from the buffet behind them.

Suguru forces himself to smile as he throws a salmon spread into his mouth. He swallows without understanding any flavor, washing the crumbs away with some more champagne, the buzz of alcohol promising to dull out his affliction.

"Are you enjoying the party?"

"Very much so!" Haibara answers full of excitement. "So many new faces have gathered since last year; I'm so glad to be a part of this. Nanami even let me help with his sweater design!"

"Is that so?" Suguru chuckles wryly, scanning through the guests for the blond.

He spots Nanami loitering by where your desk is normally stationed (the majority of furniture relocated for the sake of opening up the space), and while he cannot see the front of his burgundy sweater, he can easily make out the antler headband sitting on both his and Itadori's heads, the two men seeming to have joined forces.

The discussion between Haibara and Suguru soon turns stale, with the former gushing about the inner happenings of the sales department and the latter absently nodding in approval, his attention monopolized by the exchange between you and Satoru.

Even when the occasional guest butts in, you remain inseparably bound to each other through your clothes (both of you dressed to the nines despite your intent to partake in the contest), your gestures, and the hands that gain familiarity over time. His slips around your lower back as he whispers in your ear; yours throws a playful punch at his shoulder, while you giggle at whatever he just said.

Probably some crappy Christmas pick-up line, Suguru decides. Something like, Wanna pop by my apartment later? No need for any mistletoe when we're both under my sheets, followed by a Satoru! Not here; people are watching .

"Mr. Gojo and Ms. Y/N sure look friendly." Haibara's observation comes as the final nail in the coffin.

Suguru murmurs in a low tone. "Think she's interested in him?"

"Hard to find a person who isn't interested in Mr. Gojo." Haibara earnestly replies.

“Right…”

"But the same goes for you too, Mr. Geto." Haibara's voice prompts Suguru to face him. A soft smile plays on the younger man's lips, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. "I've been looking up to you since I first started working here. All of us do, even Nanami."

"You do?" Suguru draws confidence from his junior's timidity, enough to bestow him with a lopsided smile. "Why is that?"

"Because you are a hard worker!" Haibara declares. "Mr. Gojo is brilliant, but he was born into it. For us to reach him, that's impossible. You, on the other hand—you built yourself from the ground up. You are not only meticulous and good at your job, but you are also immeasurably kind! Both before and after your promotion, you've cared for us juniors and made the company a hospitable place for everyone. You are the goal we aspire to reach; you are our role model."

Working with someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.

A role model, huh...

Your words mix with Haibara's, swirling round and round at the languid pace of alcohol in his brain, inebriating enough for him to not reject them like he otherwise would. He knows what needs to be said. I'm the one who's grateful. I wouldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for such capable juniors. Satoru is the one you should be thanking instead.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru .

It's all him; it's always him. Everyone and everything in this room is here because of him, yet for the second time, Suguru is thanked for his efforts. For the nights he spent reviewing reports, fixing typos, and making overseas phone calls. For buttering clients up and spending every waking minute of his life networking. For talking people through their breakdowns and promising them their work makes a difference; that they matter.

It's almost enough to make up for all the unconditional praise his best friend received since birth, though Suguru refuses to let that be his consolation prize. Not when the perfect winning prize lies right ahead of him and waltzes into his office. Alone .

A glassy sound is produced as Suguru drops off his champagne and smiles at his colleague from over his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Haibara."

The door creaks softly behind Suguru as he enters his cloakroom-turned office, the faint click of a lock muffled out by the fading party music, its people fading with until it’s just you and him, away from distractions and interruptions, but more importantly, away from Satoru.

You haven’t noticed him yet. Your back’s turned on him, the golden threads of your sweater twinkling in the dark while you rummage through the coat racks, feeling out every texture with your fingertips. Wool, nylon, leather, and finally, cotton. The dark-colored jacket is slung over your arm, with your other hand digging into each pocket for… something .

Something that falls to the wayside once you become aware of the man’s presence and let out a tiny shriek.

“Mr. Geto!” There you go with that damn honorific again. “What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed into my own office?" Suguru sneers as he paces farther inside, his palms clasped behind his back.

"Y-you just scared me, is all."

He settles against his desk to study your startled features. You look even more beautiful when there's no one to steal your shine—a modern-day princess Kaguya, beckoned by the moonlight to return to its cratered land, although he’s made up his mind. Unlike the emperor in the story, he won’t let you escape him.

"Wasn't my intention." Drowning out his adoration, he cocks his head to the side and nods at your jacket. “Leaving already?”

“No, uh.” You fidget awkwardly, shoving whatever it is that your fingers caught back in your pocket. “Satoru asked—”

“Satoru, huh?” His tongue clicks in distaste. "You do anything Satoru asks?"

“What?” You question your own hearing, though he knows you heard him just fine. He sees it trembling in your eyes—feels it fanning against his jaw as he pulls away from his desk and stands before you, looking down on you in more than one way.

"I said, you'd do anything as long as Satoru is the one asking?"

"I...I'm not sure I understand."

"You don't?" His tone is syrupy, yet not sweet—a smile too condescending to be compassionate. "Allow me to rephrase, then. If Satoru asked you to spread your legs for him, would you?"

"Mr. Geto, I think you had too much to drink.” You chuckle nervously, gesturing toward his shoulder while simultaneously avoiding his stare. “Should I call you a cab? I don’t think you’re in a condition to drive.”

“No.” Suguru snaps, swatting your hand away. “No, you don’t get to play good assistant now. I asked you a question. Answer.” 

He doesn't miss the hesitant bow of your head, which only confirms his suspicions. You want his best friend, and for once, he doesn't care that you do. It doesn't upset him. If anything, it offers him greater incentive to keep going without regard for your feelings or his own.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" The last vestige of bitterness follows him to the coffee table, where he grabs a seat by one of the two chairs, wood screeching like nails across a blackboard. Mounting one leg atop the other, "Can't say I blame you. President Gojo is growing too old to be running things, and Satoru already handles the majority of his affairs. Won't be long until he assumes office, and when he does, whoever is on his side will benefit the most."

Your silence encourages Suguru to continue. "But as things currently stand, you aren't all that important to him, are you? And if you were to suddenly lose your position, his interest in you would probably diminish."

"What do you want?" Your voice is meek when you speak—a pitiful sound begging to tug at his heartstrings.

Except he has no pity left.

Suguru leans forward and spreads his thighs over the cushion. His elbows prop against them, with his intertwined fingers providing a seat for his clenched jaw—dark eyes ever drilling holes into your fragile skull.

“It’s not about what I want, but about what you want. You said that working at this company is a great opportunity, and you’re right. It really is. I’d hate for you to lose it over a simple matter of allegiance.”

“Allegiance?” You echo.

He nods. “Don’t you think an assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her? You get paid to do what I say, not whore yourself to Satoru. If I tell you to jump, you should jump, and if I tell you to drop on your knees and stick your tongue out, that’s exactly what you must do. Getting the picture now?”

“Is that…so?” A hum answers your question. “Very well.”

Amber irises harden below knitted eyebrows, their transparent warmth giving way to opaque desire as he watches you approach with steady strides, his cock stiffening in his pants from the sharp intonation of your heels alone. 

Something has shifted within you, though he can’t pinpoint exactly what. It’s like he sees you for the first time, confidence emanating from your very being as you drop off your jacket and gracefully sink on the floor before him, pleated skirt pooling around your bent knees—cherry lips licked together as your hands trail up his slacks and undo his belt, zipper next.

Is this really happening? Was it really that easy?

“Could you lift your hips, please?” You ask demurely, in the same considerate way you’d offer to refill his cup every morning. 

A moment passes before Suguru obliges, part of him failing to separate fantasy from reality. He’s dreamed about this so many times that if it weren't for the soft palms rubbing up and down against his thighs, he’d be pinching himself awake. But you are definitely real, and you’re definitely there, and despite his conscience screaming that this is all wrong, he doesn’t let a future regret hold him back.

Shimmying out of both underwear and pants, Suguru’s cock springs free, already hard and twitching in anticipation, its slight curve pointing at your agape mouth. Your warm breath sends tingles up his spine as you inch closer, your lips rounding and then puckering hard around the fat tip. It's almost enough for him to lose composure, kissing his teeth when he feels your tongue drag a teasing circle on the underside of his shaft, wet and hot and far more skilled than he's ever imagined.

You let go before any praise evades Suguru, studying his lustful expression with a complacent smile that ends up rubbing him the wrong way. How many smiles have you offered Satoru while looking up at him like that? How many times have you practiced your technique on him to hone it to perfection? How many laughs have the two of you shared at Suguru's expense, knowing he's hopelessly wrapped around your dainty little finger?

Quick to wipe the hubris from your face, he takes hold of his cock and delivers a derogatory smack across your cheek.

"Test my patience one more time, and you'll be crawling out of here." His voice retains its smoothness even as he rubs the leaky slit against your lips, smearing a thin coat of glossy precum before he pushes his way back inside. "Better give me a good reason why I should keep an ungrateful slut like you around."

Suguru takes his time to explore your mouth, mapping out the wet cavern in its entirety. Your teeth are tucked behind your lips, their gentle firmness complementing the expert strokes laid by your tongue. Your cheeks hollow to accommodate him, air sucked and drool wetting his throbbing cock, some of it trickling to your chin. It's an extremely tight fit that grows tighter with every inch he stuffs you with, hitting the back of your throat long before he's wholly sheathed.

"Fuck." His head tips back in pure bliss. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

Doe eyes flick up, their lecherous innocence holding him captive. He thought he'd forsaken all affection held for you, yet his heart begs to differ, lurching at the sight of your bare knees bruising against the polished marble.

He's tempted to call it quits and pull you to his lap, praying that the sweet words piling in his brain seep into your ears like poetry and register as an apology. That, somehow, you forgive the selfish arms cradling you and excuse the greedy lips drinking from your mouth as if it were a chalice; that you allow a heathen like him to express his reverence with deep thrusts and profound pleasure that will make you worship him as much as he longs to worship you, names tangling in a breathless mantra.

He's about to do just that when suddenly he's reminded of how moments ago you were locking lips with his best friend in front of a live audience, and the resentment within him swells anew, expanding like a black hole set on devouring him. He shouldn't hope for more, because you won't be coming back for more. After tonight ends, you'll go running back to Satoru, and he'll be lucky if his attorney's license doesn’t get revoked. 

So much for being a role model.

Might as well enjoy himself while it lasts.

Brushing the sticky strands of hair away from your face, Suguru pulls them into a makeshift ponytail that he uses as leverage to drive himself in deeper, letting out a stuttered groan once he bottoms out. Tears well in your eyes as he holds you completely still, heavy lashes blinking rapidly to filter them out. 

"Lookin' so pretty with my cock in your mouth."  Suguru rasps in a candied tone, his thumb rubbing against the apple of your cheek with tenderness before he forces your head to bob back and forth on his length. "Wonder what Satoru would say if he saw you like this. Perhaps we should call him in, mm ? Have him see what good that little mouth is when it's all plugged and can't talk back. Maybe he'll want to take turns using it. Maybe you’ll walk outta here with a bonus. My capable—ngh—assistant promoted to office slut." 

There’s no way for you to respond. Even if he pulls back this instant, the wit he fell in love with will still be gone. Right now, you’re nothing more than a hole for him to take out his frustrations—no better than an average whore choking on dick.

The party music continues to blare strong in the background, your soft gagging barely enough to mute the rounds of applause that still reverberate in his gauged ears—so he fucks your face faster and harder, his hips slamming forward in tandem with the mean fingers gripping your skull, each thrust producing a sound more sinful than the one before.

He’s hellbent on erasing that kiss from his memory, keen on replacing his friend’s taste with that of his cum, and he’d be damned if he didn’t feel amazing in the process, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your jaw purely addictive.

And when he catches you rubbing your thighs together, he almost busts on the spot.

“You—hah—you really don’t care who it is, do you? Whether it’s me or him,” Suguru stammers, his tone whinier than he’d hoped. “As long as there’s cock in your mouth, you’re satisfied, aren’t you? Be honest; you aren’t even doing it for the job. You just get off on being used.”

He’s slowed down enough for the pleasurable vibrations on his cock to be felt, your eyes screwed shut with a hand lost between layers of skirt, searching for some sort of relief—relief he decides you don’t deserve.

“Ah-ah-ah! Who said you could cum, hm ?” Suguru chastises you by yanking you off his cock, a string of saliva chasing after your jaw as you stumble backward. “Told you to give me a reason not to fire you, and you did what exactly?” He tilts his head curiously. “That’s what I thought. Absolutely nothing. Not even worth the trouble.” 

“W-wait!”

Before he has the chance to leave you high and dry on the floor, you scramble across your garments and tug at his pants in a pathetic attempt to get him to sit back down. He indulges. Not like he was serious about leaving anyway.

Your palm wraps around the base of his cock as you lean closer, licking a sloppy stripe from the base to his tip, and then all the way down again, sucking one of his balls into your mouth while simultaneously jerking him off. 

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” Suguru breathes out, grabbing at the arms of his chair—his hips bucking into your palm. “Such a nasty little slut. Must really want this cock, huh? Come on. Show me how much you want this.”

Your eyes shine as though he praised you, and this time, you hold nothing back. You moan like you’re the one who derives pleasure, humming and even mewling as you switch from one ball to the other, your nose nuzzling to his warmth.

You pump him without a break, furiously rotating your palm over his cock head and squeezing right below with a ring shaped by your thumb and forefinger. Only he knows how he manages to hold back, pleasure so dizzying that his head spins, rearranging the furniture in the room.

“Th-that’s enough.” He voices amidst a broken moan, gently prying your wrist away—your mouth unlatching soon after.

Everything falls back into order as Suguru provides you both a much-needed reprieve, which you spend soaking in each other’s expressions. Dark strands of hair have fallen from his bun, clear beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. The shadows cast by the blinds conceal his flushed complexion, whereas the contrasting light exposes yours. Your chest heaves with every labored breath you take, mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and lipstick transferred from your lips to his cock, painting the pink tip scarlet red.

You look utterly debauched, but it’s not enough for him to call it a day. He wants more of you on him and more of him on you—more evidence that tonight wasn’t a figment of his imagination, taking place in the men’s room in between insufferable business meetings. Rather than keeping things a secret, he wants the whole world to know what transpired behind the closed doors of his office, and that sparks an idea.

He needs to put more of him in you.

With a small smile playing on his lips, Suguru helps you up, steadying you against his arms until you're able to stand on your own. You thank him with a hoarse voice and wobble on your heels as you're made to follow him to his desk, assuming position without him needing to speak a single command. You bend over the hard surface like you did the previous day and all the days before that, except your skirt's now rolled well over your thighs, and nothing obscures his view of your panties.

“How eager,” Suguru murmurs as he caresses the curve of your bare ass down to your clothed cunt, parting with a sigh when his pointer traces over the drenched fabric and prods it into your slit. “So wet from sucking my dick? Sure you weren’t thinking of someone else?” 

“N-no.”  

“No?” A smirk rings in his tone. “You don’t sound too sure.” 

“Y-yes. I mean, n-no—oh fuck, r-right there!”

Your hips push back against Suguru’s hand, grinding against the long fingers that tug your panties to the side and slip into your wet hole.

He lazily works you open, each thrust concluding with his fingertips curling right into your sweet spot, coaxing soft whimpers to spill from your lips.

He pulls out once he feels you're sufficiently stretched, taking a second to admire the thin essence that dribbles down his digits before he uses it to lather up his cock, fighting back moans of his own whilst fisting himself to the lewd sight of his assistant offering herself to him.

Under different circumstances, he would've taken things slow. Under different circumstances, you’d be threading your fingers through his hair and sitting where you could comfortably watch him disappear between your thighs. You'd call out his name, and he'd lap at your juices until you're unable to hold yourself from cumming all over his face. Only then would he pepper your trembling thighs with kisses and tell you how well you did for him—what a good girl you are; his good girl.

“Doesn’t matter.” Suguru says for himself to hear, and it really doesn’t. Those ideal circumstances he dreams about are a thing of the past.

With a firm hand pressing on your back, he straightens you against the desk and runs his swollen cock head through your folds, voice laden with desire when he whispers, “Let’s see whose name you moan now, mm? ”

His thoughts hush as soon as his girth catches into the tight entrance of your cunt—a sigh gritted through his teeth as he finally sinks in.

He gives you a second to adjust, when in reality, it's him who needs the breather. All the longing and desire, the frustration and despair that'd been pooling in him for the past few weeks, culminate in this one perfect moment where your velvet walls hug his throbbing length, constricting around every inch he feeds inside you.

It's cathartic.

He remains breathing through his nose for a good while, too scared to open his mouth, lest he say something embarrassing enough to want to smack his head with the silver name plate on his desk right after. He's aware of how ridiculous it'd sound if he suddenly blurted out that he loves you, yet the warm feeling coursing through his veins can only be described as such. 

Luckily, his final choice of words ends up being far more sensible.

“S-so fucking tight—”

“For a whore?” You interrupt, your droopy head lifting from over your slumped shoulders to bestow him with yet another winsome smile. God, you’re pretty.

“Never called you a whore.” Suguru's lips crack into a smirk of their own, while his fingers knead the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks for him to see the point where you connect. A pearly ring has formed at the base of his cock from your fluids combined, his balls snugly squished between your hips. God, this is so hot.  

His gaze shifts away. If he keeps looking, he just might cum without getting to even fuck you properly.

“You didn’t? My bad. Must have been someone else.” 

"Aren't you cheeky?" A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, escalating into a loud groan as his hips pull back and jerk forward in a thrust that knocks both the wind and smugness out of you, the recoil causing your body to jiggle against the desk. "That fucking audacity of yours is what got you in this place to begin with."

You try to say something that he doesn't care to hear, muting your words with a sharp thwack across your ass. You whimper in response, clenching so hard around him that he repeats the motion on the other cheek for good measure, your pathetic whines going straight to his cock. It's scary how much he enjoys this.

"Talking about other men," Suguru begins his recital of your crimes, his hips rutting in time with the smacks inflicted on your reddening flesh. "Accepting gifts and whatnot, letting yourself be paraded around like a fucking trophy"—the hardest slap yet—"guess that really makes you a whore."

Your body doesn’t know how to react, whether to moan from the pain or cry from the pleasure, with your upper half squirming and your lower half stilled against him, taking everything he gives you without complaint.

He pounds into you like an animal, wrapping strong arms around your waist to bring you closer, his cock barely withdrawing before being slapped back inside, fucking straight into your pulsing core.

“D-don’t worry.” Suguru sounds delirious when he talks, with more and more ebony locks cascading from his disheveled bun down his face and shoulders. “We’re gonna fix that, mm? Gonna be mine from now on. Mine to kiss." His weight is held against your body as he leans forward, large frame dwarfing you as he plants his lips on your nape. “Mine to touch,” his arms squeeze even harder, “and—ngh, all mine to fuck. My. Fucking. Assistant.” He growls, punctuating every word with another thrust.

Suguru feels himself nearing his release, his balls tightening the longer your pussy grips him, until a knock on the door causes the sweat on his body to go cold and forces him to sober up.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” 

With quick reflexes, Suguru slaps a hand on your mouth, concentrating every bit of his willpower on figuring out the best course of action, all the while the knob rattles at Nanami's attempts to break into the room, complementary pangs echoing against the wood.

“I just need my coat; open up!” 

Whatever took over Suguru seems to have vanished into thin air, leaving him to fend for himself. It’s only then that the severity of the situation becomes apparent. Not only did he coerce his assistant to fuck him, but he did so at a company event where reporters from every major news agency have gathered for a chance to dig up dirt on the Gojos. If word gets out, they're all done for. Suguru, Satoru, the company—every person’s livelihood that depends on the Gojo name will go to waste.

He's hit rock bottom, drowning in self-deprecation, when your fingers curl around his hand and drag it away from your mouth, your thumb squeezing the inside of his palm in a motion that compels him to trust you.

"Manager Nanami?” Your voice sounds so worn out that it's barely recognizable, but it's good. It makes your next sentence more believable. "I'm so sorry for the holdup, but I wasn't feeling too well. Could you, um, give me five to ten more minutes? I promise to bring your coat out myself."

For what feels like an eternity, silence reigns both inside and outside the room, the two of you holding your breaths while the man on the other side of the door decides your fate.

“Fine.” Nanami finally speaks. “Please don’t take too long. I have a train to catch."

"Thank you so much!" You sigh in relief, your forehead pressing forward against the furniture.

A few moments pass before Suguru braces himself to talk, feeling too flustered to let relief wash over him just yet. "Why did you do that? Why would you—"

"Because I'm your assistant." Only half of your smile is visible from that angle, yet it somehow appears more genuine than the previous ones. "You said it yourself. An assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her. It's my duty to look after you."

Your words make Suguru come face-to-face with a realization that, for the longest time, he's conveniently ignored. You aren't equals. You never were. No matter how hard he's tried to bridge the gap between you, it's still there, paralleling the one between him and Satoru, except in both cases, the sore loser remains no one but himself.

"Now, let's hurry up." Your ass rubs impatiently against his pelvis, reminding him that his cock is still snuggled in your cunt. "We don't have much time."

Postponing soul-searching for as long as he can, Suguru picks himself up and slips a hand between your thighs, easily spotting the neglected nub that throbs above your abused pussy lips.

His thumb swipes over your clit, testing a combination of short circles and light flicks that have you seesawing back and forth between his hand and hips, soft moans of pleasure playing like music in his ears. He much prefers them to your sobs.

"F-feels so good, ahh."

"Such a good girl. Learned her lesson, hm?" He hums, lusciously massaging your insides with his cock, his pace far more forgiving.

He gets to relish everything this time. From the intimate way you hold onto his free hand while pushing back to meet his thrusts, to the stuttered Mr. Geto's that complement your pretty whimpers. He feels himself burning up, the heat from your core circuiting his own body and permeating the deepest parts of his soul. He's drunk on you, feeling more heady when inhaling your perfume than he did sipping champagne all night long.

"Mr. Geto, I'm gonna—" The rest of your sentence is cut off, sharp nails digging into his flesh while your shoulders tense up.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart?" Suguru asks, adrenaline rushing to his thick cock that insists on kissing your cervix while his fingers continuously assault the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Go ahead. My pretty assistant worked hard for it, didn't she? Proved how much she—f-fuck, she deserves her boss' dick. Cum on this dick, baby. Wanna feel you cum all over me."

"Please, Mr. Geto, pleasepleaseplease , right there, ahhh , please fuck me." Your begging has him losing his mind, the dam between his thoughts and his tongue breaking as he goes on to praise your very existence, no filter whatsoever.

"You were worth the wait. Wanted to do this since d-day one," Suguru pants out, shaking his head with a faint smile. "No, even longer than that. Been wanting you since I saw your picture, fuck—" He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Feels like I've been waiting on you forever." 

His confession overlaps with your release, your walls spasming and contracting while the rest of your body goes limp. Suguru knows he won't last much longer, his pace growing sloppier by the minute as the aftershocks of your bliss reel him in, sculpted abs clenching in sync with his heavy balls until his hips come to a complete stutter, ropes upon ropes of his creamy seedy sputtering into your warm cunt.

A string of curses is unleashed as he groans your name, and he's still shuddering when he pulls out, staring wide-eyed at the mess he made. His cum flows out of your hole in a steady stream, trickling down your thighs as if taunting him to plug it back in. He doesn't think he's ever finished this hard in his life, and yet his cock insists on twitching even in the comfort of his palm.

Mesmerized by the sight of your spent pussy squirting out your shared fluids, Suguru makes no real effort to dress himself until his eyes spot the sparse drops that have dribbled from his weeping tip to the carpet below, and panic rings in his head like an alarm.

Frantically, he scans the dimly lit room for some paper—a cloth or a towel; anything that'd help him clean up—only to be struck with disappointment. He keeps none of these items around, and while he's mostly proactive about emergencies, he doubts plowing his assistant qualifies as one.

He's off to find the light switch (not without awkwardly tripping in his pants like a penguin first) when you sneak up behind him, your outfit put back together, with a tissue hanging from your open fingers.

"Whores always clean after themselves." You smile sweetly as Suguru accepts the offering.

The dark-haired man crouches to pick up his pants after wiping his cock clean. A smirk is plastered on his face as he tucks himself back into his underwear and crumples the used paper into a ball that gets tossed in the bin beside him.

"Gonna keep holding that against me?" He asks once he's gone back to looking somewhat presentable.

"Hmm, probably until Monday." Your chuckle placates his heart, only to make it thrum against his chest a second later. "Unless...you don't mind speeding up the process."

Your eyes pierce through him, shining brighter than the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. He almost wishes the room were kept in darkness, for the sole reason that his surprise remains hidden, hope lumping in his throat.

"What are you suggesting?"

You clutch onto your jacket while pacing around the room, halting in front of the stacked bookshelves mounted on one of the four walls. Your head tilts slightly as you explore his collection of hardcovers and attempt to read the cursive characters on one of his certificates, your smile losing its vibrancy as you go back to facing him, your eyes focusing anywhere but his.

"Rather than neither of us doing anything special for the holidays," you finally speak, "how about we do nothing special for the holidays together?" You lick your lips together, cringing at the way your voice cracks over the last syllable. "Say, outside Meiji Memorial Museum around 6 p.m. tomorrow?"

Suguru catches himself holding his breath, nitpicking your words even when they leave no room for ambiguity. "Are you asking me out?"

Your head is held low as you nod. "I figured after what just happened, you might be interested."

The lump in his throat dissolves only to recur immediately after.

"What about Satoru?" He asks in a hushed tone, prepared for disappointment.

"Satoru is," a small smile creeps up, "he's the most amazing person I've ever met, and will probably meet in my entire life. But," you gnaw on your lips, briefly meeting his eyes, "I have a preference for dark-haired workaholics." He nearly disputes the color of his own hair, relying on the reflection in your eyes to confirm his identity.

"Is that how you see me?"

"That's how most people in the office see you. If you were to ask me, I'd add kind to the list. Generous. Warm. Sly," you giggle before whispering the next word, "sexy."

Heat rises to his cheeks as Suguru wordlessly gawks at you. To say he's taken aback is an understatement. Part of him feels so ecstatic that he could grow wings and fly off into the night sky, while another part wants him to fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

He's such an idiot. No, more than an idiot, he is an irredeemable bastard who deserves none of your sympathy after what he did, and yet you don't seem to blame him one bit. If anything, you gaze at him with more affection than you've ever shown to either him or Satoru, affection that obliterates any doubt.

It's him. For once, and for all, and against all odds, it's him who gets to stand under the mistletoe beside you.

"If you're gonna reject me, please do it now." You squint in the cutest way imaginable. "I don't want to ruin my make-up."

Suguru smiles, allowing himself to openly fawn over your concerned expression.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that. Might wanna," he says, vaguely gesturing at your face.

Your knuckles turn black after rubbing below your eyes. Horrified, you dig another tissue from your pocket, hurriedly scrubbing wherever you deem necessary. "Better now?"

"I'd still dash straight to the elevator if I were you." Suguru chuckles at the face you make, taking a step forward. He runs his tongue along his lips, his voice reduced to a purr when he speaks. "You're right. Don't think I can wait until Monday to see you again." The proximity between your heads begs to be nullified, and he's made up his mind. He can't afford to lose you. Not as an assistant, and certainly not as a woman. He's shameless like that.

Bringing his palm to your cheek, Suguru pulls you toward him, planting a soft peck on your lips that tastes like finally.

By the time he draws away, you're both smiling—breathless, despite the kiss lasting less than a second. His hand glides from your neck to the curve of your shoulder, caressing tenderly, while yours rises to his forehead, having mustered enough courage to tuck the the loose strands of hair behind his ear.

"I should probably go first." Your announcement prickles his heart like a thorn. Walking into this room, he'd braced himself for losing you, yet now he can't even stomach the idea of spending a minute without you. "Don't want Manager Nanami to lose his train."

Not being left with much of a choice on the matter, Suguru nods, sighing softly as he watches you grab Nanami's coat and loop it around your arm, heading for the door. Your goodbye is postponed as you turn around with a jewelry-sized box in hand, the same item you were caught fumbling with when he entered the room earlier.

"This is from Satoru." You explain. "I don't know why or what's inside, but he said I should be the one who gives it to you."

When Suguru accepts it, you smile again and bow your head. "Merry Christmas, Suguru."

On second thought, he's so happy he could die.

Suguru is tinged red from head to toe as he sends you off with the same wish, undoing the silver ribbon that holds the box together after the door closes behind you. It's too small to contain an explosive mechanism, that's for sure, but he doesn't hear much of any rattling as he shakes its contents. His confusion grows tenfold once he lifts the lid and is greeted by the folded piece of paper within.

Unfolding it, the note reads a single sentence whose meaning registers in waves that crash over him along with the memories of the past month, the truths and the lies debunked with every repetition of those seven pesky little words.

Now you know what heaven tastes like.

A/N: I know what y'all wondering, and yes. Nanami did win the competition. Oh, and Satoru totally didn't plot behind the scenes for Suguru to make the first move. totally.

Hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, since this is my first time writing for Suguru.

Disclaimer: He did nothing wrong and he remains a pookie.

Somehow.

[snghnlvr]

delicate | nishimura riki

౨ৎ ## love so delicate like yours, synopsis: you've realized how far you've gotten with your boyfriend now that both of you are adults.

includes: 1.9k words | soft fluff | yn is anxious asf but riki comforts them | we love reassurance | movie notebook reference 😎 | yn got a tattoo and it makes riki fall in love with them more 🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️ | coming of age¿?

extra: at this point, all of the members are taylor swift coded | soft love is the best love | yn is me because im also 18 and i dont wanna pay taxes D:

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

you sighed as you laid yourself flat against the blankets. you smiled in delight as if your troubles and worries left you. 

“school’s over.” you said, feeling your chest heavy. you recalled the school memories that you’ve experienced; both happy and sad, now that you’re taking the next chapter of your life; college. 

it’s leaving a bittersweet feeling on your whole body. 

“it is.” you looked over your shoulder, to see your boyfriend, riki fiddling with his yearbook. his fingers spotted towards the back of the book, heartfelt messages and inspiring words that his friends wrote for him. 

you’re in riki’s backyard, inside of a treehouse both of you built since children with the help of your parents. you’re so lucky your dad is a constructor. 

riki is sitting, one leg sticking out and one knee bent as he leans into the wooden walls. this position allows you to admire him from below as the sunlight flashes on his beautiful features. 

he’s reading every single message with sincerity and care, from his senior friends that he will probably never see again and his younger juniors that he can’t annoy anymore as he pleases. despite hating waking up early every morning and him dealing with tiring lectures, he has to admit he made memories and friends that’s worth a life time.

“i can’t believe we’re gonna be college students now. where we have to pay off debts, start our career paths, those people who are gonna be closer to 20 than 16 - it’s just,” you took in a breath. “surreal. surreal that we are growing up.”

you had always had a fear of growing up. not wanting to achieve the things and goals you’ve planned on time. you felt like you’re rushing to do everything at once before it becomes too late. you always wanna stay 16 forever; forever naive to understand the real world. how you’re closest friends will separate from you. how everything you’re experiencing right now will be just a memory. 

riki glanced down on you where you’re staring off of space. he can sense the anxiety in your tone. 

he closes the book after he was staring at a picture. a picture titled, “best couple” and it’s a picture of the both of you standing next to each other, smiling widely. he smiled at how adorable you looked next to him.

he scooted closer to you, making himself comfortable once he lays down next to you. his back lays flat, mimicking your position. 

“are you scared?” riki likes to question the obvious, but it helps you reflect on your feelings; how fear is just a feeling and to understand your emotions a bit better.

“just a little anxious just all,” you confessed, looking at riki whose eyes never left yours. “i’m sure it will disappear soon. i mean, everyone experiences this.” you reassure yourself and riki sense it, enjoying your honesty.

“mhm,” riki mumbles. “it’s okay to feel anxious, the future is scary.” he looks down. “it’s only a matter of time how you’re gonna handle it. you create your own future.” 

his words ring in your head. he’s right.

riki took your silence as a way that you agree with him. 

he then glanced down towards your arm, a black-inked drawing that attracted him. riki scooted closer, his body turned to yours. he propped himself up with his elbow.

no matter how close the proximity is between the both of you, it still makes you nervous til this day. especially with how much older and mature-looking your boyfriend of 6 years is. 

“your parents aren’t mad about this?” riki gently poked on your arm, eyes analyzing the art in your arm. it’s only been a week since you decided to get your first tattoo.

it’s beautiful, he thinks. 

“not anymore, i’m 18 now.” you huffed out. you remembered the horror on your parents’ faces but a sigh of defeat when they realized you’re now responsible of yourself. it makes you chuckle about their panicked expressions, slowly making themselves aware that you’re not gonna be their little 4 year old reckless daughter anymore. 

“i can imagine your mom shrieking.” riki giggled which made you scoffed because he wasn’t wrong. 

“your birth flower?” riki asked, his fingertips gently tracing the traces of your birth flower. 

your eyes widened a bit at his sudden touch then you looked down at how focused riki was. his eyes were staring at it as if your tattoo was a museum. 

your heart beat quickened at the sight. 

“the flower that i drew for you in your math notebook in 6th grade.” riki smiled, realizing how much time flies since you guys called it official since middle school. you’ve remembered the nervousness riki’s hands were, fiddling the bouquet of origami flowers. flowers he made for each that day that he fell in love with you. you thought it was silly. riki has always been caring and kind to you so it was natural for you to reprociate the feelings back. and so, without any pressure or doubts, you guys called it official.

“i thought you threw your old notebooks away..” his voice still remains soft and delicate, still smiling at your tattoo. he started to reminisce the times he would doodle on your notebook without you noticing. like a surprise.

“i ripped the page and kept it since.” when you were going into your freshman self, you looked back into the notebooks to reminsince your middle school memories. you’ve came across a drawing — no other than riki’s in one of your notebooks. you ripped it out and hid it in a safe spot until you get a tattoo of it ever since.  

some people thought you guys weren’t gonna make it past middle school — even you too, but since both of you got in the same highschool, it remained strong. a strong string holding your relationship tight.

yes, with hormones acting up and puberty getting in the way, there were times where you guys had fought and argued together to the point it was nearing breaking apart but both of you shouldn’t let it slide. not when it has reached this far. and how much you love each other.

although your boyfriend has grown up, there are occasionally times where he teases you and becomes childish around you, it makes you soft-hearted at how he still has a soul of his 12-year old self. especially moments where he look similar to a duck, which made you think about how much duck plushies you have on your bed because it reminds you of riki. 

you’re happy that you’re growing up with him.

“what are you thinking about pretty girl?” 

you gasped lightly, realizing that you’re spacing out. you looked at him and you see a small smirk implemented on his face, curious of what your pretty head is thinking about.

your face relaxes, trying to calm yourself. you’re nervous over nothing.

you looked down at your hands, then glance at riki’s hand comfortably resting, then back to your hands. your fingers slowly creep upon riki’s fingers, slowly rubbing them with yours. you smiled at the sight.

“it’s insane to think about how much we’ve grown.” you paused. “together.”

riki’s eyes looked at the sight, his heart beat echoing and growing louder. no matter what you do, you always make him think irrational. he then glances at you smiling when you’re playing with his fingers. “not many people believed in us lasting this long, not even me. i was worried if one of us lost feelings, found someone else better, or get something in our way, but im glad that we didn’t give up.” you looked at riki where his attention was diverted to you. he raised an eyebrow to indicate that he was listening.

“i’m happy that i’m dating you, i can’t express how much i adore you, how much you mean to me, i’ve never felt love this strong before — you’re just everything to me. i can’t imagine laughing harder than with anyone else, smile so much with anyone else. with you, it’s different. thank you for loving me.” 

you’re cringing on the inside at how much you confessed in such a short amount of time. you’re met with silence from your boyfriend who seem atonished from your words. you’re embarrassed, pulling back your fingers to cover your blushing cheeks in front of your boyfriend.

riki’s lips twitched, happy for you to express your feelings more comfortably now compared to the past situations. (one of the reasons that you’ve guys argued before) his chest felt light, his grin becoming bigger when you’re hiding from him.

you hear the blankets rustling, you felt riki’s arm slowly snake around your wrist to lightly remove your hand from your face. you removed your embarrassed hands and your eyes followed his hand clasping onto yours. the sight of his veiny hands makes you silent.

you admire the two of you holding hands. your stomach was feeling butterflies just as it was the first time riki confessed his feelings to you. riki twists your wrist, allowing you to see the sight from all angles. it looks so perfect. your hand perfectly structured to hold his. 

“you’re just as perfect as to what i am seeing right now.” riki spoke with a soft tone, chuckling when he kept twisting and turning your wrist. “you have a place in my heart no one else could ever have. my heart is so full of you i can hardly call it my own. i choose you. and i’ll choose you over and over. without a pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat, i’ll keep choosing you. as long as i’m alive, you will always be loved.”

you’re speechless at your boyfriend’s words to the point you feel like crying. riki still kept smiling at you, giggling. you saw the crescents formed in his eyes whenever he smiled at you and it never fails to make yourself love him more.

riki took this opportunity to lift himself up, hovering above you. he pecked your forehead. you felt his warm lips touching your skin and the goosebumps always forms whenever he makes you flustered.

you looked up at him, surprised. he looked down at you with his head tilted and a scrunched nose like a puppy, as if he was proud to do that.

nothing but an exchange of loud heart beats matching with one another and genuine giggles back and forth. 

riki then leaned in towards you. you closed your eyes at the expected action. his lips touching with yours. electricity flows when he rubs his fingers on your hands. it always make you feel all tingly on the inside. 

riki then pulls back, “cute.” he teases you, making your cheeks grow hotter. “shut up.” you rolled eyes, earning a little laugh from him.

riki still doesn’t let go of your intertwined hands as he returns to his original position where you’re laying flat on the ground, shoulder to shoulder. 

“so your summer plans?” riki asked casually. he lifted his head as his arm was under his head to act as support.

you then touched your bangs, realizing that you still have that caramel-like highlights since march. you were starting to get bored of it.

you pursed your lips. “maybe dye my hair next week back to black.” 

riki’s eyes shined. “match with me.” he spoke without thinking. you turned your head to him, realizing that his hair is black now. 

your boyfriend likes it alot when both of you match. 

“if you bleach it next month to some color then what?” you pointed out because sometimes your boyfriend makes impulsive decisions on his hair whenever he sees a cool hairstyles. you’re not angry whenever he does this because he’s good looking with whatever hair color he has.

“i won’t bleach it, i promise. i’ll follow you.” riki spoke and it makes you chuckle that he probably doesn’t realize the importance of his words. “red? blue? silver, i’ll do it for you.” you froze at his sudden deep voice erupting from him. your heart beat also freezes when his lips touches the location of your tattoo. you looked down and see his lips pushed forward. your heart flutters once again.

“you’re dumb.” you spoke, eyes softening at what you were hearing. 

gosh, you really love this man.

riki smiles against your skin, looking up and your heart twists at an umfamiliar sight. “i can be that.” he whispers like it was a promise.

[gguk-n]

Harmonies on the fast lane (Carlos Sainz x kpop artist!Reader SMAU)

Face claim- Bibi (A K-Pop Artist) Stage name is Aria

Google translated korean and spanish. All the pictures are from pinterest or instagram

ariascorner

Liked by dlwlrma, kimsmell1, and 256,976 other

ariascorner 저는 F1과 카트를 좋아해요. I love F1 and karting Newest hyperfixation!! Also you should go karting with your bestie

user1 누나 너무 예뻐 💓💓unnie is so pretty user 2 can't believe unnie is also f1 girlie❤️💓 user 3 사랑해💓 I love you user 4 누나가 최고야!! 사랑해 💓❤️Noona is so pretty, love you

ariascorner

Liked by _happiness_o, m_kayoung and 467,892 other

ariascorner 지금까지 최고의 해. 올해가 얼마나 꽉 찼는지 믿을 수가 없어. 그리고 나는 내 매진된 쇼에서 너희들 앞에서 공연해야 했어. 정말 고마워. 나는 계속해서 더 열심히 일하고 너희 모두를 자랑스럽게 만들 거야. 날 사랑해줘서 고마워. 사랑해!! The best year so far. Can't believe what a jam packed year this was and I got to perform in front of you guys at so many of my own sold out shows. I am so grateful to you. I will continue to work harder and make you all proud. Thank you for loving me. I love you!!😭😭💓💓😘😘

user 5 네가 사는 걸 봤어, 넌 정말 좋아. 😭😭I saw you live, you are so good user 6 I'm the girl she kissed in the second last picture. best day ever🙈🫣 user 7 천사의 목소리 Angelic voice 💓💓 user 8 Please come to my country soon 😭😭

ariatics

Liked by 5479 others

ariatics It's that time of the year and dispatch has released their rumoured relationships this year. *drumroll* It's Aria unnie this time and we can't see the guy's face at all. But who ever it is I'm so happy for them!!

user 1 eww, how can she do this to us??🤬🤬 user 2 she'll never succeed if she doesn't work hard and only hang out with guys🤢🤢 user 3 how is her company letting her do this? user 4 I hope they break up asap so that unnie can go back to making music 🤧🤧

ariatics

Liked by 6479 other

ariatics Dispatch posted a picture of Aria unnie at Incheon airport. Apparently she has personal business she needs to attend to.

user 5 I hope she gets her shit together soon. user 6 how can she look so pretty even without make up 😭😭 user 7 bet she is going on a trip with her boyfriend😪😪 user 8 she just finished her rookie years and is already acting like a senior 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

carlosainz55

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,754,862 others

carlossainz55 Some rest and relaxation before starting pre-season training

landonorris ooo, it's your girlfriend. Did she teach you how to soft launch?🫣🫣 charles_leclerc can't wait to see you at the race in a couple of weeks🤝👍 user 1 we lost him girls, he's taken😭😭😔 user 2 2 shirtless Carlos pictures in one post🥵 user 3 good luck Carlos, know you can do it!!👊 user 4 can't wait to see you in Bahrain☺️ user 5 who do you think the mystery girl is??🤔

sainsgirlie

Liked by 45,879 others tagged carlossainz55 and ariascorner

sainzgirlie Carlos back at the paddock after his appendix removal surgery in Jeddah. He will not be driving this week but it seems that his girlfriend has tagged along to take care of him. From what people have seen, they say Y/N Y/L/N also known as Aria, a k-pop artist keeps fretting over him. Both of them were seen exchanging a couple kisses confirming the pair is indeed dating.

user 6 unnie has gone mainstream😱😱 user 7 Get well soon Carlos!!😔❤️ user 8 Atleast someone is taking care of him😭 user 1 can't believe my eyes. Y/N unnie and Carlos oppa 🤧🤧

carlossainz55

Liked by carlossainzofficial, ariascorner, landonorris and 4,678,986 other tagged ariascorner

carlossainz55 So grateful to be able to share my life with the prettiest, kindest and most important woman in my life. I've become a better person because of her. Thank you for always being there for me, in my good and bad time. I love you carino!! 사랑해 자기야 I love you baby

landonorris congratulations mate!! I don't have to keep my mouth shut anymore ariascorner landonorris not like you actually did charles_leclerc both of you look so cute. Alex wants to know if we can get tickets? ariasworld charles_leclerc Alex can have all the tickets!! user 2 aww!! they are so cute!! I've never seen Y/N so in love!! user 3 그녀는 국가의 공주일 뿐만 아니라 그의 공주이기도 하다. She isn’t only the nation’s princess but his princess too user 4 two of the prettiest people dating🥰🥰 user 5 Carlos is in love ngl I would be too if I was dating Y/N😍😍 ariascorner ¡Gracias por quererme! Te quiero, mi príncipe 💓💓😘😘 Thank you for loving me! I love you my prince Liked by Author

ariascorner

Liked by genyouthent, carlossainz55, dlwrlma and 3,879,975 other tagged carlossainz55

ariascorner So blessed to be able to call you mine. I'm gonna proudly show you off!! Thank you for believing in me and supporting me!! You are the best thing that has ever happened to me!! I love you baby!! Te quiero más que a las estrellas del cielo I love you more than the stars in the sky

user 6 그가 널 행복하게 해주길 바라 😭😭💓I hope he keeps you happy user 7 I get the best of both worlds. My mom and dad are actually dating!!!😘😘 user 8 So happy for you Y/N!! I hope you are always happy🎉🎉 user 1 she said fuck kpop standards, I love my man😱😱 user 2 we love supportive couples😍😍 user 3 can’t wait to see you at races and Carlos at inkigayo 🤣🤣 carlossainz55 넌 내 인생의 사랑이야. ❤️❤️ you are the love of my life Liked by Author

Hope you enjoy!! I had fun making this!!

[inesbaby21]

okay i have 2 requests. could you do a fic or headcanons about kk and genos daughter who is on uconn’s dance team? and then could you do a fic or headcanons about inês and reader like how they met, cute fluffy moments, and then when she transfers how the relationship is?

Ofc, im going to do the KK one first and then the Ines one will come out later today!

SECRET LOVE SONG, PART I (its going to be a series)

1st Person P.O.V

I sat in the stands with a few girls on the dance team, watching the girls practice. I never really clicked with basketball like my dad had hoped, but once he saw how good at dance I was and how determined to be the best he began to support me unconditionally!

"Hey Y/n, what's it like having Geno as a dad" one of the girls asked, it was a question I got probably a million times but my answer remains the same.

"Just like having any other dad, he's caring, he's respectful, and had always put me first" I said eyes focused on the court. The girls were doing defensive drills, and from looking at the score the once winning team had lost, causing them to do baselines.

The girls continued to talk until I heard my name called from the court, "Y/N M/N AURIEMMA" I hear my father call.

"And that's my call ladies" put your practice uniforms and shoes on" I giggled "Hustle, Hustle" I said skipping down the stairs looking for where exactly my pa was located.

" You look gorgeous today Y/N" he said, probably to butter me up before asking a ridiculous favor from me. "So, our photographer called out again, something about her baby being sick" he said keeping eye contact with me throwing down hints I slowly began to pick up on. "So, what i'm getting from this conversation, is you want me to go back to my dorm- get my camera's, set up and take pictures of the your girls?" I said with my eyebrow raised

"If you wouldn't mind, I know you have dance things to do with your team today but we really need pictures for the media honey" he said rubbing my shoulder, and with that, I had one of the older girls go back to the dorms to get my 3 cameras and set up.

After I was done setting up I sat in the nearest chair, and began to watch. A few minutes later, my dad rounded up all of the girls (including me) after a short water break. "Girl's as you know, Jane can't be here for todays practice, and I had to find a replacement Y/N will be taking pictures for the media today" He said with his arm around his shoulder hugging me a little. "Hi, I'm Y/N" I said as one of the seniors on the dance team called for me

"Y/N/N where are youuuu" she dragged out the embarrassing nickname, causing me to lunge for her!

"Seiana" I huffed I'm in the middle of something i said as I looked back to my father who I could see (from the corner of my eye) laughing his ass off from my immediate reaction to shut the 5'11 girl up.

"SeiSei, will you make sure the girls are behaving, and SITTING court-side" I said giving her a look that told her all. "Duh, why wouldn't I" Seiana said rolling her eyes, and as more girls walked in she began to "relay" the message that "Y/N/N has daddy duties, so sit quite and let her sort this out and then we can practice"

I found myself walking back over to the group, ultimately finding a (not my original) spot next to a brown skinned girl. "So now that Y/N/N is back, we can continue ladies- any questions" my dad asked as a girl began to connect the dots. "So you're Y/N, like Y/N Auriemma" a girl who's presence would soon become something surreal in my life asked.

"That's me, the one and only" I said giggling "Alright, Alright ladies let's get back to work" my dad said as they broke off and got back to their spots.

I sat court-side with some other freshman on the dance team, snapping a few pictures of us and then a few of the girls.

A girl, which i now knew as KK ran up beside me reaching over me to get her water bottle, eventually taking a seat next to me. "Hey" she said sitting the now half empty water bottle down. "Hi, you guys are really good at basketball ball" I said like an idiot. cmon of course they're good Y/N you saw most of them play in high school when your dad went scouting my conscious said. "Your dad's a good coach" she replied catching her breath, and tearing her eyes away from the drills the girls began to run once again. "He is great at what he does" i giggled, and began to tell her all about my childhood and all of the now wnba stars I got to grow up around. " He seems like a good dad" KK said keeping contact with me.

I realize the more we began to talk, the closer kk got to me and eventually her shoulder began to bump against mines as we chatted some more. " Ouuuu Y/N/N! okay we see you girl" Sevyn (Seiana's) ridiculously loud girlfriend as as she walked in with more of the dance teams equipment. "Oh my goodness Sevyn, do NOT start with me right now". I said turning to face Seiana, and her overgrown child of a girlfriend with the meanest stank face I could conjure at the moment. Kk began to laugh and push me a little, laughing even harder- the commotion brought attention to my dad who finally (unfortunately) realized that Kk was on a much longer break than needed.

"K-KK, KK GOD GET OVER HERE" my father yelled and that was her cue to get back up, and into her spot before he started a 6 hr lecture.

A/N - this seemed kinda long/kinda ish well written (i spent maybe 25/35 mins on it so.) ITS NOT PROOF READ. and IT IS THE FIRST PART. GIVE ME SOME CANON EVENTS TO ADD/SOME MORE PLOT GUYS 😞

A/N pt. 2 - i almost only see white ocs/y/ns for kk so that's most definitely changing with this series. And tbh you guys could see Y/N as adopted (i do for like not ruining Geno's happy marriage irl) OR you could see her as his bio daughter.

A/N pt.3- I also see Y/n as black for this series( and all of my future series fym), not only that but she is a freshman in college too i didn't want to give her a crazy age gap from KK.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Call Up II

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of the Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Zećira and Frido's reactions

You sit out the front of Millie's house, staring down at your phone.

Zećira's smiling contact picture looks back at you. Your finger hovers over the call button. You're not too sure how to start this off. You can see Morsa pacing up and down the road, as she talks to moster Frido and you look back down at Zećira's picture.

"Hey," She says when the call is picked up," What's up? You never call."

You laugh a little awkwardly. "I..er..." You definitely didn't think this far ahead. "I actually have some news."

You can practically hear Zećira's eye roll. "Don't tell me your mothers are doing something stupid again. I can only take so much of Magda falling out of trees."

"It's about me, actually."

You could hear the moment Zećira went serious. There's some rustling on her side of the phone as she moves about.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," You say, biting at your lip," I was just wondering if you want to come watch me play."

"For Arsenal? Sorry, y/n, I know the derby is tomorrow but I'm busy until lunch. I won't be able to make it."

"No," You say," During the international break."

"Oh, then yeah, I'm free. So long as you get Pernille to send me directions. I'm telling you the roads in Denmark aren't natural. They-"

"In Sweden, actually," You cut her off," With the senior team."

There's silence for a moment and then an odd little squeaking sound.

"For our senior team? For Sweden?"

"Yeah, for Sweden."

Silence again.

"You got called up?! When?!"

"A few minutes ago," You reply," There's three friendlies. One for each keeper so I'm actually going to get game time."

"Are you serious?"

"Would I lie?"

"You sort me out with tickets, do you hear me? And...And...You're going to be wearing a Sweden shirt?"

"No more wearing yours," You laugh.

"When do you go back home? After the derby? I'll send you something. I don't know what but I'll send you something, okay? Have you told Frido yet?"

"Morsa's calling her now."

"Okay...okay..." She takes several deep breaths. "Video call me tonight so I can sort everything out, alright? God, I'm so proud of you."

You had just dropped the call when Morsa comes hurrying over. She shoves her phone into your ear.

"Congratulations!"

"Thanks, moster."

"I called it," Moster Frido boasts," I said to your mothers that we'd see you in a Sweden jersey one day. I love being right."

You laugh a little bit in disbelief. "You can't have known."

"I did," Frido insists," Although, I did assume it would be as a forward."

You roll your eyes. "But you're fine with it being as a keeper?"

"Well," Frido says with a laugh," So long as when your kids are named Frido, we have enough to fill all positions, I'm happy with you as a keeper."

You huff in amusement. "Bold of you to assume they'd be named after you."

"Bold of you to assume that I won't be front row watching you next month."

You perk up. "You're coming?"

"You think I'd miss your first game on the senior team?" Frido asks back," I don't know if they'll be selling your shirts yet. I'll have to DIY my own."

Your cheeks go a little red at that. You hadn't thought about people selling your shirt. They didn't sell shirts at the youth level. It had never really crossed your mind.

But you also knew what moster Frido was like. You knew how embarrassing she was.

"Please don't."

"I will," She promises," Just you wait."

Momma pops her head out the door. "Millie said dinner's ready."

"I have to go," You say to Frido," I've got a match tomorrow. I need to eat."

"Alright," Frido says," I'll see you soon, alright? Front row."

"Front row," You confirm," Love you, moster Frido."

"Love you too, little monster."