#I swear the way I yelled this at the screen

[solxamber]

Idia cater and octanivelle (seperate) with a reader s/o who gets cuteness aggression towards their boyfriend, dragging him to privacy if they arent already in it so they can smother to boy with kisses and then just leaving them be like they just did the most normal thing, leaving the characters to react in their own ways perhaps please?

Cuteness Agression with: Idia, Cater, Octatrio

a/n: i loved the ask omg i was giggling the entire time i was writing it. sorry for the really long wait and i hope you like it

Idia Shroud

Idia had never considered himself cute. If anything, he was the exact opposite of what someone might find remotely attractive—awkward, perpetually hunched over, and most likely to combust if too many people looked at him at once. But then, there was you.

You, with your sunshine-like enthusiasm and boundless energy, who had the audacity to look at him—his mess of blue flames, oversized hoodie, and permanently slouched posture—and declare him the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

At first, he thought it was a joke. Surely, you couldn’t be serious. But as time passed, it became glaringly obvious: you were dead serious.

It started on a quiet afternoon. You’d found Idia tucked away in his room as usual, gaming with a focus so intense he didn’t even notice you entering. His lips were pressed into a slight pout, his brows furrowed, and his hair glowed faintly with concentration.

And that was it. Something in your brain snapped.

You didn’t even say anything, just marched over, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him out of his chair.

“H-Hey! What are you—?!” Idia stammered, flailing as you dragged him out of the room and down the hall. “I’m in the middle of a raid! I can’t just leave! My party’s gonna—”

You shoved open the door to an empty lounge, ignoring his protests, and pushed him onto the couch. Before he could even process what was happening, you pounced.

“You’re so cute, I can’t stand it!” you half-yelled, squishing his cheeks in your hands and pressing a flurry of kisses all over his face.

Idia froze. His brain blue-screened. “Wh-What—?!”

“Nope, no talking,” you said, absolutely drunk on how adorable he looked when he was flustered. You kissed him again, your hands cradling his face like he was some precious, fragile thing. “You’re so cute, it’s criminal! I’m putting you under arrest.”

“Th-That’s not—! Y-You can’t just—!” Idia’s protests were muffled by your relentless affection. His flames sparked and flickered wildly, betraying just how utterly overwhelmed he was.

After several long moments, you finally relented, leaning back to admire your work. Idia’s face was a brilliant shade of red, his hair practically sparking like fireworks. He looked dazed, his wide golden eyes staring at you like you’d just dropped from the sky.

“See? Absolutely adorable,” you said smugly, crossing your arms like you’d just won some grand debate.

Idia sputtered, burying his face in his hands. “Y-You can’t just ambush me like that! W-What if someone saw?!”

You grinned, leaning forward to gently pull his hands away from his face. “No one saw, and even if they did, so what? You’re my boyfriend, and I reserve the right to smother you in kisses whenever I feel like it.”

Idia groaned, though there was no real heat behind it. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day, I swear...”

“Worth it,” you teased, poking his cheek playfully.

From that day on, Idia learned to recognize the look.

Whenever your eyes lit up with that dangerous mix of adoration and mischief, he knew what was coming.

“Wait, wait, wait—” he’d say, hands raised as if to fend you off. “Let’s talk about this! Let’s be rational—!”

But it was always too late.

No matter where you were—whether in the library, the cafeteria, or even in the middle of a gaming session—you’d drag him off to a secluded spot, showering him with affection until he was a stuttering, blushing mess.

And the worst part? He couldn’t even be mad about it.

Because, deep down, a part of him liked it.

Liked how unapologetically you loved him. Liked how your touch, your laughter, your relentless affection made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he was worth all the trouble.

Even if it left him blushing for hours afterward.

Cater Diamond

Cater Diamond loved attention. Loved being in the spotlight, basking in the glow of likes, comments, and shares. What he didn’t anticipate was being the target of your unique brand of attention—a combination of relentless affection and an overwhelming urge to smother him every time you deemed him too cute to function.

Which, as it turned out, was all the time.

It started with something simple: Cater had been showing you his latest MagiCam post. He was talking animatedly about angles, filters, and hashtags, and his grin was so radiant, his enthusiasm so infectious, that your brain short-circuited.

“Cute,” you muttered under your breath. But then you looked at him again—the sparkle in his green eyes, the playful way he stuck out his tongue as he scrolled through his phone—and it hit you like a freight train.

“You’re so cute, I can’t handle it!” you practically yelled, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him out of the classroom before he could protest.

Cater stumbled after you, his phone clattering to the floor. “Whoa, whoa! What’s the rush? Did I—?”

You didn’t let him finish. The moment you found an empty hallway, you spun around, cupped his cheeks, and peppered his face with kisses. “Why are you so cute all the time? It’s illegal. Illegal, Cater.”

His cheeks flushed pink as he let out a surprised laugh. “Uh… I didn’t know being adorable was a crime? Should I call the guards?”

“Yes,” you huffed dramatically. “Call them. Tell them I’m guilty of having too much cuteness aggression, and you’re the victim.”

Cater blinked, momentarily stunned into silence, and then broke into a grin so wide it could’ve lit up the entire school. “Wow, you’re like my personal hype squad! This is the best day ever.”

From that day forward, Cater learned to recognize the warning signs.

Whenever you got that look—the one where your eyes sparkled and your hands fidgeted like you were holding yourself back—he knew he was in for it.

“Let’s chill for a second,” he’d say, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We’re in public! Don’t you wanna save this for, I dunno, somewhere private?”

You’d smile sweetly. Too sweetly. “Nope.”

And before he could escape, you’d grab him and whisk him away to some hidden corner of the school.

“Seriously, what did I even do this time?” Cater would ask, though his laughter betrayed any attempt at indignation.

“You exist, Cater,” you’d reply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And you’re cute, and I can’t stand it, so hold still.”

Cue more kisses, and more of Cater melting into a giggling mess under your relentless affection.

One afternoon, you found him lounging on the couch in the Heartslabyul lounge, scrolling through his MagiCam feed. He’d tossed on one of his oversized sweaters, and his hair was slightly mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed.

It was too much. Your self-control snapped like a twig.

“Okay, that’s it,” you said, marching over.

Cater looked up just in time to see you barreling toward him. “Oh no, not again—! Babe, wait! Let me post first—!”

You tackled him onto the couch, smothering him in kisses as he laughed and squirmed beneath you. “You’re insane!”

“And you’re adorable!” you shot back, holding his face like it was the most precious thing in the world. “It’s a problem.”

Cater gave up resisting, his arms wrapping around your waist as he laughed breathlessly. “Well, I guess there are worse problems to have than being attacked by my cute, affectionate partner”

You kissed the tip of his nose, grinning down at him. “That’s right. You should feel honored.”

“Totally,” Cater said with a wink, though the flush in his cheeks and the soft look in his eyes betrayed how much he really meant it.

Cater might have been used to playing roles, putting on masks to charm the world, but with you, there were no masks. No filters. Just him, basking in your unfiltered love, and loving every second of it. Even if it meant being smothered in kisses every time you found him too cute to handle.

Which, to your credit, was all the time.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul Ashengrotto prided himself on being composed, professional, and, above all, respectable. He was a businessman, a contract wizard, a man of strategy. What he absolutely wasn't prepared for was how you, his beloved, had a penchant for completely derailing his carefully curated image with something as ridiculous as cuteness aggression.

And by the Sea Witch, you were relentless.

It started one evening in the Mostro Lounge. Azul had been reviewing paperwork behind the bar, his brow furrowed in concentration, glasses perched delicately on his nose. His pen moved with precise efficiency, the soft scratch of ink on parchment the only sound as he reviewed the latest inventory reports.

You were supposed to be helping, but instead, you found yourself distracted. Watching the way his fingers tapped lightly on the countertop, how his silver hair gleamed under the soft lounge lighting, and the faint pout of his lips as he puzzled over a tricky calculation… it was too much. The man was criminally adorable.

“Azul,” you said suddenly, voice tinged with barely suppressed glee.

He hummed, not looking up. “Yes, my dear?”

You didn’t reply, instead marching over to him with a determined look.

Azul glanced up just in time to see you close the distance between you, a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “W-Wait, what are you—?”

Before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed his wrist, tugging him out of his chair with surprising strength.

“Hey!” he yelped, stumbling after you. “I’m working! The reports—!”

“Can wait,” you interrupted firmly, dragging him into one of the private booths.

“Honestly, what has gotten into—”

His protests were cut off as you shoved him onto the cushioned seat and cupped his face in your hands, your eyes sparkling with adoration.

“You’re so cute,” you said, and the way your voice wavered with sheer affection sent Azul’s heart racing.

“I—what?” he sputtered, his composure crumbling.

“You’re so cute,” you repeated, practically vibrating with energy. “I can’t stand it. I have to kiss you. Right now.”

Azul’s face turned a brilliant shade of red, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. “T-That’s hardly appropriate—!”

You didn’t let him finish, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then his lips.

Azul went completely still, his brain scrambling to process what was happening. His carefully constructed persona, the one he worked so hard to maintain, was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was just a blushing, flustered mess, completely at your mercy.

When you finally pulled back, his wide-eyed expression made you giggle. “There. Much better,” you said, sitting back with a satisfied smile.

Azul blinked at you, utterly speechless. He adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers, trying—and failing—to regain some semblance of dignity. “Y-You can’t just… do that!”

“Sure I can,” you replied, unrepentant. “You’re my boyfriend. It’s in the job description.”

Azul opened his mouth to argue but faltered when he saw the way you were smiling at him—like he was the most precious thing in the world. His heart stuttered, and he looked away, flustered beyond belief.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind his words.

“And you love it,” you teased, leaning in to steal another kiss.

From that moment on, Azul realized he had to be on high alert.

You had a habit of striking at the most unexpected times. Whether he was mid-negotiation, organizing the lounge staff, or simply trying to enjoy a quiet cup of tea, you always found a way to pull him aside and smother him with affection.

“We’re in public,” he’d hiss, his face bright red as you kissed his knuckles in the middle of the lounge. “What will the customers think?”

“They’ll think I’m the luckiest person in the world,” you replied with a grin, completely unfazed.

“You’re impossible,” Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands.

But despite his protests, there was a small, secret part of him that loved it. Loved the way you looked at him with stars in your eyes. Loved the way you laughed when he got flustered. Loved the way you made him feel like he was more than just a businessman, more than just the awkward, insecure octo-mer he used to be.

He would never admit it aloud, of course—his pride wouldn’t allow it. But the next time you grabbed his hand and dragged him away with that mischievous glint in your eye, Azul didn’t resist nearly as much as he claimed he would.

Because, really, who was he to deny you?

Jade Leech

Jade Leech was many things—elegant, composed, a touch unnerving when the moment called for it—but "cute" wasn’t exactly the first adjective that came to mind for most. For you, however, the sight of him was downright devastating.

The poised way he carried himself, the sly curve of his lips when he smiled, the faint glint of mischief in his mismatched eyes—it was all so unbearably adorable that it practically short-circuited your brain.

And it wasn’t like you could keep it to yourself. No, you had to act on it. Every time.

The first time it happened, you were sitting in the Mostro Lounge, watching Jade work. He moved with his usual grace, balancing trays, speaking softly to patrons, and wearing that infuriatingly charming smile that made your heart race.

“Are you alright?” His smooth voice cut through your daze. He was standing right in front of you now, head tilted ever so slightly, curiosity evident on his face.

You blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “Uh… yeah! Just… appreciating you.”

Jade’s smile widened. “How flattering. And what, pray tell, have I done to earn such attention?”

Oh, no. He was being cute and smug about it. That did it. You couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing his wrist, you tugged him behind the lounge counter, away from the prying eyes of the customers. “Jade, I can’t—I need to—just stay still!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but also intrigued. “Stay still for what, exactly?”

You didn’t answer, too busy cupping his face and pressing kisses all over it. His forehead, his cheeks, his nose—every inch of him was a target.

“Oh...” His voice trailed off, his usual composed demeanor slipping as he blinked down at you, utterly flabbergasted. “What… are you doing?”

“Kissing you, obviously,” you mumbled between smooches, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jade chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips as you kissed his jawline. “I see that. But why the sudden… enthusiasm?”

“Because you’re too cute,” you declared, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “And if I don’t do this, I’ll explode. It’s science.”

Jade’s smile shifted into something softer, warmer. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, simply studying your flushed, determined face. Then, with a low hum of approval, he gently wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of scientific necessity,” he teased, leaning in to steal a kiss of his own.

From that point on, your "cuteness attacks" became a regular occurrence.

Whether he was reorganizing the terrarium in the Mostro Lounge, brewing potions in the lab, or simply enjoying a quiet moment with tea, you always found a way to interrupt him with your overwhelming affection.

“Dear,” he said one evening, as you practically tackled him onto the couch in the lounge’s VIP room. “You know I had work to finish, yes?”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, pinning him beneath you as you kissed his nose.

“And you’re aware this is highly disruptive?”

“Yup,” you said, grinning as you kissed the corner of his lips.

Jade sighed, but the way his arms came up to wrap around you betrayed his true feelings. “You are incorrigible,” he murmured, his voice fond.

“Thank you,” you replied cheerfully, planting one final kiss on his forehead before letting him sit up.

But Jade wasn’t one to let you have all the fun.

One afternoon, after dragging him away from his duties yet again to smother him with kisses, you found yourself suddenly spun around and pinned gently against the wall.

“Now, now,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in close. “It seems only fair that I get a turn, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your breath hitched as his mismatched eyes glinted with amusement, and before you could respond, he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. Then your cheek. Then your jaw.

“J-Jade!” you stammered, your face heating up.

“Yes, my dear?” he replied, entirely too smug as he trailed his lips to the corner of your mouth.

“This—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!”

He chuckled, finally pulling back to look at you. “Oh? And how is it supposed to go?”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “I’m supposed to be the one attacking you with affection, not the other way around!”

Jade smiled, a rare, genuine expression that made your heart skip a beat. “I suppose turnabout is fair play, wouldn’t you say?”

And as he leaned in to kiss you again, you decided that, yeah, maybe it was.

Floyd Leech

Being in a relationship with Floyd Leech meant two things: chaos and spontaneity. But what Floyd didn’t expect was the level of cuteness aggression you’d unleash on him daily.

It started innocently enough. Floyd would flash you one of his sharp-toothed grins, or he’d laugh that unhinged laugh of his, and you’d feel your entire brain short-circuit.

His mismatched eyes, the way his hair fell over his face, the effortless energy he carried—it all combined into something so painfully adorable that you couldn’t handle it.

And you didn’t.

The first incident occurred in the Mostro Lounge during a busy shift. Floyd was juggling three trays like a circus act, laughing at a poor customer’s flustered expression. You were seated at the counter, watching him, and suddenly, it hit you.

“Shrimpyyy! What’re ya staring at?” Floyd called, his grin only widening as he caught you watching him.

Bad move. That grin. That grin was your undoing.

You slammed a tip down on the counter and marched straight up to him. “Floyd. Put the trays down.”

“Huh? But—”

“Put them down,” you said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him behind the counter before he could even think to protest.

“Oi, Shrimpy, what’s the deal?!”

“You. Are. Too. Cute!” you hissed, before cupping his face and attacking him with kisses.

“Wha—hey!” Floyd’s laughter echoed through the empty kitchen as you smothered his cheeks, nose, and forehead with kisses. “You’re so weird! I love it!”

By the time you were done, Floyd’s face was flushed (a rare sight), and his laughter had turned soft, almost shy.

“Shrimpy,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re lucky I like ya so much. Otherwise, I’d squeeze ya for embarrassin’ me like this.”

You grinned, pulling him in for one last peck on the lips. “You love it.”

“…Yeah, I do,” he admitted, the grin returning full force.

This became a regular thing. Anytime Floyd did something that struck you as particularly adorable—whether it was his lazy, stretched-out posture during naps, the way his lips pouted when he was annoyed, or even the way he lit up like a kid when he got his favorite snacks—you’d pounce.

“Shrimpy, you’re at it again!” he’d laugh, squirming in your arms as you peppered kisses all over his face. “What’s the big idea, huh?”

“You’re too cute. I can’t stand it,” you’d reply every time, as if that explained everything.

And for Floyd, it kind of did.

One particularly memorable incident happened during a basketball game. Floyd was on fire, scoring point after point while practically dancing across the court. His energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else in the stands.

When the game ended and his team won, Floyd looked up at you, his grin wide, sweat dripping down his face, and he yelled, “Did ya see that, Shrimpy?! I’m the MVP!”

That was it. That was the moment. You didn’t even wait for him to come to you. You climbed down from the bleachers, sprinted across the court, and tackled him in a hug.

“Shrimpy! What’re ya—”

“You’re so cute when you’re excited!” you exclaimed, kissing his sweaty cheek.

The entire gym went silent as everyone stared, but Floyd? Floyd cackled so loudly that it echoed off the walls.

“Ha! You’re unbelievable, Shrimpy,” he said, hugging you back tightly. “But I like that about ya. Keep it comin’!”

It wasn’t just in public, either. Even in quiet moments, Floyd basked in your affection.

One night, as the two of you lounged on the couch in your dorm, Floyd rested his head on your lap, dozing lightly. His peaceful expression, the way his lashes rested against his cheek, the soft rise and fall of his chest—it was too much.

“Floyd,” you whispered, nudging him gently.

He opened one eye, looking up at you. “Hmm? What’s up, Shrimpy?”

“You’re adorable,” you said simply, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

He chuckled, shifting to wrap his arms around your waist. “Man, you’re obsessed with me, huh?”

“Yep. Totally obsessed.”

“Good,” he said, pulling you down so you were lying on top of him. “’Cause I’m obsessed with ya too.”

Floyd might have been unpredictable and chaotic, but there was one constant in his life: you, and the relentless affection you showered him with.

And if anyone dared to comment on it, Floyd would just grin, throw an arm around you, and say, “What? Shrimpy can’t help themselves. I’m irresistible, duh!”

Masterlist

[spectrumgarden]

it feels like everywhere often im trying to grab onto something and shake it tobreak the barrier between me and others, shake it loose and watch it crumble, hit the glass wall between me nd the world until it breaks. i try it with words but often the more sincere i am, people think i joke. if they understand im sincere, they still often dont understand me, the saame way i dont understand them.

they dont understand my life and often its like "getting to know me" is people understand my interests and then just engage with me through them & i like when they do because it makes sense in some way but it feels like they still dont know me, but i also dont know me.

little bits and pieces.

walk in the waiting room and theres no two spots next to each other and my mother asks in which of the two seperate ones i wanna sit and i freeze, i dont move, i cant, i sit next to her, i dont have strangers on both sides. i sway on my feet. a woman gets up next to one of the empty seats, goes to the other across the room, says here u go, u can sit next to each other. smiles at my mother. i think i know the smile. the smile says here, i hope i make the day a bit easier, its hard with a disabled child. i end up pacing up and down the waiting room 10 minutes later anyways. i hate waiting rooms. they say 5 and its never five and i know its never five but then its past five and i want to jump and run and hide, they said its five.

"does he tolerate treatment?" i rock in the dentist chair. i want to scream but i cant. i want to leave but i try hard so i rock harder. we get food at the bakery downstairs. i only like one thing. i wish i liked more. maybe i like more, but not here, not now, my head says no, only this, only this, only this. my mother asks why i act worse than other doctors visits recently. "all new" cold screen on my fingertips.

all walls are white and all hallways are long and all rooms are square in some way and all doors are the same. now theres stickers on the floor of the workshop. one color bathroom, one color lunch room, one color quiet room. there is paintings and there is a glass door and there is things but all i know is they are there when i see them. sometimes my feet just take me to the right place, and im happy. i figured out how the two doors lead to the same place.

its loud. i get up and walk. i want a place to hide. sit between the cars. plastic creaks. i dont want to get yelled at for breaking. i get up and walk. "please go back" inside head. walk more. legs hurt. sit under a bridge. now its safe. im far away. alone. im happy there was the bridge. under it is good. i nearly went above, full of cars. im happy my body went below. because my body doesnt listen. the sun is bright and the air is cold and my hands freeze. i walk "back" but i dont know where that is. a carer rides up to me on his bike "did you get lost?" i take a step back. /punished. yelled at. send home, parents yell. / but he smiles and backs away. people are nice now, here. i tell him my body just walks, and he nods.

my sister gifts me a plushie. i hug it all morning. my sister always gifts me toys. i like them. she smiles and says "i know you!" and i wonder is plushies and lego who i am? Who am i?

thick plastic covered things the way of medical therapy space. praise for my hands work. sometimes im a good kid, when im better than the others. when they shake and my lines are clean. when they jump and i sit still.

i bite my hands but i dont bleed and they say nothing. my mother looks at the marks later. "did you bite again?" i dont understand why she asks. she can see it.

three or four carers. maybe 8 other teens and adults. down syndrome and ID and autism and others. i wander off and sit under the stairs and hit my head. "dont you want to look at this museum with us? Yes? come with me. stand up. grab your bag. come with me" i swear it sounds sweet to me when she says it. ("hey, are you gonna keep an eye on him in the exhibition?)

words are thrown away or maybe stored in a place i forget about them.

my friends often giggle when i hold my glass with both hands. "its cute, like a kid". i feel shaky. i try hard not to spill. i wonder do they understand what they say.

[tojiscrack]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑

summary: 16.1k words — you find out who your new tutor is and set up a tutoring session with them. but there are certain people around you who don’t seem particularly pleased with your new company.

notes: yes, i am in the process of changing the theme for liar, liar. the previous chapters still have the red filter/colour (‘cause i’m lazy lmao) but will be changed soon! :) edit: all of it has been changed now! anyway, i have a feeling you guys won’t like this chapter much… for specific reasons, but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

tw: swearing, mentions of death, imaginary funerals, kidnapping, and starvation

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

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"yuji, you're giving us nothing to work on," said nobara, her chin balanced on her hand, held up by the elbow she kept on the table. "i sent you the account so you can look at it yourself!" yuji protested, pointing at your phone placed on the centre of the round table.

nobara held a hand up and looked around with a grimace. "okay — why are you yelling?"

before yuji could answer, with a pointless response no doubt, you intervened with downturned lips, unimpressed. "why would you even tell us this if you didn't wanna discuss it?"

"'cause it's rude!"

the four of you were hunched over around the cafeteria table, the usual din of voices creating a background hum that you'd all grown used to. your phone was placed in the centre, like some kind of prized artifact, its screen aglow with yuji's latest discovery, something he had learned from junpei the other day.

a few students nearby shot glances in your direction, perhaps noting the way nobara's voice was dipping lower and the way yuji kept throwing up his hands in protest. megumi sat beside you with his usual impassive expression, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but here, indulging in pointless gossip. even so, you could tell he did seem mildly intrigued by the new info.

during sophomore year, an instagram account had been opened by an anonymous person at the school, surrounding its posts and content on potential (or actual) relationships — it went by the name @jujutsuhighships. it had been inactive during the spring semester last academic year, so you'd all believed it to be gone for good. perhaps the owner had grown tired of maintaining such an account. megumi suggested that they might have been finishing off their senior year at the time and left the school entirely; there was no point in running an account for a school they no longer attended.

you commended him with the idea of that theory, and it had been a plausible explanation at first, for some time...

before the account owner had posted a new image last week.

it was about jemma abrams and hallie gomez, both of whom were supposedly cheating on their partners with each other.

the issue here was that the three of you had been patiently waiting for the juicy details, but yuji, despite having brought up the topic entirely, seemed reluctant to dig into the gossip itself, apparently too kind to do so. it made you want to grab him by his unnatural, pink hair and shake him where he sat: why bring it up if you aren't gonna let us revel in it?

"oh my god, just forget it," nobara groaned, pulling out her own phone and tapping at it aggressively. "i'll just ask my cheer girls to fill us in. stephanie has a mutual friend with jemma."

"what if the account's wrong?" megumi suggested, speaking for the first time in a while. when you all turned to face him, he frowned. "does no one remember what it said about yuji last year?"

the boy in question visibly shivered. it seemed that he himself had not forgotten, and why would he? that was a serious accusation, you noted in your head thoughtfully.

when choso had come to the school to walk yuji to an external football club at some ordinary wednesday in sophomore year, a later post had been made by @jujutsuhighships claiming that yuji was having questionable relations with a 'much older, tattooed man', and then attached an image of choso and yuji walking on one side of the crosswalk together.

"the account makes mistakes all the time," said nobara, shrugging. one glance at yuji had her visibly grimacing. "really disgusting mistakes sometimes, sure, but look at the way they post — i don't think it's meant to be accurate. they post about relationships we know of, random pairings they think would look nice, and then random people on the side —"

"— like you and malakai," you added helpfully.

she faced you with sharp, narrowed eyes.

"y/n, i'm going to stab you if you keep mentioning that."

you tried (and failed) to mask your grin. "but i just helped prove your point."

"that wasn't a mistake," she corrected you with a slam of her hand on the table. people walking by glanced at the back of her head with visible confusion; her eyes remained glued to your face nonetheless. "that was a crime."

she continued aggressively and violently tapping on her phone, her lips in a straight line as she glared down at the screen.

"that stupid owner's lucky i'm not pressing charges," she mumbled, and it sounded as though she were speaking more to herself than to you. you couldn't blame her — that was also a nasty accusation against your friend.

as she furiously pressed at her phone, shooting yuji a glare when he dared to laugh at her expression, your own device vibrated against the table, drawing your attention. the screen lit up with a new notification, the small preview showing a subject line that immediately caught your eye: Regarding Your Recent Inquiry.

you grabbed the phone, your heart beating dramatically against your chest as you read the sender's name — kento nanami.

"guys, kento just emailed me," you mumbled, opening it up before rapidly averting your gaze, slamming your phone back down onto the table with a gasp, face down. "it's about the tutor thingy. quick! guess who it is!"

yuji sat up, scratching the skin behind his ear. "it has to be megumi."

you raised a brow. "kento said —"

"i know what he said," yuji cut through you with a shrug. "but megumi's one of the best in the class. why would he give you anyone else when you're so bad at math?"

you considered that for a moment: yuji had a fair point.

he had unexpectedly gone on:

"like, sooooo bad. hopeless. like super-duper, really, incredibly —"

you tried to kick him beneath the table, but he predicted your attack and hurriedly took back his long, outstretched legs.

"shut up," you snapped, annoyed. your eyes darted to nobara, who had long since abandoned her phone now. "what about you?"

she twirled a strand of her short hair, lips pursed as she thought aloud.

"mmm," she hummed, looking at the high ceiling. "god knows. probably megumi, but i'm gonna say maki."

that surprised you, and it clearly showed, for nobara felt the need to clarify her answer.

"it doesn't have to be someone from our class, right? mr nanami didn't set a limit except for the fact that it can't be megumi," she explained carefully. "and maki's only redeeming subjects, except for biology, is math."

that was a fair point too, you hadn't considered it.

"okay i'm gonna check now," you smiled. "i think it's gonna be ayesha, 'cause she's also super smart. and i'm not asking for your opinion, porcupine, 'cause you're still adamant about not tutoring me."

you didn't even look at him as he responded, your eyes on your phone.

"good," he'd said, his tone sharp and snippy.

———————————

Dear Y/n L/n,

I hope my email finds you well.

As discussed, I have decided who your tutor for Math will be. After careful consideration, I have chosen Noritoshi Kamo to be your tutor. Please ensure you comply and work with him to secure at LEAST a pass grade.

No, you may not request to have Megumi Fushiguro as your tutor, my decision is final.

Regards, Mr Nanami

———————————

you scowled.

"who the hell said i'd ask for megumi fushi-angry to be my tutor anyway?" you grumbled, nose scrunched.

you could feel megumi's piercing glare on the side of your cheek. you didn't care, for you had greater issues to deal with.

"noritoshi kamo," you told them, extending your arm across the table to show yuji and nobara (megumi had leaned in from her left) the email.

their pupils darted right to left and back again, several times as they travelled further down the screen. you watched them with furrowed brows, displeased.

"ah, i forgot about kamo," said yuji, eyes wide at the revelation. he combed his fingers through his hair, apparently in awe at the identity of your new tutor. "he's also top of the class... shit, how did i forget? he wasn't even studying for that one exam last year and still passed with an A."

"he let me copy off his homework a few times," you commented, looking down at your phone screen and then finally switching it off when it dawned on you: nonchalant, angry kamo was going to be your math tutor. you were unsure of what to make of that fact. "eh, could've been worse, right?"

you watched nobara carefully.

your mind still wondered back to the girl that kamo was supposedly interested in, and ruling yourself out of the picture for obvious reasons — like the fact that you barely ever spoke to one another — nobara and kamo shared quite a few classes together, the ones that you did not share with her.

and the fact that they'd gone to the same elementary school had also been a great supporting factor.

she didn't look too bothered by kamo being your tutor, her interest fleeting as she scowled at you.

"if he lets you copy," she began, critiquing him already, "how are you supposed to learn?"

you response was slow and careful, as though attempting not to set off a ticking time bomb. "in his defence, he wasn't my tutor at the time..."

nobara's brows furrowed, and her head tilted slightly as she stared at you, a look of genuine confusion present in her narrowed eyes, as if trying to decipher your thoughts telepathically. you held her gaze, watching as the quizzical spark in them flashed, mounting irritation beneath her clear curiosity.

yuji, seated across the table, shifted his gaze back and forth between you and nobara, clearly trying to gauge if this was just some elaborate joke or if he had missed something in the conversation. each movement of his head seemed more exaggerated, his mouth slightly ajar as if on the verge of asking a question, only to stop short each time, uncertain of what exactly to say. meanwhile, megumi sat beside you, his silence growing heavier with each passing second, and his expression (though blank) conveyed an almost palpable sense of bewilderment as he watched the exchange unfold, pink lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes, mirroring nobara's confusion, remained fixed on you.

"what?" nobara voiced, brows raised at you.

you shared one look with yuji before you let it all out:

"are you and kamo an item?"

and it was at that moment, you knew you should have communicated this to her in private, for her voice had travelled across every table in the large cafeteria, the sounds of movement slowing down, the chatter quieting down, the laughter absent.

"HUH?"

"it's not her," said megumi, sounding alarmed as he shrunk in his seat. he looked uncomfortable with the amount of eyes on your table, cheeks tinging pink as he pulled his shirt up to cover the lower half of his face. "it's tsumiki."

"tsumiki?" you whispered, stupefied. you looked up, suddenly aware of the hundreds of eyes on you and your friends, including kamo's, who was carelessly watching from the table across yours. you felt your neck warm as you lowered your voice even further. "would've been helpful if you said that earlier," you hissed.

and nobara...

nobara looked beyond offended.

perhaps not as much as she did when you'd intentionally mention @jujutsuhighships and their sudden post about her and malakai, but still offended enough to be taken seriously by the rest of you on that table.

"let me make one thing clear," she began, her gaze fiery, "i would never be attracted to that guy."

yuji shook his head, perplexed. "but you're rude to him," he said, his tone the epitome of bewilderment, as though trying to find the right pieces of a puzzle to put together.

nobara shot him a vicious look. you could have sworn you'd seen him cower slightly.

"i'm rude to you," she reminded him, venom dripping with each word, each syllable, each letter she uttered. "does that mean i like you? ew!"

"i thought..." mumbled yuji, brows contorted in doubt and uncertainty, "that girls... they're mean to the guys they like...?"

"well you thought wrong," nobara snapped angrily. she then pointed at megumi, expression borderline violent. "look at him! he's mean to everyone, does that mean he likes them?"

yuji frowned. "megumi's not a girl —"

"said no one ever," you coughed.

megumi wasted no time kicking you beneath the table. you shot him a fierce look, hitting him back with a clenched fist.

your gaze wandered back to kamo across the cafeteria, his steady eyes meeting yours just as you looked up, and you found yourself frowning, not out of embarrassment, but in silent self-reflection, realising that you had completely misread the situation with nobara. the thought of kamo and tsumiki together definitely seemed strange at first, an unlikely pair with her quiet warmth and his distant behaviour — but somehow, it was an arrangement that you supposed almost made sense.

almost.

it was still weird, no matter how many times you repeated it like a mantra in your own head.

there was a softness in his gaze as he looked away, and you found yourself reconsidering the assumptions you'd made.

it didn't matter anyway — you had to set up a tutoring session with him sooner or later, you concluded, silently standing up. might as well get it over and done with.

"i'll be right back," you told your friends casually.

"where are you going?" megumi questioned, looking mildly curious despite his attempts to look unbothered.

you gestured over to kamo's table.

"my new math tutor," you answered, before throwing megumi a scowl. "which isn't you by the way, 'cause you didn't wanna do anything about being my tutor."

megumi averted his gaze, absentmindedly turning his phone on and scrolling through random articles online while simultaneously jutting his chin in kamo's direction

"scuttle's waiting for you," he stated, bored.

you grabbed your schoolbag, feeling its heavy weight in your hand as you swung it towards megumi with just enough force to make him wince and raise an arm defensively. the thud echoed in the small space between you, and a faint, barely-there smirk pulled at your lips as you saw him grumble something under his breath, glaring up at you as though you had committed blasphemy.

tossing the bag back onto your seat with a casual flick, you straightened up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, and cast a quick glance at kamo's table: he was sitting with chad, silently nodding every once in a while as the blonde spoke to him animatedly.

steeling yourself, you headed towards their table, and it was as though the two had sensed you drawing nearer, for both their heads had turned to face you, brows raised.

chad raised a hand; kamo did nothing.

"hey, y/n," said chad, watching you as you sat across him, a respectable amount of space between yourself and kamo. "what's up?"

you returned his look with a warm smile.

"not much, just needed to speak with kamo," you replied, letting your gaze shift over to kamo, catching his eye for a brief moment.

chad's thick brows rose, eyes widened like he'd finally put two complicated final pieces of a puzzle together.

"oh yeah, since he's your math tutor now," he added, flashing his friend a playful grin. "that's so cool, dude."

you raised a curious brow, tilting your head as you looked between the two of them, intrigued.

"ken— mr nanami told you?" you asked, eyes shifting back and forth as though searching their expressions for confirmation.

you were well aware of the email he'd sent to you, confirming that kamo would be your tutor, but you'd assumed that you were going to have to be the one to communicate that to kamo instead.

wow, you thought to yourself in your head, unsurprised. kento seriously had truly given the decision a lot of 'careful consideration'.

"he told me in business class yesterday," said kamo, shrugging.

your expression had shifted to one of delight.

"and you agreed?"

kamo's expression had remained unmoving. it reminded you of the face freeze episode from spongebob, except you were certain that kamo truly did not care about how careless he looked a hundred percent of the time.

"he said it'd give me extra credit," he told you honestly. "and i could put it down as volunteering hours in my college application."

your expression faltered, the initial excitement softening into something closer to resignation. though you appreciated kamo's honesty, you couldn't ignore the slight surprise that had tugged at you. his bluntness, while straightforward, was different from what you were used to with your friends like nobara or megumi. with them, bluntness came with familiarity; here, it felt different, but perhaps it was because of the fact that — reminding yourself of this once again — you had never properly held a conversation with the careless, unbothered boy.

chad, watching the exchange, shook his head with a small, bemused frown, apparently reading more into the situation than kamo seemed to have done.

"wow," you sighed, shaking your head in disappointment, "only for extra credit, and not 'cause a friend of a friend needs help?"

kamo raised a brow at you.

"friend of a friend?" he repeated.

helpfully, chad spoke up. "that's me, man."

kamo took one look at you and relented, pulling his phone out and sliding it over to you, eyes half-lidded.

"sure," he'd said, as you eyed the device warily. "put your number in, we can start tomorrow."

you picked up kamo's phone from the table, absentmindedly tilting your hands forward to inspect it. predictably, it was as bland as the boy who owned it — a plain navy case devoid of any distinguishing marks or personality, with a slightly scratched screen that suggested it had been dropped a few times but never enough to shatter. the wallpaper, visible for a fleeting second before the screen dimmed, was just black. not a minimalistic design, not a landscape or a photo— just the default black screen.

it felt fitting somehow, matching kamo's neutral demeanour.

you typed your number in with quick, efficient taps, and for a moment, you considered saving your contact with something clever, if only to spice up the device a little.

seriously, you thought to yourself, as you wrote your name in, it's worse than uncle ogi's.

you slid it back over, smiling at him when he picked it up, his brow twitching at your display name:

<kamotionless's student3

he didn't say anything, only looking at you as though you had grown two heads.

you watched kamo's expression, your grin only growing as a faint flicker of something crossed his otherwise stoic face; you weren't quite sure what it was, but you concluded that it had to be something in between irritation and intrigue.

feeling rather pleased with your handiwork, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms in quiet triumph, and chad, ever the instigator, leaned over to sneak a peek at the screen in kamo's hand. his amusement was infectious, and you couldn't help but join in, watching as kamo's brow furrowed ever so slightly — a rare crack in his expression.

"sorry, man, but she got you," laughed chad, as kamo merely slipped his phone into his pocket with a sigh, his lack of response betraying nothing but mild exasperation.

"my history class is cancelled tomorrow," said kamo, sitting up in his seat and peering back at you. "what about yours?"

"same," you nodded, trying to remember the layout of your timetable. it was still a new one that you had yet to properly get used to. "so before physics tomorrow?"

it was settled.

tomorrow, in the hour before physics, you'd have your first-ever tutoring session with kamo. the idea felt strangely weighty, though you couldn't quite pinpoint why. perhaps it was because of the fact that during cancelled sessions, the ones you shared with nobara would be spent with messing around in the girls' toilets, forcing your way into yuji's classes, reminding megumi how much you 'missed' him outside of his classes. it had never been spent studying with kamo.

regardless, you'd made up your mind to make it work, and as you stood to leave his table and go back to yours, being polite enough to wave at him and chad, you were surprised to find that you didn't quite dread the idea of noritoshi kamo being your new math tutor.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the classroom was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the occasional scratch of your pencil against paper. sunlight filtered weakly through the partially drawn blinds, casting slanted lines across the tiled floor and the battered desks around you.

you had taken an unoccupied classroom with kamo for your first tutor session, but only after discovering the library to be utterly useless — the librarian didn't enjoy partnered work that involved talking, evidently, so you'd silently taken your leave and discovered several empty classes to use.

kamo sat beside you, phone in hand, the muted glow of the screen reflecting on his impassive face. though his attention seemed fixed on whatever he was scrolling through, every few minutes, his gaze flickered towards your notebook, scanning the equations you were working on with a measured glance. it was a strange rhythm — the way he balanced distraction with diligence — but it seemed to work, his occasional corrections or affirming nods offering just enough guidance without breaking the silence.

you shifted in your seat, pausing for a moment to reread the problem before scribbling down your next attempt, but there was an itch somewhere in the back of your mind.

you were bored.

you could only so much math before your brain started hallucinating numbers and swirls on the floor where only the hard concrete should be.

eyeing the blank whiteboard, a lightbulb flickered on over your head.

"what if," you began, spinning the pencil in your hand, "you taught me all this stuff using the whiteboard?"

kamo placed his phone on the table dismissively. "no."

you sighed, brows furrowed and lips downturned ever so slightly.

"please?" you tried again.

and to your surprise, you watched as he let out a long sigh, apparently relenting to your demand, his hands gripping at the table as he pushed himself back, the creak of the chair against the floorboards scratching that pesky itch in your brain.

"kamo —" you began, unsure of what was happening before you.

"don't have second thoughts now," he said, picking up a red board-marker from the unoccupied desk and pulling off its lid.

you blinked in shock.

"i'm not!" you told him, sitting up in excitement as he actually wrote more equations for you to work through on the empty board. "i thought i'd have to persuade you a bit more... is all."

you watched his back, watched as one hand scribbled example demonstrations on the board as the other raised itself to scratch at his head, his silky hair tied in a low bun.

kamo turned around and tapped the board with the back of the pen.

"work through these and let me know if you're stuck... again," he'd told you, securing the lid on the pen with a satisfying click that sounded around the empty classroom.

again, you heard his voice repeat in your head, frowning as he peered back at you, expressionless.

"i'm sorry, were you expecting someone who already knew the content?" you shot back, your arms folded over the table as you leaned up to press your front against the edge. "and i asked you to teach me using the board, not just write a bunch of equations on there — i could do that any time i want."

kamo let out a deep, deliberate sigh, his shoulders rising and falling in a way that suggested equal parts reluctance and resignation. you waited patiently, his expression shifting ever so slightly, a faint flicker of annoyance crossing his otherwise unreadable features before settling back into his usual impassivity, and you could barely hold back the grin tugging at your lips, your excitement bubbling under your skin as you watched him turn back towards the board.

for a fleeting moment, you were convinced he was about to toss the marker aside and return to his seat, but instead, he raised it again and began writing more deliberately this time, the marker squeaking faintly against the smooth surface.

the realization hit you all at once: he was actually going to teach you just because you had asked. your heart leapt, and you sat up straighter, practically buzzing with anticipation. this was better than you'd hoped — who knew noritoshi kamo was such a people-pleased?

certainly not you.

he explained what he was doing as he went, putting you on the spot and asking you questions, going back to write on the board, highlighting your mistakes. it was as though you were having a one-to-one class with a genius.

he placed the marker back down on the desk when you had finally grasped the topic.

"had no idea you could be so compliant," you grinned, raising your brows teasingly.

kamo stared at you, inert and idle.

"don't say it like that," he told you, looking sullen. "i see the way you react when yuji doesn't listen to you," he added, pulling back the chair beside you to sit on it again. "i don't really want my hair pulled out of my scalp."

"oh i can tell," you laughed, eyeing his bun. "it looks healthier than half the girls' at the school. you take advice from nobara or something? you could give her a run for her money, y'know."

not that you'd ever tell her that.

kamo averted his gaze, some type of emotion you couldn't quite describe passing by his features quicker than you could pinpoint. he looked like he was remembering something almost traumatic.

"something like that," he settled on saying, his voice low and dismissive.

you picked up your pencil again, leaning over your notebook as the quiet settled back in, save for the soft scratch of graphite against paper. the equations in front of you demanded attention, but your mind wandered, replaying kamo's fleeting expression like a puzzle you couldn't quite solve.

the classroom itself, as you worked silently, felt heavy with the kind of quiet that wasn't entirely uncomfortable, just contemplative.

and yet, the stillness had been disrupted as kamo's voice cut through the air — low, casual, but carrying just enough curiosity to pull your focus back to him.

"ryan sent me some old post from that ship account."

you looked up, watching him show you his phone where his friend had, indeed, sent him a post from @jujutsuhighships.

you raised your brows in pleasant surprise, a grin tugging at your lips at the video playing before you. the account had taken what yuji had posted on twitter years ago and revived it a few months ago:

"toge!" yuji's enthusiastic voice sounded from the speakers on kamo's phone. he jammed the camera in middle-school-toge's face at the gym where the basketball players were having their first play of the season. "if you and y/n are together, does that — that makes me, like, your brother-in-law, right?"

toge shrugged. "sure."

and then the camera was a blur of motion, for yuji had whipped the camera around to find you, sitting on a bench beside nobara, who was sandwiched between yourself and megumi.

your brows raised in amazement: you had almost forgotten about nobara's dark hair, the natural colour she'd sported before eventually dying it to become something more brighter. you thought she looked flattering both ways.

"y/n, when did you and toge get together?" yuji called out loudly over the chatter, cheers, and laughter.

you made a face as though deep in thought. it was fake, you knew it, your friends knew it, but funnily enough, nobody else knew it.

"since elementary school," you said, throwing the camera a thumbs up.

"was that before or after he told everyone you were a mermai—"

"megumi!"

the video ended abruptly.

kamo looked at you expectantly, brow raised.

"don't look at me like that," you responded, looking mock abashed, drawing doodles in the corner of your notebook. "why's ryan sending you  a video of me anyway?"

kamo shrugged.

"told the group chat i was gonna tutor you," he explained candidly. "some of them started digging old stuff back up. like this."

the realisation left a ripple of amusement bubbling in your chest, spreading to the corners of your lips as you tried to suppress a grin. you found it hilariously ironic that kamo's friends had taken on the role of internet detectives, and the thought of them collectively scouring old posts about you (there weren't many, you had to remember) and then tossing them into their group chat as if it were their sacred duty to find out who their friend was tutoring like you were some criminal, was almost endearing.

almost.

there was something undeniably funny about kamo, usually so reserved, being at the mercy of his friends' efforts to humiliate both him and, indirectly, you. it wasn't lost on you that they'd essentially done his homework for him — and you didn't mind, especially when it meant revisiting moments that always confused everyone around you, for the relationship between toge and yourself was non-existent — not that anyone who had asked knew that fact, of course.

"is it true?" kamo had asked, the video replaying in the background again.

you threw him a smile, swirling the end of your pencil around his face teasingly.

"wouldn't you like to know?" you hummed, before chuckling at his scowl. "nah, just kidding. it's true."

he raised a sceptical brow at you. you leaned in, cupping you mouth as though anyone else were in the room to hear you.

"it's not, we just leave it unspoken 'cause it confuses people," you whispered lowly, before pressing your back against your chair again, beaming at him. "it's true! toge and i have been a thing for years now!"

kamo looked visibly confused. it only made you laugh harder.

"you're smart," you voiced, spinning the pencil in your hand, unaware. "who do you think is behind that ship account?"

kamo's gaze drifted upwards, a subtle furrow in his brow, tapping a finger lightly on the table, slouching in his chair. his expression didn't give much away — calm and composed as always — but the faint narrowing of his eyes suggested he was running through possibilities, weighing each name and motive like a detective in a silent deliberation.

"no idea," he finally replied, untroubled.

you furrowed your brows at him, unimpressed.

"that was anti-climactic."

he shrugged. "they're good at remaining anonymous, whoever they are."

you hummed in response, agreeing, the corners of your mouth twitching in subtle amusement.

it made sense, after all — whoever was behind the account clearly knew how to stay hidden, and there was something oddly impressive about their ability to remain anonymous despite the chaos they stirred. you found yourself intrigued by their cleverness, even if you'd never admit it aloud, and you wondered, just for a moment, if the person running it might be someone you knew better than you realised.

you were unsure of how you'd react if it happened to be one of your friends.

"well i know who it can't be," you said, serious.

kamo glanced at you expectantly; you looked fixedly back at him.

"malakai," you stated confidently.

kamo rolled his eyes, his shoulders deflating.

"who would have thought?" he responded sarcastically, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

"certainly not you, 'cause you were waiting for my response," you jested, biting your inner cheeks to hide your obvious grin.

"whoever they are," kamo began, sounding solemn, "they've got a shit ton of haters. someone's gonna unmask them soon."

you laughed at his sombre expression. "you say it like it's a prophecy." though arguably, you concluded in your head, kamo sported a grave look under any circumstance. "they seem pretty tame though, nothing wild has happened yet."

"define 'wild'."

your thoughts wandered for a moment, trailing after his question.

what even defined 'wild' in this context?

you supposed it would mean some kind of messy fallout — maybe public confrontations or friendships shattered over a cleverly edited video. but as far as you knew, the ship account seemed to toe a fine line, thriving off drama without pushing it into complete chaos. it made up theories, sure, but would always make sure to mention in the captions whether it was true or not, whether it was alleged or not.

it was a curious balance, really, and you found yourself marveling at their ability to walk that tightrope. but perhaps 'wild' wasn't about what had happened yet, rather what could happen, and you couldn't help but imagine how thin that line might grow before someone, inevitably, fell.

"something unbelievable," you explained out loud. "something so crazy, no one would believe it. like, information that's almost certain to be false."

"so... you and tog—"

"— lower your voice —" you hissed, looking over your shoulder with wide eyes.

"— there's no one in this room but us —"

"still!"

kamo had raised his hands up in faux surrender. "right, my bad."

you looked around again.

indeed, the classroom was empty, but the whole toge-and-you situation had been running strong for years. you couldn't risk it being ruined by kamo's big mouth.

once you were certain of security, you nodded at him to continue.

"so you and toge?" he repeated, but this time, with a voice you could only catch by leaning in.

"but that's believable," you argued calmly, the pencil in your hand spinning with ease. "even you believed it."

kamo shook his head. "i didn't."

you grinned, smug. "you believed it enough to ask me about it, no?"

he averted his gaze, a silent movement of defeat.

"fair point," he stated, making your grin widen as your pencil spun faster between your fingers.

what he had said next, however, had resulted in multiple things happening at once.

"what about you and i?"

your pencil had fallen from between your fingers, clattering and rolling on the floor.

your breath caught for a moment, an involuntary reaction to his question, which hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite.

a wave of warmth had surged up, pooling at the tips of your ears, a sensation both startling and unfamiliar. it wasn't embarrassment, exactly, you never felt that (with the sole exception of toji reminding you of how as a child, you strongly believed he was fat and not just buff) but something closer to a jolt of disbelief, as if his words had landed in a place you hadn't anticipated being struck. your fingers instinctively twitched towards the pencil that had slipped from your grasp, a physical reflex to anchor yourself against the ripple of surprise coursing through you.

for a heartbeat, you were rendered motionless, your mind fumbling over how to respond, caught between brushing it off and examining the peculiar weight his words carried...

or if they carried any weight at all. what if you were just reading too much into his suggestion? what if you were just being overly dramatic?

because kamo seemed just fine.

kamo looked as though he had just asked you about the weather forecast tomorrow. kamo did not seem as stupefied as you.

in fact, kamo looked as though he'd been startled by your reaction, as if it wasn't explainable.

and maybe it wasn't.

or perhaps it was.

you weren't so sure anymore.

he was the first to break the tense silence.

"it's a possibility," he'd said. again, speaking like it was an everyday topic, common knowledge, like one plus one equals two. "we'll be spending more time together with all this tutoring."

"yeah..." you mumbled, dazed.

your hands had flown up to your ears, and you kept it like that as you spoke, ignoring the odd look he'd sent you.

"it'd be crazy weird, actually," you said, reminding yourself of the fact that since you and tsumiki were like family, a rumour or crack-ship between yourself and kamo would be wrong on so many levels.

kamo was staring at your hands, brows furrowed slightly, but just enough to form a crease between them, showcasing his visible confusion.

"why are you —"

"oh, this?" you chortled, shrugging. his voice sounded muffled. "fall's coming soon. what do you think of me in earmuffs?"

and kamo had only tilted his head slightly, his bewilderment evident in the way his gaze flickered between your hands and your face, his lips parting as if he wanted to ask yet another question, but thought better of it.

"i —"

you interrupted him, panicked and hurried, for the warmth in your ears had not died down yet for some odd reason. it was too late to consider the fact that he would definitely not have noticed that you were slightly confounded if you hadn't rushed to stop the heat beneath your skin. 

"i'd look great, right?" you beamed, unsure of why you just kept talking. "earmuffs and leg warmers, too!"

"i can't tell... your hands are in the way —"

"yeah... i'm using them as a visual..."

he didn't push after that, but his silence only heightened your awareness of the absurdity of your reaction. you could feel the tension pooling in the air, your heart beating just a little faster than it had any right to. his confusion mirrored your own internal turmoil, and yet, he seemed to take it all in stride, waiting for you to drop the act without pressuring you to explain yourself. you did not know what was happening, for the fluttering unease in your chest left you feeling strangely exposed, like a glass case filled with nerves and no cover.

the awkward moment stretched, then snapped as you both seemed to silently agree to let it pass.

clearing your throat, you busied yourself by retrieving your fallen pencil and opening your notebook. thankfully, kamo followed suit, his focus sliding back to the equations sprawled across the page, though he occasionally shot you a few glances. you told yourself it was to make sure that you weren't making any mistakes in your notebook, but you did not know how much you believed in that.

but by the time you had solved the next equation, it was as if the strange exchange had never happened, even though a faint trace of warmth lingered at the edges of your thoughts.

the hour had passed quicker than expected, and before you knew it, you and kamo were making your way to satoru's physics class.

it was convenient, for you had bumped into megumi along the way and hadn't even noticed it. not until he had — very elegantly — called out to you.

"oi, mermaid."

you whipped around on the spot, your expression sour as you glared at the tall boy standing by his locker with furrowed brows. from your peripheral vision, you could see that kamo had also halted.

"stop acting like a hood-rat and address a lady properly, porcupine," you scolded, eyeing him up and down with visible irritation.

"you answered though —"

"— and stop trying to act smart —"

"— it wasn't an act —"

"okay i'm leaving," you snapped, turning away and walking off. "c'mon, kamo."

you strode past him, internally pleased when he silently followed, and despite yourself, you still kept an ear out to listen to whatever your friend had to say.

"come to the open game next week," you heard megumi utter lowly. "you won't get kicked out this time 'cause your entry is authorised."

you turned around and gave him a thumbs up, your eyes narrowed due to the nickname he'd shamelessly given you in front of kamo. that had to be addressed at some point. megumi couldn't throw that around so carelessly anymore.

"i'll see you there, porcupine!" you responded brightly, walking off with kamo and tilting your head up to meet his gaze when he had remained staring down at you in mild curiosity. "what?"

"you ever gonna tell anyone what mermaid means?" he asked you, and the speed at which your expression had turned stony would beat record time.

"i'm taking it to my grave."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

satoru leaned against the doorframe of his classroom with his usual playful smile that showcased his effortless confidence, exuding an air of relaxed authority.

his tall frame cast a faint shadow over the polished floor, and the sunlight filtering through the windows seemed to catch on the edges of his stark white hair. both his arms rested at his sides where his hands had been shoved into the pockets of his pants, looking more relaxed than any teacher should.

the faintest hint of amusement curled at the corners of his mouth, acknowledging the steady stream of students entering with a faint nod or tilt of his head.

"melody, i see that piece of gum in your mouth," he commented slyly.

the student in question paused and threw a look at him, her shoulders drooping in disappointment as she started towards the small trashcan near his desk.

"don't spit it out," he said, watching her shake her head at him and walk over to her seat instead.

"what was the point of even saying that?" she mumbled, but she looked relieved nonetheless, dropping her bag onto the floor as she pulled herself forward in her stool.

satoru merely shrugged, turning back to the other sets of students entering the classroom.

"hey sir!"

"hi mr gojo."

"afternoon, sir."

"noah," satoru beamed, watching as the tall boy grinned up at him. "no liam today?"

"he's getting yelled at by miss utahime," noah answered with a laugh, pointing at the hallway behind him.

satoru's brows rows in surprise, though he did not look as though he expected anything less.

"'course he is," he chuckled, shaking his head with a toothy grin. "i'd go and save him, but i'd probably walk into a singing session."

the students gathered near the door burst into laughter at his casual jab at the other teacher. a couple of students exchanged knowing looks, clearly in on the running joke, while others shook their heads with amused disbelief at their teacher's brazen sense of humour, and satoru — entirely unfazed — wore an exaggeratedly innocent expression, as though he had no idea what could possibly be so funny.

his toothy grin had only started to falter and dim when he looked down the hallway, expecting to see noah and utahime, but met with the sight of you and kamo walking in together.

his head had followed you, doing a full one-eighty as you smiled at him and made your way to the table closest to his desk.

"hey, satoru," you'd causally greeted him, unaware of the twitch of his right eye when you invited kamo over to sit with you instead of the stool in dim corner at the other end of the classroom he usually sat in.

satoru broke the fourth wall with a grimace.

the only thing that stopped him from staring off into the distance, with that disgusted, annoyed look on his face, was yuji's voice, low and confused, speaking right into his teacher's ear.

"gojo?"

he slowly averted his gaze from the fourth wall to meet his student's eyes, wide with confusion and concern.

"what were you staring at?" yuji asked, his own eyes darting back off into the distance — once, twice, thrice — before looking up at satoru with curious, raised brows.

satoru only shook his head, kicking the door-stopper away and allowing the door to close behind him as he walked over to his desk, apparently disgruntled.

"nothing," he mumbled, jutting his chin at the vacant seat on your table, across from you and next to yuko ozawa, his grin slowly returning. "sit down, i have an announcement."

yuji's face fell instantly, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief as if he had just been hit with the worst news imaginable. you furrowed your brows at him as his shoulders visibly stiffened, his hand gripping at the edge of the desk as though steadying himself against some invisible force.

for a brief, comical moment, he looked utterly horrified, his mouth opening slightly before snapping shut again, leaving him in silent turmoil. you thought he looked like your pet goldfish that had tragically died years ago, as the rest of the classroom bustled with their usual chatter, oblivious to the small storm of emotions brewing in yuji's head.

"what the hell's wrong with you?" you voiced, but it did not seem to compute to your friend, who only seemed interested in your teacher.

"a surprise pop quiz again?" he said, which had sent a ripple of whispers around the classroom, everyone looking distraught.

the last time this had happened, it was because of yuji's movie suggestion to satoru, who ended up hating it so much, he assigned a surprise pop quiz for everyone as retribution. the class had yet to forgive yuji for even suggesting anything to your overly-dramatic teacher.

everyone was holding their breath, as though breathing meant the chances of another surprise pop quiz would go up by a hundred. the relief had only settled in once satoru confirmed that there was, in fact, no pop quiz.

"don't be so dramatic," he'd said, leaning against his desk with a lazy grin, only causing you to stare back at him, deadpanned. the irony, you thought to yourself silently. "you can all breathe now," he continued, an air of indifference surrounding him. "there's no surprise pop quiz."

if you hadn't been sitting right in front of him, you would have missed what he'd grumbled under his breath:

"but i was considering it."

he had moved on from the topic so quickly, his mood bright and cheery again, that you thought you might have imagined it.

satoru picked up a marker from the mess of pens on his desk and walked over to his large whiteboard, writing in block capitals — NEW SEATING PLAN!!!

with a smiley face at the end, of course.

"new seating plan?" liam read out, sounding incredulous.

everyone's heads had collectively turned to the door he had just walked through. he raised his brows at satoru, lost.

"but you always let us sit where we want," he added, as several other students voiced their agreement all at once.

satoru pointed at the empty stool next to noah, nodding.

"you're filling me in on what happened with miss utahime by the way," he'd said, as liam sat next to his friend, bag discarded on the floor, kicked beneath the lab table. satoru stared back at his writing on the board, as though staring at the mona lisa for the first time. "relax, it's nothing too bad. you guys —"

fhere was a sudden clatter from beneath the sink, loud enough to draw everyone's attention.

malakai had emerged, his head bumping the underside of the counter in his haste, his wide, alarmed eyes fixed on the board, expression a mixture of disbelief and dread, with his mouth slightly open as though he'd just witnessed something catastrophic.

there was a panicked stillness as he stared at the words, as if the announcement alone had thrown his entire existence into question.

satoru threw him a look.

"get back under the table, kai, it doesn't apply to you," he'd said, sounding just slightly exasperated.

malakai exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping in visible relief as he scrambled back beneath the sink, head disappearing into the shadows of the cabinet, but not before he muttered something unintelligible to himself.

you could tell (from the faint shuffling sounds) it was clear that he was adjusting himself, settling in as though reclaiming a familiar sanctuary, the earlier panic melting away with every movement.

your eyes drifted back to your teacher's face as he continued:

"anyway, what was i saying? oh yeah — you guys have seating plans in your other classes, right?"

he nodded at rana afzal, who had her arm raised with a frown.

"we do, but we hate it," she'd said, looking worried, "and i like my seat."

"me too."

"yeah, same."

satoru made his way over to your table, wriggling his brows when you met his gaze through his sunglasses. he tilted his head down, and if it hadn't been for those ridiculous, opaque lenses, you would have noticed him glancing between you and kamo, calculating.

"y/n!" he beamed, too enthusiastic for your liking.

"that's me," you agreed, suspicious.

he leaned down, resting his elbow on your table, pointing at kamo, who did not look the slightest bit fazed.

"do you like sitting next to him?" he asked you casually.

you looked at kamo. it had barely been five minutes since you had sat next to him. there wasn't much to judge based on that.

yet you had spent the last hour learning how to solve quadratic equations with him, which also required sitting next to him, and he had been perfectly fine then.

there was no reason not to like sitting next to him. kamo kept to himself, and when he spoke, it was easy to speak back despite never having actually spoken to him prior to any tutoring sessions.

"yeah," you answered, as satoru's toothy grin remained stagnant on his face, "i like sitting next to —"

"no you don't! kamo, move over there," satoru swiftly interrupted, his tone bright and his voice resounding.

expression hardening, you followed his long, pointer finger, growing more annoyed and murderous when you realised he was expecting kamo to go trot back to his original seat, the stool on the table at the other end of the class closest to the door.

unlike you, kamo had no complaints, silently getting up to leave, though he held no care to tuck in his stool.

you watched him leave with furrowed brows.

"what was the point of asking me if i liked sitting next to him if you move him straight after?" you demanded, staring up at the man-child, who only seemed to relish in your irritation towards him, as though he thrived on being such a bother to people.

arguably, that was exactly what he did.

"it was a test," he answered dismissively, waving a hand at you before walking over to his desk to grab the board-marker eraser. "you failed."

he swiped his writing away, and once that had been done, he haphazardly threw the eraser at his desk, uncaring of the mess of pens that rolled straight off, clashing against the floor, one after the other.

"and everyone else can stay where they are, permanently!" satoru added, emphasising the long word by elongating it as he spoke. he looked around at everyone as he brought up the powerpoint for the lesson. "see? not so bad! you guys were crying over nothing!"

you glared at him. "you —"

"o-kay! moving on: kinematics!"

the classroom fell into an awkward, buzzing silence, students exchanging puzzled looks and darting glances satoru, who had so dramatically upended their expectations. a few of them leaned closer to their neighbours, mouths cupped as they muttered their confusion, while others simply gawked at the absurdity of the seating plan satoru had so confidently announced.

your own patience frayed further with every passing second.

was this truly the extent of his grand idea? just moving kamo and leaving it at that? your annoyance simmered, a steady undercurrent beneath your feigned calm, as you watched satoru bask in the tranquil chaos he'd caused, utterly unbothered by the confusion he'd left in his wake as he pulled up a number of recap slides to jog everyone's memory of kinematics.

it hadn't been a plan — it wasn't even order.

it was satoru gojo doing whatever satoru gojo wanted, as always.

"sir," a boy, connor hayes, had raised his arm, looking desperate.

satoru raised his brows at him, acknowledging his arm and silently encouraging him to speak.

"can i switch seats?" he asked, looking very uncomfortable where he sat.

you couldn't blame him — the girl on his left reminded you of veera from elementary school. the thought of her nearly made you gag again.

a trauma response, you decided, shivering.

satoru adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, looking at connor with a faintly raised brow, as though weighing the boy's predicament with theatrical seriousness. the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, betraying his internal amusement.

you already predicted his response, and found yourself feeling bad for the poor boy.

your teacher leaned back against his desk with the easy grace of someone who thrived on moments like these, his grin widening to a playful smirk. it was the look of a man who had no intention of making anyone's day easier, though his demeanour suggested otherwise.

behind those opaque glasses, there was no mistaking the sheer delight he took in the chaos he had just stirred.

"you picked your seat," satoru reminded him.

"yeah, but..." connor began, hesitating, "but i didn't know it was gonna be permanent."

satoru turned back to the board with a smile. "you'll live. so! remember this formula: u is the initial velocity, a is the acceleration, and t is the —"

"but you only moved one person, sir!"

the white-haired idiot looked at connor with his usual toothy smile, but you could tell, he did not seem pleased with the interruption. it was written over his face, and having known him for as long as you had, reading his expressions — even while he held up that mask of joy — was easy as pie.

again, you could not believe the irony here, for satoru constantly enjoyed interrupting and talking so much, just to hear the sound of his own voice.

your eyes found kamo's.

he didn't look too bothered.

you felt annoyed on his behalf regardless.

"you can move seats," said satoru, taking connor by surprise. you knew there was a catch, of course there was a catch: it was satoru. "... outside of the class!"

the hope on connor's face had fallen just as soon as it had arrived.

"but —"

"all right, if you aren't outta here by the time i take this blindfold off..." satoru explained, digging into his drawer and pulling out a thin, black blindfold which he began wrapping around his head, his white hair standing up as he tied and secured it at the back.

he looks like a pineapple, you thought to yourself bitterly.

your classmates began collectively speaking:

"why does he casually just... have a blindfold on him?"

"yeah, it's... creepy...?"

"what the hell?"

"the CDE needs to see this —"

despite his vision being completely obscured, satoru's head had snapped sharply towards the student who had voiced this concern, his jaw tightening visibly as the faint tick of tension rippled through his otherwise stoic expression.

"my favourite party game just so happens to be pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey," he stated, looking disgusted. "stop trying to sabotage your good looking teacher for no reason, giselle."

the longer he spoke, the more your mind churned with irritation.

you had expected something more from the seating plan, a real seating rearrangement, perhaps, something that would have made sense. there was, you noted, as the class went on despite the silent anger you wallowed in, no reasoning behind it.

he was a petty man, you understood that, but never to his own students. he enjoyed teaching his classes; his students enjoyed being in his classes. so what, you pondered to yourself, inquisitive, did satoru have against kamo?

nothing, probably, you had finally decided with a frown.

in fact, you'd probably done something to make him react such a way. he had a history of pulling tricks from out of his sleeve whenever someone did something to him (like when shoko told suguru of his minor rivalry against mimiko and nanako, which then resulted in satoru setting her up on a blind date with a cessation specialist).

across the classroom, your gaze flickered to kamo, still seated in that corner, jotting down notes as satoru continued droning on.

you couldn't help but notice how he was still indifferent towards the whole thing. had it been you in his position, you would have threatened to report satoru for teacher bias (never actually going through with it, of course).

trying to bridge the gap between the two of you, you leaned forward, intent on catching his attention, but as you opened your mouth to speak, satoru shifted, stepping deliberately into your line of sight.

his height, as always, created an impenetrable barrier between yourself and kamo.

and he had the audacity to throw you a wink when you made another attempt by moving to the other side instead.

he remained positioned in front of the dark haired boy, blocking your view and rendering your efforts completely futile.

frustration simmered again as you tried to focus past satoru's towering figure, but kamo remained an elusive enigma, hidden from you in plain sight.

and that was exactly how the rest of the class had gone, with satoru making quite sure that communication between the two of you would be so difficult to manage because of him, that in the end, you'd give up entirely.

and you did.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"any of you need a ride home after your extracurriculars? i'm going round the block to drop something off at suguru's."

"yeah."

"yeah, thanks gojo!"

"i call shotgun, losers."

"no."

the others turned to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sharpness of your tone, unsure whether you, usually bubbly and bright, meant to sound that harsh.

satoru's office, typically cluttered with papers and half-empty coffee cups, had become an impromptu hangout space for the four of you after classes. despite the looming end of the school day, none of you were heading home just yet.

megumi and yuji were going to football practice, the usual post-school ritual of sweaty drills, nobara had cheerleading, and as the second-in-command, had a lot of demands to meet, and you had theatre practice, a particularly important session where the layout for the coming weeks would be addressed in.

satoru leaned against the edge of his desk, feet propped up on the worn wooden surface, a casual, almost disinterested look on his face as he watched the four of you interact. the chaos of after-school activities would soon break the temporary stillness, but for now, the office was a brief haven.

except for the part where it belonged to him, paired with the fact that you were still pissed off with his behaviour from earlier on in the day.

"drop the attitude," said satoru, wearing his trademark grin that only made you want to specifically carve out his dimples with a blunt fork. your furrowed your brows at him. "or... i'll set you extra homework —"

"if you keep abusing your power, i'll tell toji to beat you up."

he laughed at that.

heartily, even.

it only served to anger you some more.

"that piece of rotisserie is against us both," he reminded you with another chuckle.

"watch it," megumi mumbled.

if you were in a better mood, you would have teased him for jumping to his dad's defence.

satoru continued as though he hadn't heard him:

"you think he's gonna take your side?" he questioned you, brow raised.

you hated that he had a fair point. you were still going to push aside your pride and demand toji to beat him to a pulp. it benefited the both of you, toji wouldn't be able to turn down the offer unless his wife told him otherwise.

but you knew something that would dig deep into his broad chest and slice through his playful heart.

"i might just form an alliance with him," you shot back, feeling satisfaction bloom in your chest and blossom to its fullest, feeling it run through your blood like adrenaline as you watched his expression fall, jaw clenched and teeth gritted, betrayal circling in his bright irises.

he had taken his glasses off almost immediately, communicating with you through just his eyes.

you understood every word he telepathically voiced, and that only made the gratification of seeing him so betrayed and frustrated even better.

"you guys are against each other?" said megumi, and you couldn't help but hear the delight oozing out of his voice, even if it was unclear to the general public.

nobara, sat on the chair beside him, nodded. "apparently," she'd said, watching you and the man-child — that was sitting underneath a stormy, black cloud at his desk — with narrowed eyes. "what happened? i'm on y/n's side by the way —"

"hey!" satoru scowled.

"oh, it's that thing from physics today!" said yuji, turning to megumi and nobara with wide eyes. "he gave us a new seating plan!"

megumi's eyes had darted from you to satoru and back again. "a seating plan?"

"i've heard enough," said nobara, a hand raised to stop yuji from going on when he'd parted his lips to clarify. "i'm definitely on y/n's side."

megumi's expression had shifted in an instant, the stagnant scowl he usually wore breaking under the weight of genuine surprise. you couldn't blame him: the words 'satoru' and 'seating plan' had never been put in the same sentence in all your years at high school so far.

watching the quiet sharpness he tended to sport flickering with faint incredulity, you couldn't help but feel a small pang of amusement despite your irritation: for someone who usually held his cards so close to his chest, the shock on his face was almost childlike.

"can't believe i'm saying this," he began, breaking his silence, "but what's wrong with a seating plan? it's the only thing he's ever done that actually makes sense."

satoru had been in the process of putting his glasses back on when megumi had voiced his thoughts. the second the dark haired boy had uttered the final word, satoru forgot about his glasses altogether, slamming them on the table as though he'd just experienced a petrifying epiphany.

"megumi... are you defending me?"

megumi's eyes had darkened significantly. "don't look so hopeful. i still think you're stupid."

satoru turned to yuji and nobara with a smile that practically screamed hopeful. "that didn't sound like denial to me..?"

megumi ignored him, turning to you and watching as you folded your arms over your chest and glared at the man sitting happily before you.

"you gonna answer my question or not?" he'd said bluntly, just as nobara scolded yuji for leaning over her head to high-five satoru ('if that's how you treat girls, you're never gonna get one!').

"he literally only moved kamo," you informed him, and at megumi's brow raise, you added more. "...away from me. and then called it a day."

megumi's gaze lingered on you, his brows slightly knitted together, a subtle tilt to his head betraying his confusion. it wasn't the overt, wide-eyed sort of bewilderment, but rather the quiet kind — like he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind and coming up short.

"he's got this personal vendetta against him for some reason, which makes no sense 'cause kamo's just... kamo," you explained, shrugging. "he doesn't even do anything! even you like him, porcupine, and you act like you hate everyone."

megumi scowled down at the back of nobara's head when she had jolted forward in her seat to hit yuji again, which resulted in the chair kicking itself upwards in front of him. he stepped back hastily.

"kamo's tolerable," he agreed, nodding.

"ow— nobara, what the hell?" yuji groaned, causing both you and megumi to looked up and focus on the commotion occurring in front of you:

yuji was rubbing his arm with a pained expression, nobara sitting back with a proud look on her face, her hands holding onto the arms of the chair, as though preparing to launch another attack, before yuji retreated to the other side of the desk, next to satoru.

"hey, who's that?" he asked, leaning down and zeroing in on a small picture frame standing tall on the left corner of satoru's desk. its back was to you, so you had not a single clue on what image he was looking at.

satoru sat up in his chair, leaning forward with a sharp, confident tilt to his posture that instantly put you on edge. had it been any other day, where you could confidently say that you weren't arguing, you would have felt more at ease.

his grin was wide, almost wolfish, the kind that made it clear he was up to something. there was a mischievous glint in his pale blue eyes that shimmered like sunlight on broken glass — deceptive and dangerous. you could practically feel the cocky energy radiating off him, a smugness that seemed to fill the small, messy room.

"that," he began, staring down at the frame with a proud smile, "is my daughter."

all of you froze.

nobara was the first to break the silence.

"you had a daughter with your situationship?" she demanded, sounding furious and looking uncaring of the fact that satoru's smile had fallen at how she'd addressed it. "how come none of us knew?"

"it's not a situationship," he grumbled boyishly. he sounded tired of reiterating it every time. "we're married —"

"hey, she looks like someone," yuji commented, pointing at the frame with a small frown. he looked at the frame, then at satoru, then back at the frame again. he was probably comparing the two. "not like you, though, gojo... are you sure you're the d—"

"yes i'm the dad," he interrupted, brows furrowed in offence.

mock offence, almost.

"stop being greedy and show us already, yuji," said nobara, leaning forward and taking the frame to rest on her lap.

and the second you'd seen the actual image, you burst out laughing.

the frame held an image so absurdly out of character that it was almost magical in its hilarity: a young megumi, no older than one or two, dressed head-to-toe in pink.

glitter sparkled across his small cheeks, and his hair was adorned with delicate bows in pastel colours, framing his sullen expression. a barbie doll was clutched awkwardly in one of his tiny hands, the other holding winx club's flora, as though someone had thrust it upon him mid-tantrum, and the background was equally as ridiculous — a bed draped with ruffled pink sheets and surrounded by an army of plushies. you could see the big, pale hands that were holding his sides, and you knew immediately they belonged to satoru, who had been holding him upright for the picture to be taken.

you erupted into laughter so violently it doubled you over, the sound spilling out of you uncontrollably, and when nobara looked up at you in confusion, you held the frame next to megumi's face, and she had quickly followed suit, her own voice cutting through the air with shrill, unrelenting cackles.

you'd dropped the frame into her arms again as you gasped for breath, and she clutched it to her chest as though it was a priceless artifact, her fingers tightening their grip every time megumi made a move towards her.

his face had turned a deep shade of crimson, brows knitting together as he stood abruptly, trying to snatch the picture away.

"give it here," he demanded, his tone sharp like knives.

when nobara had continued to hold it at all four corners, his eyes had glinted dangerously at satoru, who threw him a cheeky wink.

"i'm going to punch you," megumi had threatened dangerously, growing more and more visibly agitated at the way you had bent down and held the arm of nobara's chair to hold yourself up.

satoru whistled lowly. "that's not very lady-like of you."

megumi turned away abruptly. "i'm leaving —"

"no, no!" you choked, trying, and failing to pull yourself up and stand properly. "no — stop, por— porcupine, we're only kidding! it's not funny..."

megumi ignored you, grabbing his schoolbag and making his way to the door.

"ah, megumi, don't leave just yet," said satoru, eyeing you carefully. "y/n's not off the hook either."

your stomach twisted as satoru's words settled into the air, heavy with an implication you couldn't quite place.

each second stretched into an eternity, and the laughter that had shaken your chest only moments ago felt like a distant memory, replaced by a crawling unease. your heart thumped against your ribs as you tried to decipher what he meant, your mind running through every embarrassing interaction, every minor misstep he could possibly exploit.

but the way his smile had widened only deepened your dread, like he was savouring the power of knowing something you didn't, and then he pulled something out from the drawer attached to his desk.

it was another frame.

you shifted your weight from foot to foot, the tension growing unbearable, as though the ground beneath you might suddenly give way.

karma, you scolded yourself in your head, as he turned the frame around with unmistakeable pride:

it was a titled, angled image of you and megumi at some point in first grade, in the middle of running away from home, each of you holding a bindle; yours a spotted pink, his a spotted red, staring up at the camera looking equally grumpy and distraught.

you remembered that day like it was yesterday.

it was nobara's easy laughter that had you drawing your eyes away from the image, your cheeks feeling hot with anger.

"cut it out," you'd snapped, walking over to try and knock it off the desk, but yuji had skilfully leaped forward, holding onto the frame and keeping it in place, his own sniggering loud enough to make you grit your teeth in irritation.

"look at the back of your heads!" he guffawed, eyes watering as his knuckles turned white with each second that went by you were trying to snatch the frame away.

you were failing, and threw him a sharp look.

"back of our heads?" you repeated, confused, for the photo before you displayed an almost bird's eye view of your fronts. "what do you mean? it's us looking up at the camera."

"what?" said nobara, her pale cheeks pink as she heaved out another breath. "it's — it's neither of those... it's the two of you — oh my god that's so funny — it's the two of you looking down at the camera."

you squinted at the frame again, leaning in closer to examine it.

you were right: from your angle, it was unmistakably an image of you and megumi looking up at the camera, your little faces scrunched in identical, sullen expressions... and yet, the others seemed convinced it was something else entirely.

tilting your head slightly, you frowned, trying to see what they were seeing. the picture didn't seem to shift, at least not at first glance, but their laughter persisted, leaving you more puzzled than before. something about this photo wasn't adding up — and the confusion gnawed at you as you strained to make sense of the strange discrepancy.

but it was when you'd tilted the frame ever so slightly, in an innocent attempt to free it from yuji's iron grip, did you realise what the confusion was.

your gaze locked onto satoru's face — his infuriatingly smug, insufferably self-satisfied expression radiating a level of arrogance that made your blood boil and your glare sharpen into a cold, piercing intensity, each imaginary dagger you hurled from your eyes aimed with the precision of someone whose patience had been thoroughly, utterly obliterated.

"it's a goddamn lenticular hologram," you spat, tone laced with venom.

as expected, yuji and nobara both moved their heads this way and that, trying to look at the different angles of the same image, even despite your stubborn protests.

megumi, who had been lingering by the door, scowled.

"that's what you spend your money on?" he commented, sounding disgusted and incredibly unimpressed.

satoru shrugged carelessly.

"pocket money," he corrected. "when you're as rich as me, this is barely a dent on my bank account."

"hey, scrappy-doo," you called out to megumi, looking at him from over your shoulder, "are you gonna — nobara! stop! — are you gonna help me take this frame or just — ow, my hand! — just stand there and be useless? shit, that hurts!"

megumi did not appreciate your tone nor the choice of name you'd given him. he was not as useless as that dog (perhaps the only dog he'd ever criticise in his lifetime).

he threw you a glare of his own, though he'd realised that the value of it had practically diminished with how often he seemed to use it on you.

"don't look at me like that," you snapped, annoyed. "you're the one who suggested running away to begin with!"

megumi's cheeks had become slightly less pale. he did not like how many eyes were focused on him now. he did not like a lot of things about them: a creepy pair looked amused, another pair seemed shocked, and another pair was round with curiosity.

every single one of them, however, wanted to laugh.

he could tell.

"that's not true," he denied lowly, glowering when yuji had only chuckled harder.

your eyes had widened, the shock of his blatant lie enough to have you release the frame and stand up straighter, gawking at him in stupefaction.

"you're a fat liar, porcupine!" you gasped, disbelief written all over your face and words. "you said we should run away when everyone laughed at us for —"

"take her word for it," megumi interrupted, turning away again, dismissive, "or don't. i don't care. you know who the serial liar is in this room."

you opened your mouth, words sharp and ready to lash back at megumi's dismissal, the heat of indignation coursing through your veins as the retort had begun forming on the tip of your tongue.

but before you could let loose, a crisp knock on the door echoed through the room, silencing the chaos instantly.

it cut through the laughter and tension like a blade, commanding attention and replacing the charged air with a sudden stillness. satoru let out a loud groan, throwing his head back and sighing like a child being reminded of bedtime.

"it's probably negative nancy again," he said, tone clipped as he sat up and placed his glasses on his nose again, expression dull. "come in!"

but instead of the sour-faced teacher who frequently barged in to scold satoru for his casual behavior, the door swung open to reveal kamo, his posture rigid, and his expression betraying only the slightest hint of surprise at your entire friend group being huddled inside the office.

"coach yaga said if yuji and megumi don't turn up to practice on time, he's gonna make everyone run ten laps around the field," he stated precisely, as though it had been rehearsed on the way. kamo's expression did not falter. "i don't wanna run ten laps around the field."

"ah," yuji groaned, standing up and scratching the back of his ear, "what time is it?"

"three-twenty-eight," nobara read from the clock on the wall opposite the display with several students' year book photos.

yuji hurriedly ran for the door, kamo cautiously flattening himself against it so as to not get tackled.

"we're gonna be late — bye guys!" you heard him call out, his voice carrying down the hallway.

megumi exchanged a glance with kamo, looking half annoyed with the ordeal that had occurred before kamo's entrance, and calmly made his way to the door.

kamo's eyes had gone past your friend's face to meet yours, nodding in acknowledgment.

"hi, y/n," he'd said, watching as you waved at him politely.

nobara sat up, her brows furrowing as she threw kamo an incredulous look; he was turning to leave with megumi.

"known him since elementary and there's no 'hi' for me," she said, brow raised as she faced forward again to meet satoru's calculative stare. "can you believe that? so rude."

the teacher nodded thoughtfully. "true, but you'd maul him if he spoke to you."

nobara scrunched her nose at him, displeased. "not an excuse, men used to go to war!"

you stepped towards the door, your gaze lingering on the retreating figures of the boys.

but your brows had begun knitting themselves together when you took note of megumi's deliberate distance from kamo — a space that seemed calculated, almost unnatural, as if he was ensuring they wouldn't be walking too closely. it wasn't the kind of distance borne out of casual walking, but something that felt purposeful: he'd never taken that precaution when walking side by side with yuji.

"you're going to football practice with a liar, by the way!" you called out to kamo, still heated about the untruth megumi had voiced so easily prior to kamo's appearance.

megumi did not look at you when he responded:

"don't you have swim practice to get to?"

you scrunched your nose at the back of his head, turning to satoru and nobara with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

"swim practice?" you repeated, puzzled. "what's he talking about? i don't do... i do theatre."

satoru and nobara were staring back at you with expressions so unrelentingly blank, it was almost unnerving. their eyes, however, told a different story — dancing with mischief and smug amusement, as though they were both in on a joke you weren't yet privy to.

nobara had raised an eyebrow, tilting her head ever so slightly, while satoru had leaned back in his chair, his arms folded lazily over his chest. they said nothing, letting the silence hang heavy, waiting for you to connect the dots.

your eyes widened as the realisation crashed over you like a tidal wave.

swim practice.

the words echoed in your mind, now dripping with mockery.

you clenched your fists, indignation flaring in your chest as you whipped around towards the door again, but by the time you lunged for it and yanked it open, all you caught was the faint echo of his footsteps disappearing down the hall.

too late.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

tsumiki stood near the school's community display board, carefully pinning a brightly coloured sign advertising the upcoming fall festival. the event, scheduled for late september, promised food trucks, games, and a student choir showcase.

her delicate fingers smoothed out the corners of the poster, ensuring it lay flat against the corkboard, a slight smile gracing her face as she stepped back to admire her work. around her, students passed by with their books against their chests, eyeing the poster as they went by, chatting merrily.

she had begun throwing away the empty box of pins when she turned abruptly at the sound of her name, her ponytail swishing as her eyes, unsurprisingly, met kamo's.

he stood a few feet away, posture composed respectfully as he secured the strap of his bag on his shoulder, his expression monotoned.

"you caught me at a better time, kamo," she commented with a gentle smile.

the boy in question furrowed his brows at her.

"you don't look surprised," he responded, blunt as ever.

she knew he meant well, even if he could have chosen to speak in longer sentences.

"i know you and megumi have business class together here," said tsumiki, nodding at the empty classroom on the opposite end of the hallway, "and the girl that was meant to put the fall festival poster up today isn't in, so i had to come down here and do it. you were bound to find me."

she moved her head to the side so as to unblock his view from the poster she'd just put up, a hand raised to present it more formally.

"anyway," she sighed, shaking her head with an air of finality, "so... erm... the student council is currently full right now, which means that you can't join just yet."

kamo had previously approached tsumiki with a straightforward request about joining the student council, expressing an absurd amount of interest in contributing to the group. though his reserved demeanour left little room for elaboration, tsumiki took his request seriously, setting aside time to check for any open positions what-not.

however, she had later discovered that all positions had already been filled for the semester, and as the considerate senior she believed herself to be, made a mental note to inform him directly, not wanting to let the matter go unresolved or leave him waiting unnecessarily.

"but i can always see what's available for the next few semesters?" she suggested brightly. "some of our members have been slacking lately, and... i don't want to get rid of them, but i'm not sure how else we're gonna get a move on if they keep missing meetings and stuff. i also don't know how to tell them, so..."

"don't worry about it," kamo assured her with a small shake of his head. "i got an email from nanami about being someone's tutor. gonna go ask him about it in class today. but thanks anyway."

"oh, that's great!" tsumiki beamed, relieved. she had been internally struggling on how to let the junior know about the rejection. she didn't find any of those conversations easy. "who are you tutoring?"

kamo did not miss a beat when responding. "y/n."

tsumiki's brows has raised significantly.

if it had to be anyone tutored in math, she considered to herself mentally, it would be you. she remembered the notes she'd already used being passed down, not to megumi, but to you instead. she knew you needed the help, not that there was anything shameful about it at all.

it made no sense to her how she hadn't just known (the second kamo mentioned tutoring someone) that it'd be you.

"okay, well," she began, picking up her discarded bag and putting her arms through the straps casually, "that makes this conversation a whole lot easier. i was afraid i'd have to reject you and end it with 'good luck finding something though'. it's... always awkward. i hate it."

the hallway was starting to get busier as their conversation went on.

"so, i'll see you, then," she waved at him politely, making a move to walk off, but kamo had stopped her, stepping in front of her hurriedly.

she looked up at him expectantly, for she'd assumed the conversation was done. surely there was nothing else to be added...?

kamo cleared his throat, and for the first time since she'd known the blunt junior, she realised that he looked almost hesitant.

"i'm just gonna say it," he muttered, sounding as though he were talking more to himself than to her. tsumiki tilted her head at him, leaning forward to catch his low voice. "you're close with y/n."

it was a statement, not a question, she noted to herself.

she nodded regardless.

"like family," she agreed softly, unsure of where this was going.

his tentative behaviour had her taking a step back. something told her that this conversation wasn't just about extracurriculars and things to add to his college application.

but what he had said next was not something she'd been prepared for.

"do you know if she's seeing anyone?"

and then it hit her, all of it, every single conversation he had initiated with her over the past week or so.

kamo did not want to join the student council for a little something to be added to his college application. he had not gone to speak to tsumiki of all people just because she was head of the student council either, however, it had been convenient that she was head...

... for it meant that he could easily ask questions about you, a regular and constant member of the student council.

he did not care that the positions were limited, for he'd landed a different position, a better position, to get closer to you:

he was now your tutor in math.

whenever she'd do the dirty job of turning people down or rejecting them regarding the amount of members, no matter how politely she put it, they always assured her that it was fine, that they're okay with it, but none of them actually were. she could tell by the disheartened expressions on their face that would be hurriedly masked by one of indifference.

but kamo... kamo truly did not care. his mask of indifference, his facade of carelessness had not been a mask or facade at all. and at first, tsumiki had just assumed that he was just that good at hiding what he truly felt (after all, he walked around looking unbothered every second of every day, it wasn't new to him).

but that hadn't been it at all.

she'd been wrong.

it all made sense.

"tsumiki...?"

ah, she'd forgotten to respond.

she blinked up at him in realisation.

"sorry, sorry," she babbled, chuckling sheepishly. "i was just... thinking."

he did not say anything, clearly awaiting her response to his question.

"i'm not exactly sure," she answered, which wasn't a complete lie.

you weren't in a relationship with anyone, she knew that for sure. if you were, the entire family would know about it, for secrets did not exist in the zenin-gojo-fushiguro-l/n family. the last time mai had tried a relationship out, uncle ogi had gone ballistic.

but she also knew that you wouldn't have hidden it from her. it wouldn't even be possible to count on her fingers how many times you'd come to her with secrets, questions, and so on. in the humblest way possible, tsumiki knew that if you were in a relationship, she'd definitely know about it.

and yet...

there was an unspoken, knowing thing in the air that she was aware of, but neither you nor the person she had in mind had ever ventured it. she wasn't even certain that either of you were aware of it.

she herself hadn't been until just a year or two ago...

but that was the thing. it had never been mentioned, it had never been voiced, nor had it ever been implied.

she morphed her expression into one of neutrality. for the things she'd seen over the years, if a move wasn't going to be made between you and him, then it wouldn't be fair to tell kamo otherwise.

she had to be certain.

"she's not seeing anyone, that's for sure," tsumiki informed the boy before her, careful with her words, "but... i don't know if she likes anyone."

"i see," kamo nodded, looking contemplative. she couldn't blame him, her answer was rather vague. "i don't want to waste my time if —"

"yeah, i get you," she nodded, understanding. "how about i ask?"

kamo's expression had turned stony.

"no thanks —"

"not her," tsumiki interrupted him with a laugh. "the mutual friends she and i share. i won't mention you, i'll just ask if she likes anyone. if anyone likes her. you get the idea."

kamo's expression shifted as he mulled over tsumiki's offer, his sharp features reflecting an unusual mixture of calculation and apprehension.

his furrowed brows and slightly pursed lips betrayed a rare moment of hesitation, as if weighing the potential outcomes against his own guarded nature. the normally composed junior found himself caught between his instinct to handle matters independently and the opportunity to gain insight without exposing himself too soon.

but after a moment, tsumiki watched with satisfaction as his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and the tension in his jaw eased.

he nodded subtly, deciding that tsumiki's plan made sense.

"ok," he'd said, eyes half-lidded. "thanks."

when tsumiki had parted her lips to respond, she'd noticed yuji and megumi in the far distance standing near their classroom. yuji seemed to be looking right at her, a broad grin on his face as he raised a hand to wave at her. 

"oh, she saw us!" she heard him saying. "she's saying hi!"

but megumi, she noted, who was standing beside him didn't make a single attempt to meet her gaze, choosing to ignore her entirely and go to his class.

tsumiki did not mind, even if it did surprise her slightly that he chose to choose such a cold way to respond, as megumi was always in a bad mood during school.

she raised her own hand and waved politely at the pink-haired, bubbly boy.

"megumi, she's — she's saying hi —" she heard him repeat, sounding half excited and half confused.

she watched as megumi stepped into his classroom, disappearing from her sight. yuji had, not even a moment later, followed him in, but not without loudly demanding why he was ignoring her.

tsumiki sighed and turned to kamo with a gentle smile.

"i guess that means we'll be in touch," she told him, as he took a step back, eyeing his class.

"yeah," he nodded, beginning to walk away. "thanks again."

tsumiki lingered for a moment, her gaze following kamo as he turned the corner and disappeared into his classroom.

the faintest trace of a smirk played on her lips as she adjusted the strap of her bag and headed towards her own class. of all the ways she had expected the day to unfold, becoming a covert matchmaker wasn't one of them, and she couldn't help but chuckle softly to herself, amused by the unexpected turn of events, and curious about what might come next.

the rest of the year was certainly going to be interesting.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

"how is that gonna help us survive?"

"erm... it's gonna — we're gonna — it's gonna mean we can still have fun!"

megumi glared down at your bindle.

the two of you had made it a safe distance away from your houses — or ex-houses, rather, since you had officially decided that you were going to run away.

after an unsuccessful attempt at helping your mom with cleaning the kitchen counters while she was gone, leaving foamed up hand soap and water-drenched tissue pieces everywhere, the adults had all gathered round and laughed at the two of you, mocking your labour and making inside jokes as thought you were not present in the room with them.

it was humiliating.

so humiliating to the point where megumi had come up with the idea to run away together. if your family couldn't appreciate your efforts and instead decide to ring up the extended family to laugh about you, perhaps they'd be happy with never seeing you again.

that'll show them.

so the two of you had separated to your respective rooms — now ex-rooms — to pack the necessities.

and there they were, laid out on the concrete ground before you.

you had gone first, your spotted pink cloth on the side of the road as you crouched down and picked up your disney doll, sleeping beauty, a small blanket for herthat had been placed next to your toothbrush, and lelli kelly shimmery lipgloss and eyeshadow.

megumi was beyond unimpressed.

"and you didn't bring toothpaste," he reminded you with a scowl.

you glanced at him, wide eyed in petrification. amidst your anger towards the adults, you had completely forgotten to pack the toothpaste.

megumi glared at you and began undoing his own bindle, the spotted red cloth of his carefully laid out on the crosswalk, presenting items you hadn't even considered packing: toothpaste, his toothbrush, two sandwiches wrapped in tin foil, and a small first aid kit.

"it's fine," he assured you, pointing at his items. "i have some here."

you rubbed your forehead with your arm in relief.

"phew!" you sighed, using your other hand to hold your doll close to your chest. "that was close."

"how is that supposed to cover us?" megumi demanded, staring at the little blanket you'd packed for your doll.

you raised your brows at him.

"like — like on — on our feet! like this megumi, look!" you told him, picking up the little blanket and comparing it to your feet. you supposed he had a point, but you wanted to be right.

he gave you a sharp look, very clearly unimpressed with your comparison.

"it's not gonna cover our knees," he stated angrily, glowering at you as though you'd committed a heinous crime before him.

you frowned, your lips in a pout. his tone was rude and you didn't appreciate it.

"well now you're just — you're just making me want to keep on walking away from you, megumi."

"no, don't."

"okay."

megumi looked out into the distance, his eyes narrowed as he shielded his gaze from the sun, his small hand hovering above his furrowed, tense brows. he turned back to you with a frown.

"we're gonna keep walking after a break," he informed you, taking a seat on the crosswalk and scratching his bare knee. it was a hot day, the summer heat had made it so that in the morning, before either of you knew you'd run away together, you had worn clothes fit for the day.

megumi was in his navy shorts and a plain white shirt, meanwhile you were in your yellow sundress and floral sandals.

not fit for the night, according to your grumpy friend.

you joined him on the crosswalk, the hard of the ground rubbing against your bottom, making you shift in discomfort. if you weren't on the run, you would have been sitting on your bed... your ex-bed, which had been so much more comfortable.

"we do a good thing and they embarrass us," megumi grumbled, kicking a stone and watching it tumble dramatically. "they're gonna regret it now."

"yeah," you agreed, stroking your doll's hair.

you realised you had also forgotten to pack her mini hairbrush.

it was too late to do anything about it now.

the two of you had silently begun remaking your bindles again. megumi had informed you that the sandwiches would be used only for when you were completely starving as there wasn't enough food to last you for the rest of the day. he had blamed you for packing 'unnecessary things', to which you had responded heatedly with.

once your bindles were remade, the two of you held your sticks over your shoulders and stared down at your houses.

mrs daphne would be glad you were gone, but you liked to picture her upset at hearing that you were missing.

your father, who was currently on a trip in australia, would be beyond distressed about your disappearance. you imagined him getting that call from your mom, her usually careless demeanour missing (just like you) crying into the phone, telling him the last time she'd seen you...

which just so happened to be when the family had been mocking the two of you.

"my mommy is — she's gonna regret it, too," you mumbled, a lump in your throat as you pictured the next scene in your head: megumi's mom looking for him, and then realising you were gone, too.

the look of despair on her face. the realisation that the last thing she had said to you were impolite, unlike her usual behaviour...

"and — and they'll think of — they'll think what they said to us... before we..." you continued, the lump in your throat making it harder for you to speak.

when you glanced at megumi, you realised how he was looking the same. both your eyes, despite the fact that you were hiding it from each other, were slowly filling themselves up with salty water.

megumi cleared his throat. you knew it wouldn't help because you tried that too.

he continued anyway:

"and when they find our dead bodies... they're... gonna cry at our funeral..."

you pictured your gravestones, his next to yours, a single flower placed on top of the soil on his, several bouquets on yours.

it made your eyes sting and burn even more.

toji would stand by your gravestone, silently staring down at it in deep remorse. he'd think about the times he had never referred to you with your name — always the devil child, never y/n.

he'd say your name then, and burst into tears when he realises that you'd never hear it...

because you were dead.

"your — your — your dad," you added, throat burning as you held back your tears, "he's gonna wish... he said... s-sorry... t-to... me..."

megumi cleared his throat again. you did not follow suit this time, knowing quite well how useless it was.

the two of you were trying your hardest to avoid looking at each other, neither of you wanting to show that you were crying, but both of you well aware of the fact that you were.

"uncle ogi is gonna... tell... the zenins in japan... about me... dying," megumi added carefully, "in starvation... or... murder... if someone kidnaps us..."

your bottom lip wobbled at the thought. you didn't want to be kidnapped. you didn't want to die. you didn't want a funeral this early.

and yet, you did not make the choice of going back. you wouldn't make that choice. otherwise, the adults would never learn their lesson. this was necessary. they needed to know how rude they were to the two of you for trying to be helpful and do some good around the house.

"and s-satoru's gonna... when he used to," you started again, but the lump in your throat was seriously making it difficult for you to speak, "when he used to... make fun of... my english... when — when — whenever i spoke..."

your conversation was abruptly cut off as a distant, frantic voice echoed through the air.

both you and megumi froze, your small feet rooted to the ground, as the sound of your names being called reached you.

the voices overlapped, desperate and searching, growing louder with every passing second. you turned to megumi, your wide eyes meeting his, and though neither of you spoke, the unspoken question hung between you: should you keep going?

"Y/N?!"

"MEGUMI?!"

"MEGUMI AND Y/N —"

the two of you stood behind the fence of one of your neighbours' house, watching as your guardians separated and began searching the area for you.

"they're looking for us," you commented, the sting in your eyes lessening as you watched your mom run in the other direction.

"yeah, good," megumi responded, sounding annoyed. "let's go."

just as the two of you were about to spin on your heels and bolt in the other direction, you found yourselves face-to-face with the last person you wanted to see: satoru gojo stood before you, his sunglasses slightly tilted down his nose and a curious expression plastered over his face.

you hadn't even paid attention to the fact that megumi's mom was also by his side, her expression one of complete fury.

for a moment, none of you spoke.

and when your eyes had locked onto that dreaded camera that hung around his neck, already raised and pointed at you, that infuriatingly carefree grin returned across his face.

"gotcha!" he chirped, snapping pictures from every possible angle — close-ups of your scowls, wide shots of your shoes, even a dramatic low angle of your crossed arms.

and all you could do was stand there, your grumpy faces growing darker with each shutter click, a silent agreement passing between you that this moment would haunt the both of you forever.

all because of satoru and that stupid camera of his.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

next chapter :)

notes: so some of u were right, and then backtracked (muahahaha). my ao3 lot were extremely suspicious and i couldn't trick them unfortunately :/ so... yeah. anyway, thoughts? predictions? what do we think?

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

taglist (send an ask or comment to be added):

@1l-ynn @shaigimo @shuupiu @nappingnai @xbarrjallenx @reinaswrld @anintrovertedechoe @momoewn @polarbvnny @lailuv21 @cherriee-ee @hfuensiekabhsufnd @k0z3me @laughingfcx @jelly-fsh @anonymity-222 @blubearxy @jamypam @thelost-child

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[honeyhae-svt]

🎮02 | Quit🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: strong language (profanity), petty arguments, mention of alcohol consumption, reader getting drunk, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor. (thats about it in this chapt) smut warnings: n/a (yet) wc: 6895 (longer than the usual? ikr)

02

Jeonghan stared at his monitor, blinking twice. It has been two days since he last played with you as WINN3R. His Discord notifications were a chaotic blur of pings and unread messages. He’d finally caved and clicked into the app, his mouse hovering over the muted server where his circle of gamer friends resided. The icon sat there, blinking at him like a neglected child waiting for attention.

It had been ages since he’d last opened this. Back in the day, the server was his second home. Back when life wasn’t about board meetings, product launches, and meticulous schedules. Back when all he had to care about was climbing leaderboards and outplaying opponents.

The familiar server name, "GG Hyungsquad", brought a wave of nostalgia. The banner—a badly photoshopped image of all their gamer tags—looked just as ridiculous as he remembered. It had been years, but the memories came flooding back. Late nights at arcades, skateboards abandoned on sidewalks, and tournaments that had them glued to their screens until sunrise. That was their world. They weren’t just friends; they were brothers bonded by joysticks and caffeine.

But now?

Jeonghan sighed. He’d grown so distant, hadn’t he? He muted the server ages ago, choosing to prioritize his company and responsibilities over late-night gaming sessions. His friends got it. They’d teased him about it, calling him CEO-nim and joking about how he’d abandoned them for a “suit-and-tie life,” but they never pushed.

Click.

He opened the server, scrolling through the channels.

[#general-chat] pledis_boos: Bro why is Mingyu’s face in every ad lately?? Do they just like buff guys who are bad at games now? min9yu: HEY WTF I CARRY YOU ALL THE TIME!!! vernon_98: "Carry"? In which world? This one? Nah. Try again. ho5hi_kwon: Let’s all agree Mingyu’s just here for the visuals. min9yu: CAN YOU NOT

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath. They hadn’t changed a bit.

But then, his scrolling halted.

[#gaming-vc] kitsunya: you guys are so bad at league. please uninstall. ho5hi_kwon: YOU'RE CHEATING I SWEAR. min9yu: Literally HOW are you this good. You’ve got to be hacking. pledis_boos: Guys. GUYS. Let’s stop embarrassing ourselves. Kitsunya’s just built different. kitsunya: built different my ass y'all are just too weak :p

Jeonghan froze.

@/kitsunya.

His eyes darted back to the username, reading it over and over again. It wasn’t a coincidence, was it? There was no way. No freaking way.

You were here.

His heart skipped a beat, and he let out a breathless laugh. Of course you were. Of course his ridiculous friends would somehow rope you into their chaos. How had he not seen this coming?

Curiosity got the better of him. Jeonghan navigated to the gaming-vc channel, his mouse hovering over the join button. For a split second, he hesitated. He hadn’t gamed with them in years, and now you were part of the mix? What if you recognized him? What if he blew his cover as W1NN3R?

But then again, the thought of hearing your voice in the midst of their usual banter was too tempting to resist.

Click.

The moment he joined, chaos greeted him. “OH MY GOD, IT’S JEONGHAN!” Hoshi yelled, his voice piercing through Jeonghan’s headset.

“Hyung! You’re alive!” Seungkwan added dramatically. “We thought you forgot how to use Discord.”

“CEO-nim, gracing us with his presence,” Vernon teased, his tone as monotone as ever.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin forming on his face. “Yeah, yeah, keep it coming,” he said lazily, leaning back in his chair.

“Jeonghan?”

Your voice.

He stiffened for half a second before regaining his composure. “Who’s this?” he asked, feigning ignorance, even though he already knew.

“This is Kitsunya, obviously!” Seungkwan chimed in, like you were some sort of celebrity. “She’s the one who’s been carrying these idiots in League. Don’t let her innocent voice fool you; she’ll destroy you in-game.”

You scoffed. “They’re exaggerating. These guys just tilt too easily.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said smoothly. “Nice to meet you, Kitsunya.”

“Likewise,” you replied, your tone polite but distant.

The next few hours passed in a blur of chaos and laughter. They queued up for a few matches, and though Jeonghan mostly stayed quiet, he observed.

You were exactly as he’d seen on stream—sharp, witty, and completely in control. Every time one of the guys fumbled, you were there to pick up the slack, your voice calm as you directed them in-game.

But what fascinated Jeonghan most wasn’t your skill. It was the way you seamlessly fit into his circle. You weren’t intimidated by their larger-than-life personalities or their endless teasing. If anything, you gave as good as you got, throwing jabs that left even Seungkwan speechless.

And when the game finally ended—another victory, thanks to you—Jeonghan couldn’t help but feel… intrigued.

“Well, I think I’m done for the night,” you said, your voice cutting through the post-game chatter.

“Already?” Mingyu whined. “One more match!”

“I’ve got work tomorrow,” you replied, and Jeonghan swore he could hear the faintest hint of exhaustion in your tone.

“Boring,” Hoshi teased.

“Some of us have responsibilities, unlike you,” you shot back, earning a chorus of laughter.

As you left the call, Jeonghan sat there, staring at the now-empty slot in the voice chat where your username had been.

“Kitsunya, huh?” he murmured to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips.

This was going to get interesting.

You turned your computer off, your reflection flickering on the darkened monitor.

Shit. Jeonghan plays?

The thought looped in your head as you sat frozen in your chair. What the actual fuck? Jeonghan—your boss, the ridiculously polished, too-handsome-for-his-own-good CEO—played video games? The idea felt so far-fetched it almost made you laugh.

The same Jeonghan who demanded flawless work, who breezed through meetings with his effortless charm, and who somehow looked better at 3:37 a.m. than you did on your best day? That Jeonghan? Playing games? On Discord?

Your heart pounded as questions began to swirl.

Had he always been in that server, lurking silently? How long had he known? Was it a coincidence? Or—your chest tightened—did he already know you were both kitsunya, the streamer, and his secretary-slash-makeup-artist?

No way.

Right?

You swallowed hard, shaking your head in disbelief. There was no fucking way.

You paced the room, your thoughts racing. Jeonghan had always seemed... perceptive. The kind of person who noticed things others didn’t. His eyes always carried a glint of something—like he knew more than he let on. But that was just his CEO persona, wasn’t it? You didn’t remember any moment where he’d given even the faintest hint of recognition toward your streaming life.

Still, the timing was… suspicious. You’d been added to the server just a month ago, introduced as one of Seungkwan’s friends. And now, for the first time in what felt like forever, Jeonghan reappears?

No, stop overthinking.

You sighed, slumping onto your bed and burying your face in your hands. So what if he played? So what if he knew? You weren’t breaking any rules by streaming, and your private life was just that—private. There was nothing to worry about.

Right?

But the thought lingered. Jeonghan’s smooth, composed voice echoed in your mind from earlier in the call.

“Nice to meet you, Kitsunya.”

There had been something in the way he said it. Too polite. Too deliberate.

You shook your head violently. “Nope. Not doing this,” you muttered. “I’m too fucking tired for conspiracy theories.”

You grabbed your phone to mute Discord for the night, but just before you switched it off, you noticed the server icon glowing faintly. A new ping in #general-chat. Against your better judgment, you tapped it.

[#general-chat] pledis_boos: Bro how is Jeonghan still good at League after disappearing for years?? ho5hi_kwon: Right?? He carried that game like it was 2016 again. vernon_98: Maybe he was secretly practicing in his office lmao. min9yu: CEO by day, gamer by night. What a life. ho5hi_kwon: Watch out Kitsunya, he might replace you as our new carry.

You threw your phone onto the bed, facepalming.

“Replace me? Over my dead body.”

But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, another thought crept into your mind. What if this was intentional? What if Jeonghan wanted you to know he was there?

The very idea made your stomach flip.

It was ridiculous. He’s your boss. Why would he care about your gaming life? Why would he even join a match with you? It had to be coincidence.

And yet, as your eyelids grew heavy and exhaustion began to pull you under, you couldn’t shake the memory of his voice in the call. His tone, his timing—it all felt too… deliberate.

But tomorrow was another day. You decided to let it go. For now.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he stared at the Discord chat. His friends had flooded the server with their usual nonsense, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking about you. "So, Kitsunya," he murmured to himself, spinning a pen between his fingers. Seeing your reaction in-game earlier had been entertaining. The way your voice tightened just slightly whenever he coordinated with the team. The way you muttered curses under your breath when things didn’t go as planned. You were sharp, competitive, and painfully good at masking your emotions. But Jeonghan had always prided himself on seeing past facades. It had been a long time since he’d felt this intrigued by someone. Not that he’d admit it, of course. For now, he’d keep playing the role of the unsuspecting CEO. After all, the game was just beginning.

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, headphones snug over his ears as he prepared for another late-night stream. His week had been nothing short of chaotic, bouncing between sponsorship obligations and his part-time jobs. Sure, he didn’t need the extra work—his regular streams and tournaments brought in more than enough cash—but the latest gaming setup had caught his eye, and he was dead set on getting it. He cracked his knuckles and logged into Discord, quickly skimming through his notifications. His brow quirked when he noticed a familiar username in the #general-chat server. @/jeonghaniyoo_n. "Jeonghan’s back, huh?" he muttered to himself, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Jeonghan’s hiatus had been the talk of their friend group for months. The guy had seemingly dropped off the face of the gaming scene, only to reappear out of nowhere. Wonwoo didn’t dwell on it, though; there were games to be played. Switching tabs, he opened the #gaming-updates server and typed a quick announcement.

everyone_woo: Streaming 10:23 pm min9yu: He’s suddenly back without notice.

He switched to his streaming platform and hit "Start Broadcast." His fans immediately flooded the chat, spamming greetings and hyping up the night. --- First Game: Valorant Wonwoo loaded into Valorant, selecting his main, Sova, a sharpshooter with incredible recon abilities. He adjusted his sensitivity settings and warmed up in the range while chatting with his viewers. "Alright, chat. Tonight’s gonna be smooth. No raging, no distractions. Just pro gameplay," he said, smirking as the donations and comments rolled in. The match began. Wonwoo was placed as a Duelist in his team of five, their goal clear: attack and plant the Spike, or defend and defuse it. His coordination was impeccable. First round in, he landed a clean triple kill while defending A-site, his precise aim and fast reflexes earning cheers from his viewers. "Easy, easy," he muttered into his mic as the enemy team tried to regroup. By the second round, his team was up 2-0, with Wonwoo leading in kills. MVP vibes, his chat spammed.

Midway through his second match, an unexpected notification popped up.

ho5hi_kwon has joined the game. jeonghaniyoo_n has joined the game.

Wonwoo froze for a split second, his eyes narrowing. "Oh? The retired CEO and the circus tiger decided to show up, huh?" he said into his mic, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. Hoshi: "Shut up, nerd. Ready to lose?" Jeonghan: "I won’t even have to try." The lobby dissolved into chaos as their fans started spamming messages in both Wonwoo’s and Jeonghan’s chats. It wasn’t every day that you saw some of the top players in Korea casually trash-talking before a match.

Game On: Team Deathmatch Mode The match started with Jeonghan and Hoshi on the opposing team. Wonwoo’s competitive streak kicked in as the game loaded. "Alright, boys, no holding back. Let’s make these two regret logging in," he said, coordinating with his teammates. The first few minutes were a whirlwind. Wonwoo and his team pushed aggressively, taking control of the map. Wonwoo, using Sova, expertly tracked Jeonghan’s movements with his recon bolts. "Got you, CEO," Wonwoo muttered as he landed a perfectly timed headshot on Jeonghan, who had been lurking in a corner with Jett. Jeonghan’s voice came through the game chat, calm and smooth as ever. "Lucky shot." Hoshi was no easier to deal with. His Phoenix was an absolute menace, using flashbangs and firewalls to corner Wonwoo’s team. But Wonwoo’s aim remained impeccable. "Hoshi, sit down," he said, landing a kill streak on the tiger-like player. The match reached its climax in the final moments. Jeonghan’s team had pulled ahead slightly, but Wonwoo wasn’t about to let them win without a fight. It came down to the last kill. Jeonghan versus Wonwoo, Sova versus Jett. The tension was palpable. Wonwoo fired his ultimate ability, Hunter’s Fury, a series of devastating energy blasts, but Jeonghan dodged them with Jett’s agility, gliding across the map like a ghost. The two clashed in an intense 1v1, their every move scrutinized by their teams and fans.

Victory: Wonwoo's Team Wonwoo landed the final blow with a well-placed knife throw, sealing the win. "GG," Wonwoo said coolly, his voice betraying no emotion. Jeongahan groaned, leaning back in his chair. "Nice game. Been a while, you didn't hold back down there," Jeonghan chuckled. Hoshi laughed. "Welcome back, Jeonghan. Looks like you never left." As the match ended, Jeonghan leaned back in his own chair, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Watching Wonwoo win was likely. The man was literally an addict to games since then. But what really piqued his interest was seeing if you would join the chaos again. After all, it wasn’t a game night without Kitsunya.

The next night, you logged into Discord out of habit, still half-asleep and sipping on your coffee. Your day at work had been another whirlwind—Jeonghan’s last-minute meetings, a pile of emails that somehow became your problem, and a near-meltdown from one of the junior staff over a lipstick launch. You rubbed your temple, your mind buzzing from the caffeine, and clicked open the #gaming-updates channel. It had been quiet for a few days, but as you scrolled, you froze.

jeonghaniyoo_n: Streaming tonight? 10 PM? ho5hi_kwon: Jeonghan asking to stream? who are you and what did you do with him? everyone_woo: More like he’s bored because he’s bad at work. min9yu: Shut up, both of you. he carried last match.

Your jaw clenched as you read the messages. Jeonghan? Streaming? Since when?!? No. Fucking. Way. You reread the username for the third time, just to be sure. That wasn’t a fake account—it was him. But you hadn’t ever seen him active in the group before, even though you knew he was technically part of the same gaming circle. You hesitated, your fingers hovering over your keyboard, but the chat kept moving.

jeonghaniyoo_n: Wonwoo and Hoshi, get in my squad. @min9yu, you're on standby. ho5hi_kwon: Sure thing, bossman. everyone_woo: @/min9yu's already benched lmao.

You sighed, not wanting to get involved, but something about the group’s energy tonight made you linger. You didn’t play with them often, but when you did, it was always chaos—and you were too tired to overthink. 10:15 PM You loaded into Valorant, headphones on, your usual confidence returning the moment you saw the familiar splash screen. The adrenaline of gaming was your escape—a space where your tired, overworked secretary persona could dissolve into the sharp, skillful player your fans knew as @kitsunya. But this time? The lobby felt different. Lobby: Match Start As soon as you joined the custom game, the chat lit up.

ho5hi_kwon: Oh shit, the kitsunya's here! everyone_woo: Great, now i can lose twice as fast. min9yu: As if you weren’t already carrying the Ls, wonwoo. jeonghaniyoo_n: Queue already

You paused at Jeonghan’s comment, your fingers stiff over the keyboard. His tone—or at least what you imagined of it—felt deliberate, like he was testing you. kitsunya: "and here I thought you were all serious players. what’s this clown show?" The chat exploded into laughter, and for a moment, the tension lifted. Match Setup You were placed on a team with Wonwoo and Hoshi, while Jeonghan and Mingyu were on the opposing side. Your character pick? Jett, of course—agile, sharp, and deadly. The first round started, and your team took control early. Wonwoo's pinpoint accuracy with Sova complemented Hoshi's aggressive pushes as Phoenix. You fell into your rhythm effortlessly, clearing angles and securing headshots like second nature.

Round 3: Midway Through

"Top mid, two," Wonwoo called out over voice chat. You responded immediately, using Jett’s dash ability to reposition, cutting off an enemy push. "Got one," you muttered, your voice calm as you landed a clean headshot on Mingyu. "You’re insane," Hoshi said, laughing. But Jeonghan wasn’t giving up. He played Chamber, a sentinel with precision abilities, and you had to admit—he was good.

Final Moments of the Match

The tension in the game was palpable, the chat exploding with messages as the final moments of the 1v1 showdown between Jeonghan and Wonwoo unfolded. You watched intently, your character long eliminated from the round, leaving you no choice but to spectate Wonwoo's gameplay from the sidelines.

The map was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that set your nerves on edge. Every footstep, every shift of the operator's aim, could make or break the game. Wonwoo moved with precision, crouching around corners, holding angles like his life depended on it.

You muttered under your breath, leaning closer to the screen. “Come on, you bastard... just peek already,” you hissed, watching Jeonghan’s Chamber disappear into a teleport at the last second.

“Nice try,” Jeonghan’s smug voice rang out through the comms, and you rolled your eyes. That was his signature move—baiting his enemies into overthinking, and then striking like a snake.

Wonwoo didn’t bite. Instead, he repositioned with surgical precision, heading toward the high ground. You could practically feel the weight of the entire round resting on him. Jeonghan had the operator, but you’d seen Wonwoo clutch in worse situations before.

“Five gifted if you miss,” you teased through comms, hoping to crack Wonwoo’s concentration.

“Mute yourself, kitsunya,” Wonwoo replied sharply, but there was no malice in his voice, only the hyper-focus of a man who was determined to win.

Your camera panned as Jeonghan peeked a corner, operator at the ready. Wonwoo was waiting. The crosshairs aligned. A burst of gunfire.

Headshot.

The kill notification flashed on the screen.

VICTORY

The screen lit up in your team’s colors, the victory music playing. The chat went wild:

- “NO WAY WONWOO CLUTCHED THAT!” - “Jeonghan WHIFFED LMAO.” - “WONWOO KING ENERGY.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, groaning dramatically. “Unreal. Of all people, Wonwoo clutched that?”

Wonwoo’s voice was steady, laced with the smallest smirk. “Maybe if you stopped dying in the first two minutes, you wouldn’t have to depend on me so much.”

“Ooh, burn,” Seungkwan cackled in the background, his voice nearly drowning out the victory screen.

Jeonghan’s sigh came through comms, followed by his usual mocking tone. “Well, congratulations, team carry. But don’t get used to it.”

"Better luck next time, sweetheart," Wonwoo added, just to get under Jeonghan's skin—and probably yours.

You groaned louder this time, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks. If the chat noticed the shift in tone, they didn’t let it show, flooding with emojis and more banter.

But as you muted your mic, you couldn’t help but smile, the adrenaline of the match still coursing through you.

It had been two months since you started working for Jeonghan and exactly five weeks since he discovered your double life as Kitsunya. So why the fuck was he still pretending he didn’t know? Every time your paths crossed at work, he acted like the composed, mildly sarcastic boss you’d gotten used to. Not a single comment about late-night matches or the fact that his so-called “secretary” could carry an entire Valorant team.

Weirdo, you thought for the millionth time.

When the invite to the Streamer-Fanmeet Gaming Expo arrived, you couldn’t say no. The event was an exclusive, high-paying opportunity for streamers to connect with fans and other creators. And when you saw the paycheck? Yeah, it was impossible to pass up. Thankfully, the organizers had chosen a date that didn’t clash with work—or so you thought. Because there, standing by one of the gaming stalls, was Jeonghan. You shouldn’t have been surprised; he was part of the same circle of streamers as you, after all. But seeing him in this setting, looking every bit the gamer he once was, sent your brain into a tailspin. He wore a black bomber jacket over a graphic tee, paired with ripped jeans and an air of effortless cool. If it weren’t for the fact that you worked with him almost daily, you might’ve gotten flustered by the sight. Nope. Not happening, you told yourself as you adjusted your glasses (part of your outfit) and made your way inside. The venue was buzzing with activity. Booths lined the walls, showcasing merch, gaming setups, and meet-and-greet areas. Streamers and fans mingled, and the excitement in the air was palpable. You spotted Seungkwan waving at you from across the room. Thank God for him—navigating this event alone would’ve been overwhelming. “You look... different tonight,” Seungkwan said with a smirk, his eyes scanning your outfit. You glanced down at yourself: white long-sleeve polo, black necktie, and a high-waist pencil skirt that hugged your curves perfectly. It was your typical office attire, but with a twist—your signature red kitsune ear headband sat atop your head. “It’s called branding,” you deadpanned, adjusting your tie. “Branding? More like slaying,” Seungkwan teased before leading you toward the rest of the group. The first person you saw by the stalls was Seungcheol, casually leaning against a counter while talking with Jeonghan, Dino, and Joshua. Seungcheol was exactly as you remembered him from your rare interactions: charismatic, loud, and the unofficial leader of their circle. Beside him, Joshua was calm and composed, his smile disarming as he nodded along to whatever Dino was excitedly explaining. Your gaze lingered on Jeonghan for a second longer than you intended. He didn’t notice—or maybe he pretended not to—but the slight smirk on his face as he listened to Dino’s story made your stomach flip. He’s too pretty to exist. It’s a problem. Further down, you saw Jun and Minghao—the Chinese duo who dominated every League of Legends match they touched. Jun was animated, gesturing wildly as he explained something to a fan, while Minghao stood coolly beside him, offering occasional commentary. You groaned internally at the memory of losing countless matches to them. Hoshi, Mingyu, Vernon, and Wonwoo were grouped together, laughing at something on Mingyu’s phone. Typical. You were willing to bet they were already planning a prank or some ridiculous challenge for later. On the other side of the room, Woozi and Dokyeom were deep in conversation, likely discussing music or some new project Woozi was working on. You made a mental note to swing by and say hi to them later. Did I miss anyone? Probably. This group was massive, and keeping track of them all was a feat in itself.

Seungkwan nudged your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Come on, let’s introduce you properly. Everyone’s been dying to see Kitsunya in person,” he teased. You rolled your eyes but followed him anyway. As you approached, Seungcheol was the first to notice you. His eyes lit up in recognition, and he grinned. “Ah, the legendary Kitsunya,” he said, holding out a hand. “Finally gracing us with your presence.” Joshua gave you a warm smile, and Dino waved enthusiastically. But Jeonghan? He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, before returning to his conversation like nothing had happened. Seriously?

You forced a polite smile, exchanging pleasantries with the group, all while Jeonghan’s aloofness gnawed at you. Did he think ignoring you here would keep up the illusion that he didn’t know your secret? Or was this his way of messing with you? Whatever it was, you weren’t about to let him get under your skin.

The night carried on with a blur of photo ops, fan interactions, and casual games. But every time you glanced in Jeonghan’s direction, he was already looking at you—or worse, pretending not to. By the end of the event, you were exhausted. But as you made your way to the exit, Seungkwan caught up to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, Jeonghan’s been talking about you nonstop since you joined the office,” he said casually. You stopped in your tracks, turning to him. “What?” “Oh, nothing,” Seungkwan said, grinning. “Just thought you should know.” Before you could respond, he disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you standing there, equal parts confused and intrigued. Jeonghan. Talking about you? You didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. Probably both. You scoffed at the ridiculousness. Game on, Jeonghan.

The event was winding down, and you were starting to relax. Most of the fan interactions were over, and the night had shifted into a more casual hangout vibe among the streamers. You decided to wander the venue, looking for a spot to decompress before the inevitable socializing would pull you back in. That’s when you spotted him. Wonwoo was perched at one of the quieter tables near a VR booth, casually scrolling through his phone. His ever-present headphones hung around his neck, and he wore a black hoodie paired with his signature expression—a mix of calm indifference and quiet observation. You couldn't deny that his face-card would never decline. Seriously, is this group recruiting visuals? You considered walking past him, but then his sharp gaze flicked up and met yours. For a split second, you thought he’d ignore you like he usually did during group interactions. Instead, he tilted his head, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Kitsunya,” he said, his voice as low and steady as always. “Wonwoo,” you replied, raising a brow as you adjusted your glasses. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarked, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a paid event. Why wouldn’t I be here?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Fair point,” he admitted, glancing back down at his phone. You stood there, unsure if the conversation was already over. Classic Wonwoo—conversations with him were always a guessing game. But just as you were about to leave, he spoke again. “So... white-collar kitsune, huh?” he teased, nodding toward your outfit. You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “What can I say? Gotta keep the brand alive.” He hummed in amusement, finally setting his phone aside. “Well, the fans love it. The chat’s been blowing up since you walked in.” “Is that so?” You quirked a brow. “And what about you? Don’t tell me you’re one of them.” His smirk widened just enough to be noticeable. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I’ll admit, the tie is a nice touch.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, Wonwoo.” “Who said I was trying to flatter you?” he countered, leaning forward slightly. Okay, that caught you off guard. Before you could think of a comeback, he gestured to the seat across from him. “Sit. Unless you’ve got somewhere better to be,” he said casually, but the faint challenge in his tone made it impossible to refuse.

The conversation started slow—typical of Wonwoo—but it didn’t take long for the familiar banter from your previous streams to resurface. Despite his reserved demeanor, Wonwoo had a knack for throwing sly comments your way, and tonight was no different. “You know, you still owe me for that Valorant match,” he said, leaning back with an air of nonchalance. You blinked. “What match?” “The one where you rage-quit after I sniped you three times in a row,” he reminded you, a rare glint of mischief in his eyes. “That wasn’t rage-quitting,” you argued, narrowing your eyes. “That was a tactical retreat.” “Sure,” he drawled, clearly unconvinced. “Let’s call it that.” “Do you always have to be this smug?” “It’s part of my charm,” he replied smoothly, earning an exasperated groan from you.

Just as the teasing reached its peak, Jeonghan’s voice cut through the air, calling your name from across the room. You turned to see him approaching, his expression as unreadable as ever. “There you are,” Jeonghan said, glancing briefly at Wonwoo before focusing on you. “Seungkwan’s looking for you. Something about a group photo.” “Right, of course,” you replied, standing up quickly. But before you left, you turned back to Wonwoo. “This isn’t over,” you said, pointing at him. Wonwoo chuckled, the sound low and surprisingly warm. “Looking forward to it.”

As you walked away with Jeonghan, you couldn’t help but feel a little unsettled. Wonwoo had always been an enigma—cold but oddly approachable when he wanted to be. And tonight? Tonight, he’d been... different. “Enjoying yourself?” Jeonghan asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as they flicked toward you. “More than I expected,” you replied honestly. He hummed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Good. Wouldn’t want you regretting showing up in that outfit.” “Is that supposed to be a compliment, Jeonghan?” you shot back, raising a brow. “Take it however you want,” he said smoothly, his smirk widening. As the night continued, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling brewing in your chest. Between Wonwoo’s teasing, Jeonghan’s cryptic comments, and the sheer chaos of the event, one thing was clear: this gaming circle was going to keep you on your toes. The buzz from the event hadn’t died down yet when the announcement came: an exclusive afterparty for Korea’s top streamers was being held at a high-end lounge in Gangnam. You almost declined the invitation—between the long day of fan interactions and the emotional whiplash from your conversations with Jeonghan and Wonwoo, you were drained. But the promise of networking opportunities (and free drinks) was too good to pass up. Plus, Seungkwan had practically begged you to come. The venue was sleek and modern, its dim lighting accentuated by neon highlights and a panoramic view of the city skyline. Inside, the air buzzed with excitement as streamers, sponsors, and a few VIP fans mingled over cocktails and canapés. You arrived fashionably late, your outfit now swapped for something more relaxed yet chic—a fitted black blazer, skinny jeans, and ankle boots, paired with a minimalist silver necklace that caught the light just right. “Finally!” Seungkwan exclaimed, waving you over from a corner booth. He was already halfway through a fruity-looking cocktail. Beside him sat Hoshi, gesturing animatedly about some game strategy while Mingyu shook his head in mock disbelief. “You look amazing, as usual,” Seungkwan said, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. “Thanks,” you replied with a small smile, sliding into the booth. “Is everyone here?” “Most of us,” Mingyu answered, glancing around the room. “Jeonghan’s over by the bar, of course.” You followed his gaze and spotted Jeonghan effortlessly charming a small group of sponsors. He looked impossibly polished, his tailored suit and perfectly styled hair making him stand out even among the crowd of well-dressed attendees. “And Wonwoo?” you asked, trying to sound casual. “Somewhere being all mysterious as usual,” Hoshi teased, wiggling his fingers dramatically. As if summoned, Wonwoo appeared a moment later, holding a whiskey neat. He looked unbothered as ever, his black hoodie replaced by a sharp button-up shirt and dark slacks. He caught your eye briefly and gave a small nod before heading to the pool table at the back of the lounge. “You’re popular tonight,” Seungkwan teased, nudging you. “Oh, shut up,” you muttered, taking a sip of the cocktail Hoshi slid your way.

The night wore on, and you found yourself bouncing between conversations. Seungkwan introduced you to some up-and-coming streamers, while Mingyu pulled you into a heated discussion about a recent game patch. All the while, you couldn’t help but notice Jeonghan and Wonwoo in your peripheral vision. Jeonghan, ever the social butterfly, was making rounds with the sponsors, but every now and then, you felt his gaze on you. It wasn’t intrusive, but it was enough to make you hyper-aware of his presence. Wonwoo, on the other hand, seemed content observing from the sidelines, occasionally chatting with his close circle. At one point, he caught your eye again, and this time, he raised his glass in a silent toast.

Later in the evening, Jeonghan finally approached you. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his tone as smooth as the whiskey he held. “It’s... interesting,” you replied, glancing around. “Different from the usual gaming vibe.” He chuckled. “Well, it’s not every day streamers get treated like celebrities.” “Speak for yourself,” you shot back, smirking. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You’ve been making quite the impression tonight. Even Wonwoo couldn’t keep his eyes off you earlier.” Your cheeks burned at his comment, but you masked it with a scoff. “Don’t start, Jeonghan.” “Relax,” he said, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “I’m just glad you came. These things can be overwhelming.” Before you could respond, Hoshi popped up beside you, grinning. “Group photo time!”

The group gathered near the panoramic window for the photo. You ended up sandwiched between Seungkwan and Wonwoo. As the camera clicked, you felt Wonwoo lean slightly closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Smile. You wouldn’t want your fans thinking you’re tired,” he teased. You turned your head to glare at him, only to find a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “Glad you’re catching on,” he replied smoothly, straightening up just as the photographer signaled the end of the shoot.

The party continued into the early hours, but as the night wound down, you found yourself outside on the lounge’s balcony, enjoying the cool breeze and the glittering city lights. “You’re hard to keep track of tonight,” a familiar voice said, breaking the silence. You turned to find Wonwoo leaning against the railing beside you, his hands in his pockets. “Shouldn’t you be inside, brooding or something?” you teased, earning a quiet laugh from him. “I could say the same about you,” he countered. “Avoiding someone?” “Not at all,” you replied, crossing your arms. “Just needed a breather.” He nodded, his gaze shifting to the city below. After a moment, he added, “You’re good at this, you know.” “At what?” “Balancing both worlds. The office, the streams. Tonight.” You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. “Thanks, I guess.” “Don’t let it go to your head,” he added, the teasing edge returning to his voice. And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you both standing there in comfortable silence, the city stretching out before you. 

The night was unraveling faster than you had anticipated, and alcohol had become your uninvited best friend. You didn’t plan to get drunk—who ever really does?—but between Hoshi’s relentless toasts, Seungkwan’s loud encouragements, and the general festive atmosphere, the drinks kept coming. One glass turned into two, then three, and before you knew it, you were giggling at your own reflection in the polished surface of the lounge's counter. “Another!” you declared, raising your empty glass to a passing server. “Are you sure about that?” Seungcheol asked, raising a brow as he caught your hand mid-air. “Seungcheol, my dear leader,” you slurred, patting his arm with an exaggerated seriousness, “I am more than capable of handling my alcohol.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Woozi, who shook his head and muttered, “Yeah, no. This is not going to end well.” Meanwhile, Hoshi was in no state to help, singing—screaming, really—what sounded like a very off-key version of a karaoke classic, supported by a grinning Vernon. Mingyu had mysteriously vanished, probably off charming someone, leaving the rest of the group to deal with... well, you. --- Things took a turn when you decided it was a great idea to hop onto one of the lounge’s high tables and declare yourself the “ace of the gaming world.” “All hail Kitsunya!” you shouted, arms raised dramatically. The room erupted into laughter and cheers, though some people exchanged amused yet concerned looks. --Okay, that was cring and embarrassing, but your drunk-self cannot be stopped Seungcheol immediately sprang into action. “Okay, nope. That’s enough. Get down before you—” Too late. You lost your balance and toppled forward, only to be caught at the last second by Woozi, who let out an exasperated groan as he steadied you. “This is why I don’t drink,” Woozi muttered, shaking his head. “Why did we even let her?” “I can handle myself!” you protested, though your slurred words and swaying body said otherwise. “Sure you can,” Seungcheol deadpanned, trying to lead you toward a chair.

The night continued in a blur of ridiculous antics, from you trying to "arm wrestle" a very confused server to challenging Joshua to a dance-off—which you lost, miserably. Finally, the group reached a consensus: someone needed to take you home before you caused any more chaos. “I’ll take her,” Joshua offered, ever the composed and reliable one. “Are you sure?” Seungcheol asked, clearly skeptical. “She’s... a handful right now.” “I’ve got it,” Joshua said, already reaching for your coat. Before he could help you up, Jeonghan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He looked as calm and composed as ever, his sharp gaze taking in the situation. “Actually,” Jeonghan interjected, “I’ll take her.” Joshua frowned. “You don’t have to—” “I insist,” Jeonghan said, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes met yours, and he sighed softly. “She works for me. It’s my responsibility.” Joshua hesitated, but eventually relented, handing over your coat. “Alright. But call if you need anything.” Jeonghan nodded, draping your coat over your shoulders with practiced ease. “Come on,” he said softly, guiding you toward the exit.

The ride home was... interesting, to say the least. “Jeonghan,” you mumbled, your head resting against the car window as he drove. “You’re so... so pretty. Like, stupidly pretty. How is that even fair?” He glanced at you, amused. “Thank you, I guess?” “No, no,” you insisted, turning to face him, your words tumbling out in a drunken ramble. “You don’t get it. You’re like... one of those NPCs in games that are so pretty they distract you from the main quest.” Jeonghan laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” You sighed dramatically, slumping back against the seat. “I’m so embarrassed. Why did I drink so much?” “You’ll regret it in the morning,” he said with a smirk. “But for now, just try to relax.”

When he finally got you home, Jeonghan helped you to your door, his hands firm yet steady around your waist, guiding your slightly unbalanced steps as you fumbled with your keys. His touch was grounding, even amidst the alcohol-induced haze that clouded your mind. “Thank you,” you muttered, your voice barely audible but laden with sincerity. “Just get some rest,” he replied, his tone unexpectedly gentle, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. As you opened the door and stepped inside, something tugged at you—a mixture of drunken boldness and lingering vulnerability. You turned to face him, your expression uncharacteristically open, raw in a way you never allowed yourself to be. “You won’t... tell anyone about tonight, will you?” His lips quirked upward in a small, knowing smile, one that somehow both reassured and unsettled you. “Your secret’s safe with me.” You hesitated, the alcohol blurring your sense of restraint. Words tumbled out before you could stop them. “Then... why don’t we just...” And then it happened. Without warning, you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his in an impulsive, alcohol-fueled kiss. The contact was firm but still, your lips meeting his in an almost chaste but charged moment. You registered how soft and warm his lips were, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the dizzying hum in your head. Jeonghan, however, froze. The kiss caught him so off guard that for a split second, he didn’t react at all. His mind was a whirlwind—of shock, of the faint allure of how you smelled even beneath the alcohol, and of a nagging voice reminding him that this wasn’t right. And then he pulled back. His hands gripped your shoulders gently but firmly as he pushed you a step away from him. “What the hell are you doing?” His voice was low, steady, but with an edge of disbelief. The haze of the moment shattered, and you stared at him, wide-eyed, your heart pounding for reasons far beyond the alcohol in your veins. You tried to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat. Jeonghan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re drunk,” he stated flatly, almost to himself. “You don’t even know what you’re doing right now.” The truth of his words stung. Of course, you were drunk—that’s the only explanation for why you’d done something so reckless, something so completely you. You blinked rapidly, your head spinning for more reasons than one. “Thanks again, Jeonghan,” you mumbled as you stumbled into your apartment, tripping over your own feet. Jeonghan didn’t move to help this time. He just stood there, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place—disapproval? Amusement? Maybe something else entirely. His gaze was a sobering force, and you felt a wave of heat creep up your face. Your pride, even in your drunken state, surged up like a shield. You straightened yourself awkwardly, brushing off invisible dust as if the act could somehow salvage what little dignity you had left. “Fuck... Fuck myself,” you muttered under your breath as you straightened and closed the door behind you. On the other side of the door, Jeonghan stood motionless for a moment, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair again. “What a night,” he murmured to himself, before turning and walking away. Inside, you leaned back against the door, sliding down to sit on the floor. Reality hit you like a freight train, and with it, came regret. Why the hell did I do that? Your hands covered your face as you groaned into your palms. Tomorrow was going to be a disaster. How were you supposed to face Jeonghan after this?

a/n: made this one a little longer just in case i dont post the update tommorow.

i have a taglist so if you want to be updated, reblog / comment on this post / teaser / part-time lover masterlist and you'll automatically be tagged on every chapter ! im a (wo)man of my word LOL

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896 @october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me (thankyou for reblogging !)

get back to the masterlist?

[rejectedfables]

Ghostfuckers watch party aftercare was spent philosophizing lore theories on my couch like ancient greek philosophers, and produced one of my favorite plot theories yet.

The Theory:

The Barbie and Blitz falling out was because Barbie and the Sin of Sloth, Belphegor, were in a toxic relationship with a hefty power imbalance, wherein Belphegor had gotten Barbie hooked on drugs and was (or at least Blitz perceived her to be) toying with Barbie for entertainment. Blitz stepped in to defend/protect Barbie, and Belphegor broke off the relationship, because it wasn't worth the drama. Barbie, who wasn't ready to acknowledge how bad the relationship was, blames Blitz for ruining her life.

The way Blitz saw his own relationship with Stolas was warped by having witnessed Barbie's deeply unhealthy relationship with a Sin who saw her as less than. In an attempt to not fall prey to the same situation he witnessed, Blitz assumed that Stolas saw him how Belphegor saw Barbie.

---

NOTE: this post was made in 11/2024, after Ghostfuckers and before Mastermind

(Evidence below the cut so this post isn't bonkers long like all my other meta posts:)

The Evidence:

Royals:

In their fight during Full Moon, Blitz yells "You royal fucks think you can do this every time!" ("Like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!") at Stolas, but we have no context for what other "royal" he's referencing. The only other Goetia we know Blitz has interacted with (more than tossing out a one-liner at Stella and bolting) was Stolas' father (extremely briefly, over 20 years ago), and Octavia, and it seems like a stretch to believe this could be referencing either of them. Conclusion: Blitz is referencing an experience that we, the audience, don't know about yet. This experience involved someone he considers "a royal", and we most likely haven't encountered them yet on screen.

In Oops Blitz refers to Ozzie as Fizz's "big royal chicken," and in Mammon's Special Blitz refers to him as "royal big man." Conclusion: Sins count as "royal" to Blitz, so the royal referenced in Full Moon could be one of the Sins.

In Oops, Blitz's lines about relationships between a royal and a member of "the lower class" ("I'm sure your big royal chicken ain't gonna let anything happen to his peppy lil fuck doll," and "Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his mattress. […] It's nothing else. […] Stolas […] loves feeling the thrill of getting dicked by the lower class. It's a novelty to him") are startling, given what the audience has seen of Blitz and Stolas' relationship. There are clear ELEMENTS of class difference, but Blitz's vehemence seems excessive. That is, unless he's projecting a past experience onto this situation.

If Blitz were referencing a Goetia, it seems odd that we haven't heard anything about his experience with Goetia from his past. He refers to Stolas as "THE bird." It's possible, but seems unlikely to me.

If Blitz is referencing a Sin, there's only 7 options. Ozzie, Bee, Mammon, and Lucifer all seem off the table for different reasons (the first three because we've seen his interactions with them, and they didn't seem loaded in this way; Lucifer because, well, Amazon owns the rights to Lucifer and I think it would be tough to explore this in the way I think this show wants to without the relevant character making an appearance). Satan seems unlikely, given that Blitz uses his name very casually as a swear, and has never reacted to it being said in any noticeable way. This leaves Leviathan and Belphegor as the top suspects for who Blitz could have been referencing/has a history with.

However, IF Blitz has a personal history with another royal, such as has an ex or an ex boss, who has had such a dramatic impact on his expectations and worldview, why has that person not shown up in either of his hallucination sequences (depicting first "truth bombs" Blitz had been avoiding facing, in Truth Seekers, then his insecurities in Ghostfuckers)? I think the most likely explanation is that this royal who he witnessed playing with an imp's feelings was not actually playing with BLITZ. He was deeply affected by witnessing someone ELSE experience a dynamic that he has now projected onto his relationship with Stolas.

Barbie and Blitz:

It would be redundant to rehash the fire with Barbie after doing so with Fizz. It seems like tired storytelling to have her issues with Blitz be the same as Fizz's were, even with a side of "You killed our mom!" baked in.

If Blitz's self loathing and sense that he ruins the lives of everyone around him were only/mostly sourced to the fire, they wouldn't be so compounded. In order to feel the way he does, he has been blamed for "ruining the lives" of his loved ones repeatedly, not just by multiple people at one time for one event.

In Unhappy Campers Barbie defaults to calling Blitz "Blitz" without the O, and only uses the O later when she's trying to be mean. This implies that she had a relationship with Blitz AFTER he decided to change his name (after the fire), and knows him AS Blitz, and therefore that their falling out was about something that happened later.

In Unhappy Campers, she says "Haven't you fucked up my life enough already?" which feels more pointed than just being about the loss of their mother.

The forehead marks that most members of the Circus had seem to be difficult to get rid of (Fizz's was unaffected by the burn, and he covers his to this day rather than getting rid of it somehow). This could simply be a tattoo, or it could be because they're magical in some way. If they are, for example, a symbol of the Circus having been owned/run by one of the Sins, it would be notable that Barbie appears to be the only person who has successfully affected hers, and that she's done so by having it crossed out with little hearts above and below it. Possibly only a sin has the power to overwrite whatever those marks are, and if so, the little hearts might be a sign of the type of relationship she had with that Sin. (This point is a little dubious, since the poster of them working together appears to be BEFORE the fire, as Blitz doesn't have his scars yes, but AFTER she's crossed out her mark already. This could just be an inconsistency from an early episode, could mean this detail is unrelated, could be a point against my theory, or it COULD imply that the relationship with Belphegor started quite early.)

Drugs:

Almost all references to drugs in the show are sourced through Belphegor. Bee references "Belphegor's party drugs," The hospitals are in the Sloth ring, and Stolas' happy pills are from Belphegor (her name's right on the label). On Blitz's phone, there's 7 apps themed after the 7 Sins, and the Sloth one (Belphegor) is called "Sleepy Pillz".

"H8", the drug Blitz was afraid that Barbie was back on, and therefore probably what she went to rehab to get off of, is an irl opioid that is multiple times stronger than morphine. This would make a lot of sense as being a drug one could acquire from the Sin of Sloth, who is in charge of the ring of Hell where all the hospitals are.

Barbie being in rehab means either BLITZ is paying for her rehab, or that someone else is paying (seems unlikely as we aren't given the impression she has a support network at this point), or that Belphegor herself simply approved the expense.

Other details:

Belphegor is a woman and Barbie was depicted in pride month merch with the pan flag colors, so Barbie being in a romantic/sexual relationship with a woman is viable.

In the 11/12/24 holiday merch drop, in the main set of matching art pieces (used for clothes and mugs), Barbie was the ONLY one with candles in her theming. The baphomets (the demon species from Belphegor's domain) have candles on their foreheads, and the dubiously canon placeholder official art we've seen of Belphegor also has a candle on her forehead. Merch art doesn't necessarily mean anything, and should not be considered canon (nor should the placeholder art), but it COULD be a subtle nod to plot events to come. This is not actually evidence. Unless?

We are getting, so far, two Sins introduced per season-- Ozzie and Bee in s1, Mammon and Satan in s2, which leaves Leviathan and Belphegor for s3. Vivzie has said that we ARE getting more Barbie Wire in the show, but not until later in season 3, which COULD align Barbie's reintroduction into the story with Belphegor's introduction.

---

This isn't a headcanon, but rather a possible direction I think the show could go, which would have been subtly foreshadowed if it does go in this direction.

[zoppzoop]

GAAHAHHHHH

[chaotictomtom]

smth so personal abt that show....(Nour being the one reminding me to watch it and showing me clips that made me instantly want to watch it, Syd actually reminds me of Nour and i can see myself in Carmy sometimes, bear imagery, grief, the use of radiohead's let down playing at the end, familiar kitchen stuff that happened where i worked too, FOUND FAMILY TROPE.....da "catch a break to breathe in the cold room" a classic a classic etc etc etc etc etc)

[spiinsparks]

VI’S HOT TAKES  / anon​ / ACCEPTING !         ↳   send a sonic or rpc-specific topic please !!

       ↳  🔥 + drama

        ||. so... the best way to stop drama is to just  ... not engage in drama.

      TL;DR:  don’t go out of your way to read something that makes you mad. don’t head into a tag you’re 50/50 about. don’t go on social media when you’re in a bad mood whether you’re cranky or just really tired. if you think you are in a state where you might become volatile, just take a step back and do not engage. to be quite frank about it, your anger will not only ruin YOUR day if you allow it to, but once it’s posted onto public, it becomes everyone else’s business even in the cases where it shouldn’t be.

         ... y’all it’s okay to ... NOT publish the mean anon you got. just delete it. don’t give it the time of day. 90% of the time the people who say mean things are just trying to elicit a response out of you. do not give them the satisfaction of engaging their playground taunt with a response. 

         FURTHERMORE in the case where this sort of thing just cannot be avoided: always always ALWAYS take a step back before even CONSIDERING a response. some things just get under our skin. that’s okay. that’s normal! frankly, you ought to listen to your anger. it’s just an emotion that is telling you that something is wrong. HOWEVER. that doesn’t make it okay for anyone to ACT upon that anger. not that anon, and not you. or the people who read it after!

         there is a way to go about responding to your own anger and putting down a boundary with those mean people (and / or the people who want to get a rise out of you) in a way that doesn’t fuel the flames. and part of that is walking away. always, always always WALK AWAY before you do anything else. and if you can’t, then you need to respectfully disengage (ie: delete the ask, in this examples’ case), and get your mind off of it for a while. at least, for until you can work through your thoughts and come back to it with a more level head.          write down your thoughts in a word doc or a journal! go punch a pillow! go on a walk or a run to cool off! drink some water and grab a hot shower; do some TLC!  your anger is telling you that you got hurt, and sometimes we just need to let it out and come back later.

        if , when you come back, that mean thing is still bothering you, then - with the understanding of WHY it’s bothering you under your belt - you can respond. but do so in a way that’s polite, and without an attitude. because the second you respond to the other person with cursing, or sarcasm, or just general spite? you’ve already lost that battle. you have not just received drama, you’ve BECOME the drama for actually everyone else around you. it creates a very... awkward atmosphere.

[evie-sturns]

make up - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and your boyfriend chris have a massive argument, and even after he apologises you still dont forgive him. he makes it up to you a totally different way.

contains: smut, makeup sex, angst, arguing, yelling, fluff, swearing.

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

9:38pm

chris walks into the warm kitchen, i lean against the counter with a small smile.

"hi chris!" i speak softly, i walk up to him and wrap my arms around him.

he pats me once on the back before shrugging me off with a small incoherent mumble. "chris-? whats wrong with you?" i ask calmly, cocking my head to the side.

he scoffs, "nothings 'wrong with me', just not in the mood for it.", his voice is hoarse and he sounds pissed.

"not in the mood for what-?" i ask, staring up at him as he continues to look down at his phone, the light of the screen illuminating his features.

"not in the mood for you," he snaps back almost instantly before turning around and walking into the dining room.

my eyebrows knit together as i try to stay calm.

"what do you mean? what did i even do?" i ask, following him into the dining room.

he sits down at one of the chairs with a huff, his eyes closed as if hes trying to block me out.

"chris-" i start but he instantly cuts me off,

"every single minute you wanna be grabbing on me and shit, every. single. minute." he replies quickly,

"i dont understand why youre so obsessed with me or something? like god can i get any time alone?" he spits,

i let out an audible gasp,

"what- why is your ego so big that you automatically assume i'm 'obsessed' with you?" i laugh,

"you're my boyfriend of course i want to touch you?" i follow up, a frown clear on my face.

"you know you can be so damn clingy, pisses me off." chris raises his voice as he stares up at me from the dining chair.

i stare down at him, my eyebrows knit together as i try to figure out how to calm this situation down.

but i can’t, he’s pissed me off now and i’m known for talking back quite often…

“not my fault your a moody grown ass man, but you never fail to act like a child.” i told my arms,

“god, listen to yourself, just a whole load of yap yap yap.” chris mumbles as he makes a mouth with his hands.

he rolls his eyes,

“why are you acting like this?” i raise my voice, folding my arms over my chest with a hurt expression.

“i’m not acting like anything! you genuinely annoy me so much and i’m not sure how much longer i can keep putting up with your bullshit.” he scoots his chair back, it makes a loud screech on the wooden floor as he stands up to meet my gaze.

“well what then- you’re gonna break up with me cause you’re in a sensitive fuckin mood?” i yell back,

“you’re making it hard not to.” he laughs bitterly,

“chris- you get like this too often! i mean all you do is complain and bitch-?”

he cuts me off, “all i do is complain? you can’t go a full hour without whining to me, i hate that about you, seriously hate it.”

i throw my hands in the air, he takes a firm grip of my wrist and clutches it tight.

“let me go you asshole!” i yell, tugging my arm.

he grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

i stare up into his piercing blue eyes as he speaks.

“you are such a bitch, such a fucking bitch.” he speaks codly, a hint of honesty behind his words.

i finally get my wrist free with a loud huff,

“where are you off to now? ‘gonna go have another cry in the bedroom? seems like the only thing you do.” chris grumbles,

“fuck- i hate you!” i scream, storming off down the hallway into my room.

“i bet you do” he scoffs,

i slam the door of my room, i walk over to the bed and flop down on it.

-

i promised myself i wouldn’t cry, i don’t want chris thinking i’m a crybaby.

but now i’ve been alone for 20 minutes, the emotions are finally building up as i replay the argument over and over in my head.

i burst into a sob, instantly trying to wipe the tears away, but it’s no use, they spill down my cheeks quicker than i can control.

i bury my face in my hands as i let out wracked sobs,

i grab chris and i’s shared stuffed animal, which we collectively got for our 6 month anniversary.

i let out shaky breathes as i try to calm myself down

my thoughts get interrupted by two knocks at the bedroom door,

it follows by chris walking in with a small smile, all of his anger from earlier gone.

“hey..” he whispers, a nervous expression on his face

i ignore him, keeping my eyes fixed on my lap.

“can we have a little chat- please?” chris asks softly,

i shake my head, maybe i’m being somewhat immature, but i don’t care.

“i just wanna say i’m sorry, i love you a lot and i wasn’t thinking straight- at all.” he whispers, staring at me.

he sits on the bed infront of me,

“i don’t like fighting with you, and i’m sorry that i managed to start an argument it wasn’t your fault.” he speaks, his hand resting on my knee,

“i’m sorry baby.” he sighs,

i give him total radio silence, my mouth presses in a thin line.

“can i have an answer please?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over my knee softly.

i shake my head with a small pout,

“oh- please don’t give me that pout, i hate seeing you so upset.” he sighs,

“i don’t forgive you.” i mumble, i fidget with my nails as i stare down at my hands.

“okay, do you want more time alone?” he asks,

i shake my head with a small “no.”

“would you like me to stay here with you?” he follows up,

i shrug,

“what can i do to prove i’m sorry?” chris asks, scooting up next to me on the bed and resting his back against the headboard.

i shrug again,

chris reaches out and glides his fingers over the waistband of my sweatpants, keeping his eyes locked on my face.

he slowly dips his hand under my waistband, i feel his cool fingertips grace over the lace of the panties.

i nod slightly, a signal for him to keep going.

“can i make you feel really good please?” chris asks, his voice is slightly more hoarse now.

i nod, “fine..”

i try to sound as uninterested as possible, just as a little reminder i’m still mad at him.

chris grabs me under my arms and lifts me onto his lap,

i straddle him, my legs on either side of his thighs.

he reaches for the hem of my shirt, i nod.

“and.. up!” he gently lifts my shirt off over my head,

he reaches round and unclasps my bra, letting it fall onto his chest

“so so beautiful ‘f me.” he sighs, his hands roam over the curve of my waist.

i stay seated happily on chris’s lap, looking into his eyes as he sits up against the headboard.

he reaches round for my sweatpants, gently tugging them down my legs and off my ankles, leaving me in just my baby pink pair of panties. a little bow decorating the top.

my clothed cunt presses against his sweatpants,

his eyes rake over my body with a small groan,

i whine, reaching for the hem of my panties.

“i’m sorry doll, i don’t mean to tease ‘ya.” he whispers, quickly discarding my panties and shoving them in his pocket

i sit completely bare ontop of him, he’s fully clothed still just admiring me.

he gently rolls me off of him onto my back, i lay spread out across the mattress.

he stands up off the bed and gently tugs me to the edge of the bed, my legs dangling off the end of the bed.

he reaches for his belt buckle, which makes a loud clinking noise as he lets it drop to the floor.

chris tugs off his shirt, which is slightly cropped at the bottom.

finally he reaches for the button of his jeans, letting it drop to the floor and pool around his ankles.

he stands in his boxers, his happy trail peeks out the top of his waistband.

chris pulls me even closer to the edge of the bed,

he kneels down on the floor infront of me, his head inches away from where i need him most.

my breathing picks up as i feel his hair graze the inside of my thighs, my clit practically throbbing now with how bad i need him.

“i- chris- please you- you said you wouldn’t tease me-“ i whimper, shifting my hips to bring them closer to chris.

he chuckles softly, his hands wrap around my thighs and position them over his shoulders.

he tugs me close to him, his nose brushing against my clit.

i feel him finally place his tongue onto my entrance, tingles shoot straight through my body.

he licks a stripe from my hole up to my clit, savouring the flavour as he slowly presses his lips to my clit.

he hums against my clit as he sucks on it lightly, jolts of pleasure rushing through me.

chris has never been known for being gentle or slow, he usually goes so rough to the point of me screaming out his name, so this is definitely a change.

he speeds up, i clench around nothing as i get closer and closer.

my hands tangle into his hair, tugging softly at the silky strands.

“oh- oh chris-!” i moan out, he gently thrusts his fingers in and out of me, my walls stretching around his longer fingers.

that’s enough to tip me over the edge, i clench around his fingers.

i let out a breathless moan as i release, chris gently unlatches his mouth off of me with a grin, my juices covering his chin.

he wipes his chin on the back of his hands,

“feeling a bit better sweetie?” he asks, his lips glossy.

i nod, laying my arm messily across my face.

“tell me what you want now.” he whispers, his hands travel up the sides of my torso as he gently removes my arm from my face.

“you a bit sensitive? do you wanna wait a minute?” he asks softly,

i shake my head, “just want-.. you.”

“okay baby.” he whispers, standing between my legs.

“hold my hand if you need to.” chris says, his blue eyes fixed on mine.

i nod, reaching up and gripping his hand.

“okay- ‘s gonna hurt a little bit but you’ll get used to it like always.”

he gently pushes inside of me, his tip stretching me out already.

i squeeze his hand tight before letting out a pathetic moan.

he pushes deeper inside of me, i let out small whimpers.

“i know, i know.” he whispers, his free hand coming up and resting on the side of my face.

he grabs a pillow and positions it under my back,

“feel a little better?” chris asks as his cock sits fully inside of me.

i nod, finally cracking a small smile.

chris leans down, his arms caging around me as his face hovers inches from mine.

he slowly starts to thrust, keeping his eyes locked on mine as his chain dangles in my face.

“oh- fuck- you’re so tight.” he mutters, positioning himself so he repeatedly hits my g-spot.

“chris-“ i moan, gripping his bicep.

chris quickens his pace just so slightly, his tip repeatedly brushed against that sweet spot.

“i’m so sorry baby- fuck..” he groans,

“didn-didn’t mean to upset you- earlier-“ he moans out as his thrusts keep their steady rythm.

“you- you cum whenever you want to baby, don’t gotta ask me for permission.” he whispers,

i nod frantically,

“fuck- oh my gosh!” i arch my back off the bed,

“feels so full chris-“ i whimper, he reaches a hand down and presses on my lower stomach,

“you feel me right there?” he asks, gently massaging my stomach.

i nod, a choked moan escaping my lips.

“such a pretty girl,” he groans,

i whine, opening my mouth wide.

“yeah?- ‘ya want my fingers?” he asks,

i nod frantically, needing something to muffle my noises.

he gently presses two fingers in my mouth, letting them rest on my tongue.

“goood girl, good girl.” he rambles, keeping his fingers resting on my tongue.

“oh- ‘m so- ‘m so close-“ i say through a muffled moan,

my gummy walls clench around him, feeling the knot in my stomach get closer to snapping.

and finally,

it does.

i let out a loud whine against his fingers as i finish, clenching around him so tight.

chris instantly lets go, burying his release deep inside of me.

he pulls his dick out of me with a loud pop, followed by his fingers.

he stands hunched over between my legs as he catches his breath. “god- god y/n.” he whispers,

his cum slowly drips out of me onto the bedsheets, which chris seems to pick up on,

he gets the two fingers which were just in my mouth and gently pushes his release back inside of me, “there we go, gonna take it all ‘f me.”

he finally collapses beside me, pulling me onto his chest.

i bury my head in his collarbone, wrapping my arms around him.

“do- do you finally forgive me?” chris asks with a small chuckle, still completely out of breath.

“i guess so.” i grin cheekily,

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

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[babyleostuff]

boys and their toys

𝜗𝜚 THEME: angst (+ hints of fluff) 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!wonwoo x fem!reader, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SYNOPSIS: fighting with you has to be one of wonwoo’s biggest nightmares, so when you reset his game - will that be enough for him to finally lose his temper?

natalia’s note: i know you can’t technically pause a game, so this is probably going to be big highly inaccurate, forgive me gamer people ://

“did you touch my computer?” 

uh-oh. no “darling”, no “love”, not even a “baby”. that couldn’t mean anything good. 

you turned off the stove, and quickly wiped your hands. it was honestly amazing how the lack of your usual pet name made you spiral because why did your heart start beating so fast all of a sudden, but… did you touch your boyfriend’s computer today? you never had the reason to, it’s not like you shared his passion of gaming, so you never really touched it or did anything with it. even if you wanted to check something you always did it on your own computer or your phone. 

“yes, wonwoo?” you asked slightly out of breath, peeking into your bedroom. 

your boyfriend sat at his gaming chair with headphones covering one of his ears, his brows furrowed and lips pursed out, as he was typing something furiously on his new purple keyboard. “i paused the game before i left for practice today,” he said, and by his cold tone you figured you wouldn’t like what you were about to hear, “and now it’s gone.” 

he finally turned his head to look at you, and to be honest, you’d rather he’d turn back to the computer screen. wonwoo was never the one to pick fights with you, he always insisted on cooling down and spending some time apart to gather your thoughts so no one would end up hurt, and even during the biggest fights you’ve had in your relationship, you’ve never seen him so outwardly furious. 

suddenly self-conscious, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “i don’t know what happened. i didn’t touch anything.” because you didn’t, you were certain of that. “you know i never use it anyway.” sure, you cleaned today, you had your day off, and with wonwoo at work you didn’t have anything else to do, so you figured it’d be the perfect time to do some cleaning and dusting. but there’s no way you reset his game, right? 

“my keyboard is clean, so you had to do something with it,” wonwoo said, his brows furrowing even more. you didn’t like the way his eyes seemed to darken, and you certainly didn’t like the tone of his voice. he wasn’t yelling at you, but then again he was always so soft spoken with you that you weren’t used to hearing him being so cold. 

“i was cleaning, but i didn’t press anything,” you said quickly. “i swear.” 

“you must’ve, because clearly the game had been reset,” he scoffed. “how many times have i told you not to touch my computer when a game is on? is it seriously so hard to understand?” 

you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. wonwoo, your wonwoo was calling you dumb? “it was an accident,” you straightened your spine, and walked further into the room. “i wanted to clean the keyboard for you since you have been complaining about it being dirty for days now. maybe if you weren’t so lazy you would've done that yourself,” you loved him with all your heart but you wouldn’t let him disrespect you over something as stupid as a video game. “i wanted to do something nice for you, and you know i’d never do anything to your game on purpose.” 

for a second you thought he’d say something back, but instead he only shook his head, and covered his other ear with the headphone. 

you couldn’t actually believe him.  

like an idiot, you stood in the middle of the room in disbelief. you didn’t know why he was so pissed about it, sure - you knew how much time he spent to get to the level he was on, but it was still just a game. besides, his behaviour was so unlike him, and it made everything so much worse. 

“have fun playing your games, wonwoo,” you said, though you weren’t sure if he heard you. not that you cared. you quickly gathered your things, and left his apartment. there was no way you'd stay there, and act as if nothing had happened. 

after a couple of days of radio silence you weren’t sure what to do next. 

it’s not like you would call him or text him or anything - it was his job to man up and apologise, but a part of you, the part that always cared for him no matter what, really wanted to check up on him, which you weren’t sure how you felt about. he was the one to make you feel like the smallest person on earth, he was the one to make you feel like you did something wrong, so why did you feel responsible for checking up on how he was doing? 

you didn’t want to make any excuses for wonwoo, that didn’t feel right, but… you really wanted to talk this out. you had never gotten in a fight where you spent so much time apart - even when you fought when he was on tour you still managed to make up rather quickly. 

and soon you started noticing the small things you were starting to miss. his glasses laying around the apartment, and him running around trying to find them before work. his arms wrapped around your waist as you’d be cooking dinner. his featherlight kisses he’d place on your forehead after coming home late thinking you were already asleep. 

for someone who insisted that fighting with you had to be one of his biggest nightmares, he was being really stubborn. 

you sighed and waddled over to your kitchen to make something to eat. after your fight you really lost your appetite, but you knew you shouldn’t treat yourself so harshly after what happened. to be honest you generally lost the motivation to do anything.

just when you managed to put the pan on the stove you heard a loud knock. the sun had already set, and you felt more than ready to call it an early night after dinner, nor did you expect anyone to come over. “yes?” you opened the door a bit hesitant. a small part of you was hoping it’d be the person you were really starting to miss at this point, but to your disappointment it was a delivery guy, the last person you’d expect to pop up at your front door. 

“i didn’t order anything,” you said, frowning. your first thought was that it simply had to be a mistake, but then you noticed that the bag the guy was holding was from one of your favourite chinese places. well, whoever ordered it had a great taste. 

“is this your address?” he asked and showed you his phone with yes - your exact address. 

he did not just order you takeout. 

“who was this ordered by?” you asked immediately. 

“um, let me check,” he muttered, “jeon wonwoo.” 

you thanked the guy, and took the bag from him. 

and it didn’t stop there. 

for the next couple of days you were greeted with a delivery guy at your door at the exact time you usually ate your dinner. you always thanked them and took the takeout because free food is free food, and if this was wonwoo’s way of being stubborn then so be it - you wouldn’t let the food go to waste just to be petty. 

but you wouldn’t lie - anytime you were greeted by the amazing smell of your favourite food your heart beat a bit faster. wonwoo has always always been a man of silent acts of service, and it never failed to make you feel loved, even now when you were fighting.

the day after the city had been struck by a storm. it was bad, the rain was pouring for the whole day, and you could hear the thunder constantly rumbling in the distance. thankfully you didn’t have to go out that day, but it made you miss wonwoo even more. you always used to cuddle on days like these if he was fortunate enough to have some time off. 

when you got the weverse notification you picked up your phone, and clicked on the app immediately, a reflex you picked up early in your relationship, and read the message your boyfriend posted. 

make sure to bring an umbrella with you today. and if you’re going to drive, be careful  

you didn’t have to think twice to know he wrote this thinking about you. anytime it rained, even if it was a drizzle, he turned into a worried mum, and nagged you about being careful and bringing an umbrella with you, as if he didn’t put it in your bag before leaving for the schedules for you. 

after a week and a half after you stormed out of wonwoo’s apartment you were starting to settle into your little routine of coming back to an empty home, getting the takeout, and eating it alone in your bedroom, where you could feel your boyfriend’s presence more than anywhere else in the house. if you were feeling extra sappy that day you wore one of his hoodies to make yourself feel even more miserable. 

but something changed that week. 

you just closed the door with another takeout when you got the message you were waiting for all of those lonely nights. 

can we talk?  please

maybe you should’ve been more stubborn, and ignored his message. maybe you were wrong for typing out a “yes”, but you didn’t care. it didn’t mean you’d forgive him, you were still very much angry at him, but you needed to see him. needed to see if he was okay. 

i’ll come by after work tomorrow  eat well 

you smiled at your phone with teary eyes as you noticed one more thing you were missing. his stupid “thumbs up” emoji he put in half of his texts. 

you weren’t sure what to expect the next evening. you didn’t know if you’d start yelling at him or if you’d start bawling your eyes out after seeing him after what felt like an eternity. what you were sure of was that you were nervous as hell, which was kind of ironic because you didn’t even feel that way before your first date. 

this time when you heard the knock on your door you knew it wouldn’t be the delivery guy. 

sort of.

“i brought food,” wonwoo said, as if that was what mattered to you. 

he looked bad. the dark purple circles under his eyes. the slumped wide shoulders. the cheekbones more prominent than ever. tearing your soul apart would hurt less than seeing him like this. 

“will you…,” he took a shaky inhale, looking at you from behind his glasses. you had to resist the urge to grab his face and adjust them, as they were sitting crookedly on his nose as usual. “will you let me apologise?” 

“that’s all i’ve been waiting for you dumbass,” you sighed, and grabbed his hand to pull him inside your apartment. 

even though you didn't know how this night would end, whether you would be able to forgive him today, or if you would need more time for everything to go back to normal, you were glad to have wonwoo by your side. you were convinced that the fight happened for a reason, whatever it may have been, but despite everything, you were happy that you could go through it with him.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot 

[tootiecakes234]

“Hey Katsuki”, you scream from the your bedroom.

“What” he yells back at you from somewhere else in the house.

“Where ya at?”

“In the game room.”

So you get up and head that way. When you enter he’s sat in his gaming chair with his headset on.

“Hey bub…. Hey guys” you say loud enough to be heard through his headset.

“Yea yea. They all said hey.” You knew Kirishima and Kaminari were on the other end. Maybe even Mina too cuz she wasn’t texting you back.

“Kit-Kat, I’m getting hungry. Do you know what sounds really good for dinner?”

“What?” he questions without taking his eyes off the screen.

You walk behind him and slide your arms around his neck and nuzzle into the back of his head. You’re trying to butter him up because you know he’s not gonna wanna make what you’re craving.

“You remember those dumplings you made from scratch a while ago?” You ask with your voice dripping in as much sweetness you can muster.

“No.”

“No you don’t remember or no you’re-“

And he interrupt you before you can even finish. “No im not cooking that. There are frozen dumplings in the fridge.”

“But Sukiiiiii, those aren’t as good as the ones you make. The flavors aren’t the same and yours are so crispy and doughy. Pleaaasseee.”

“Hey you assholes shut the hell up. No ones talking to you.” He responds to his friends in the headset. “You want her to have ‘em, bring your ass over and make ‘em”

“I’m not doing this. You idiots hold on.” And he pauses the game and turns around to face you and removes his head set.

“Look we can order takeout if you want, but I’m not about to make freakin dumplings from scratch cuz you have a craving. I’d have to go to the store and get ingredients and taking the time to make the wrappings. ‘S too much.” He tries to explain to you in a rational way .

“I knooowww…. I’d go to the store with you though and I’ll help you make them…. Pretty please” you whine and stick you lowere lip out just a little with your eyes as pleading as you can make them.

Katsuki rolls his eyes and throws his head back.

“You don’t get whatever you want just because you pout at me. Spoiled ass. Not today. Maybe sometime later this week.”

You didn’t actually think he’d tell you no. He usually never does. Maybe you are spoiled. Still makes you sad though.

So you put on your big girl pants, tuck your lip back in and give him a soft “ok” before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips so he knows you’re not upset with him.

He is allowed to say no.

“Is Mina on the game with you guys?” You ask him when you pull back.

“Yeah she is.”

“When you get back on can you tell her to stop being a bitch and answer my phone call. I have tea to spill.”

“I’ll tell her.”

And with that you head toward the door and leave.

Once you’re back in your room it takes Mina about 3 minutes to call you and you start catching her up on everything.

You guys stay on the phone for about 30 minutes before she has to go.

After that, you bury yourself in the blankets and start reading the manga you had lying on your nightstand.

Before you can really get into it, Katsuki is walking into your room and going into the closet.

“Get your ass outta bed and get dressed before I change my goddamn mind.”

“What?” You ask because now you’re confused.

“You said you were gonna go to the store with me to buy all this shit so get your ass up and let’s go.”

“Kats you don’t have to, it’s fine.”

“Look ya spoiled brat, if I gotta tell you to get up one more time we are gonna be in here fightin.”

And the smile that breaks out on your face. You hurry and get outta bed and rush him. “Awwwww my sweet boy”

“I swear to god, I’m this close to letting your ass starve.”

And you wrap your arms around him and start kissing everywhere on his face. When you pulled away he has a deep frown on his face but you can see the sparkle in his eyes that he gets when you’re super happy.

You pull away and scurry off to get dressed.

He really needs to start saying no to you and meaning it before you really lose the understanding of the word.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99

*if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know💕

[leaawrites]

Freaked Out

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando makes his relationship official via Live stream

Warnings: mentions of an engagement, use of Y/n

Masterlist

The lights were low. There was no sound but the breathing in sync of two people deep into thoughts. Two hours went by of lying in the same bed with no eyes closed.

“Are you sure you want to stay with me?” Lando asked, his hand gliding through the hair of the person beside him. She hummed, snuggling deeper into his chest. Inhaling his scent like it would be the last time. “I mean, are you really sure? You can’t walk with me around all holding hands and you have to put up with all those stupid rumors about a life you know ain’t true.”

“Lando,” she mused, propping her head on her hands and looking up at him. “I’ve put up with all this for god knows how long. This doesn’t change anything.” His eyes lingered on her hand a little longer, smiling at the shimmering light reflecting on the diamond.

“Two and a half years,” he said, reminding her on how long they’ve been together. Still surprised at how long they got to keep their relationship in private, away from the media and all of those people around them.

It might seem rather fast, but nothing ever felt as right as asking her to marry him. Nothing ever made him feel so sure of himself as when she said yes. The reminder that he had someone who loved him. The knowing that someone was willing to put up with him forever. It made him feel safe.

“Are you sure you wanna keep it a secret? Keep us a secret?” Lando asked, playing with the ring on her finger.

“I’ll be yours in silence for however long you want me to,” she said, laying her head back down, soothing his chest with kisses.

Lando didn’t answer, he couldn’t. There was never a moment when he didn’t want to just post a pic of the two kissing or making put or whatever it is that will make everyone know that he was a happy man with her. But he knew it wouldn’t work that way. There will always be some crazy fans, offended at the though of him having a future with anyone but them. He felt guilty for not showing her off like he’d want to. It weighed him down day by day, though he knew it was worth it. When he came home from a race weekend and wanted nothing but held, he knew her arms would already be open as he walked through the door. She was everything he wanted. She was more than he deserved.

Being a man, chronically online, Lando knew about almost every trend going around the world. No exception for the one McLaren just posted with Oscar as their star in the spotlight.

“Hey guys,” Lando spoke into the phone as he walked into the living room of his home in Monaco. His girlfriend didn’t look up, already used to him walking around the apartment when he talked on the phone with someone. “Can you watch my girlfriend while I set my sim up?”

Lando placed the phone on the coffee table, camera facing his girlfriend who worked on something on her laptop. At the familiar sentence structure, she looked up, her head following the boy, who walked into his game room.

“What the-” she started saying, before being cut off by Lando putting his head out of the room.

“You can’t swear, I’m still a PR-nightmare, you can’t be one as well,” he yelled out to her, before disappearing again.

“Hello?” The girl said, looking at the screen in front of her. At first she thought it was a normal video, though soon enough she saw the endless comments of unknown people flood the screen. Her eyes widen at the sudden realization of what just happened. “You’re live? Are you kidding me?” She yelled at the boy, who burst out laughing in the other room. He came rushing out, snatching his phone back and reading through the comments of very surprised fans, to say the least.

“Sorry, guys. Sorry,” Lando spoke to the people, still giggling at his little prank and his girlfriends grimace. “Not my girlfriend.”

That made her look at him, a mischievous look in his eyes as he smirked, looking at her and not the screen which was filled with freaked out people. Some saying, “Good lord, thank god. I just had a heart attack, thinking he really cheated on me.” And some saying, “That’s sad, she’s really pretty.”

“My fiancee,” he corrected himself, smiling at her. The girl in front of him, couldn’t help her own smile forming on her lips. Then he ended the live, leaving the people shocked and the world stuck in questions.

“What have you done, Norris?” Y/n asked, pulling her fiance down on the sofa with her.

“I’m not hiding you anymore,” he simply said, snuggling in the nape of her neck and peppering it with small, soft kisses.

[obsesssedblerd]

oh, the idea of satoru attempting to get his hands on you numerous times throughout the day but keeps getting interrupted (bc y’know, he’s a busy sorcerer) and then finally snapping because he’s so pent up that he can’t think about anything other than fucking you makes me giggle. 

smut under the cut. MDNI. also, barely proof-read so sorry for mistakes lol.

----

You squeal with excitement when you hear the door to the apartment unlock. Satoru was home. Finally, he was back after spending two weeks away on business. The moment you see just a glimpse of his white hair, you rush towards him and wrap him in a tight hug, him lowering his Infinity just in time to scoop you off of your feet. You're hit with the scent of his cologne, the feel of his soft hair underneath your fingers, and you sigh in relief. Finally.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he greets with his usual smirk as your legs wrap around his waist. “Miss me?” 

He kisses you before you can respond, so you settle for humming into his mouth. He walks you both over to the living room, gently setting you on the couch before climbing on top of you. Your hands fumble with his jacket, and he helps you out by taking it off. He breaks away from your mouth to start doting messy kisses down your neck and collarbone. “Mmm, fuck. Missed you too,” he says, his voice deep with lust. “Been wanting this for so long, baby.” 

His phone vibrates, and he ignores it, deciding to focus on pulling your shirt up instead. When it continuously vibrates with multiple calls, he sighs irritatedly and pulls it from his pocket to see Yaga’s name on the screen.  

You giggle from underneath him, pulling your shirt back down and sitting up. “I think you should get that.” 

“This isn’t over,” he promises. He gets up and answers the phone, holding it up to his ear. “This better be important. …Huh?! I just got back from a mission, what the hell do you mean the higher-ups want to talk?!” 

— — — — 

“Alright, you all. That’s it for today,” you conclude your lesson with a clap, and the second years begin to gather their things. “Geto will meet you all in the field so you can have a lesson that’s a bit more active. Have fun!” 

They all express their excitement, then make their way outside of the classroom. They pass Satoru on the way out, who had just arrived only a few minutes before the end of your lesson. “Yeah, yeah, what she said. Hey, Okkotsu!” 

“Yes?” Yuta calls back. 

“Remember to—” 

“Work on that cursed energy control. Yeah, I got it,” the boy groans. 

You shake your head with a tiny laugh as Satoru shuts the door to the classroom. “I swear, Yuta is trying his best. He’s— Whoa!” 

Your back suddenly hits the wall, and Satoru is in front of you. His blindfold is raised, and you see the utter hunger pooling in his blue eyes before he’s kissing you, similar to the way he did that morning. You moan into his mouth, and your arms come up to wrap around his neck. “Mmm, fuck. T-Toru, we’re—” 

“Shhhhh,” he hushes against your lips. “Didn’t I tell you that this wasn’t over?” His hand begins to trail further down your body, eager fingers hurriedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Just try to be as quiet as possible, baby. I’ll be quick. Gonna make you feel so good—” 

He’s cut off with a knock at the door. “Gojo, are you in here?” 

Nanami.

“Busy!” He yells, a bit on the harsher side. 

“You’re with [Y/L/N] right now. Her lesson with the second years just ended. You do know that around this time, you’re supposed to be training the first years, right?” 

Satoru looks at the clock at the wall, then winces. It’s true, but still, he desperately needed you, otherwise he thought that he’d explode. “Just tell them I’m—” 

“Can’t. They’re right here with me,” Kento says flatly. “They’ve been waiting for at least half an hour.”

You hear Yuuji’s excited voice next. “Hey, Gojo-sensei! How was your mission?!” 

“Itadori, no need to shout. Seriously, we’re all right here,” Megumi grumbles.

“I’m with Fushiguro on this one,” Nobara comments. 

Satoru groans into your shoulder, and his fist hits the wall. Unable to take his strength, it caves, leaving a nice-sized hole next to the chalkboard. You stifle a laugh. Thank goodness that this wasn’t your classroom and you were only borrowing it.

He inhales sharply, then masks his annoyance and sexual frustration with a smile. “Alright! Be out in a second!” He calls out to them.

He sees you laughing into your hand, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “Just wait ‘till later.”

— — — — 

‘Later’ was far later than Satoru had hoped. After training the first years, Yaga talked to him about the next exchange event and how they were behind on planning, and then he had to shadow the second years on a mission that lasted what felt like forever.

You’re back in the apartment, humming as you finish tidying up the living room. You grab the basket of laundry, sit down, and begin folding towels. It was close to eight in the evening. You’re about to grab your phone to check on Satoru when you hear the door opening. 

“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think that I’d have to come and help out,” you say without looking up. “I mean, yeah, the curse was lower-ranked, but sometimes the second years—” You cut yourself off with a surprised scream as Satoru effortlessly hoists you with one arm, puts you over his shoulder and walks in the direction of your bedroom. Once you’re in there, he lightly tosses you on the bed, then yanks off his blindfold. His eyes are dark with a mixture of the hunger you saw earlier, and frustration.

“No more bullshit,” he says as he climbs over you, gathering your wrists and pinning them above your head. “If someone else interrupts, I might just hollow purple them.” When he kisses you, it’s far more intense than he’s ever kissed you today. His tongue explores your mouth, and you moan from the dizzying, yet pleasurable sensation. It’s not long before you’re both panting. His hands grip your shirt, and the sound of fabric tearing fills your ears. You gasp, your mouth falling open in shock when the scraps of your shirt as well as your bra are tossed aside. 

Satoru is breathing hard above you, nearly drooling as he stares at your upper body, his white hair beautifully framing his face. He dives in and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. Your back arches off of the bed when you feel his tongue swirl around the sensitive bud, and you whine his name needily. He moans, alternating between using his teeth to leave gentle love bites on your tits and using his tongue on your nipples. It’s messy, greedy, and you don’t ever want it to stop.

Finally, he kisses further down your stomach, pulling down your leggings along with your panties and tossing them to the bedroom floor. He spreads your thighs, then licks a long stripe up your pussy, a loud, shameless groan of relief escaping him when he finally tastes you. “Oh, fuck, I’ve missed you so much, baby,” he sighs, and he smiles devilishly up at you as he readjusts his hold on your thighs. “Think this pussy missed me just as much, if not more. She’s fucking soaked.” 

He only gives you a split second to take a breath to prepare yourself, then he’s devouring you as if he were poisoned and the antidote was inside of your pussy. His tongue swipes expertly across your folds, then it flicks against your clit. You bury your hands into your hair as pleasure zips through your body, the rest of the world fading away until all that’s left is you and Satoru. “Toru- Ohhhhh shit, baby. Fuck-” You gasp desperately when he gently sucks your clit into his mouth. He’s moaning loudly, drunk off of the taste of your pussy and from the feeling of you pulling his hair. 

You grind your hips against his face when you feel a knot beginning to form in your lower stomach, your breath stuttering as it tightens. You knew that this orgasm was going to blow any orgasm you gave yourself during the last two weeks while he was away on business completely out of the water. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you manage to tell him in between pants. “Oh, god, Toru, right there, right there, right there-” You feel your body begin to clench, ready to release. 

But then, Satoru stops. 

You whine frustratedly as your orgasm fades away before you could reach it, looking down at your boyfriend in between your thighs, who’s smiling deviously. “That was for laughing at me earlier,” he says after licking the rest of your juices off of his lips. “Not so funny now, is it?””

On a normal day, you’d be stubborn and attempt to piss him off, but today was different. Your head rests on the pillow, and your chest rises and falls with every pant, groaning in defeat. “Satoru, please,” you beg, keeping your voice as low as possible so he doesn’t hear the utter desperation. 

Satoru feigns confusion, and you see the pure delight in his eyes. Little shit. “Sorry, baby, what was that?” he asks. 

“Please,” you repeat louder. “Make me cum.” 

He hums as he pulls off his shirt. “I’ll think about it.” He stands up, and you sit up to help him with his pants, eager to taste him and take his cock down your throat. You pull his underwear down, and he stops you when he catches onto what you’re doing. “Another time, baby. Right now, I just really need to fuck you.” He kisses you once, and you moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. “It’s been too long. Lay back.” 

You lie back on the mattress, and he grabs your legs to gently pull you towards the edge of the bed, then places them on his shoulders. He slides his cock in, and the both of you moan in relief. Satoru doesn’t waste any time and starts fucking you fast, which you two needed. Being separated for two weeks on top of the usual stress of missions and teaching was horrible for you both. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Satoru moans loudly, not caring if anyone else heard, his eyes practically rolling into his head from the pleasure. “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good.” 

He slows the speed of his thrusts, but intensifies them by going harder, the salacious sounds of his hips meeting yours filling the room. Satoru looks down at you, taking in the o-shape of your mouth, your closed eyes and the way you're gripping the bedsheets as you whimper his name. He has to bite the inside of his mouth so he doesn’t cum too quickly. 

“Sat- Satoru,” you moan out deliriously as you open your eyes, gasping when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot. “Fuck, you’re- Ah- so deep.” Tears blur your vision, and your boyfriend chuckles as he leans down closer to you, his thrusts relentless. Satoru kisses your cheek, then uses a thumb to wipe away a tear. 

“Aw,” he coos condescendingly into your ear. “You cryin’?” 

Your nails drag down his back, and he reaches in between where your bodies are connected to rub gentle circles on your clit. You feel that knot begin to form again, far more intense than before since you were edged earlier. “F-Fuck, Toru, I-” You’re cut off when his mouth meets yours for another messy kiss. He continues rubbing your clit, and you whimper behind his lips. He groans when your pussy begins to tighten around his cock. You grip his shoulders to steady yourself as your breathing begins to come out in short bursts. 

“Let go, baby, it’s okay,” Satoru purrs into your ear. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.” 

Your legs tense, your toes curl, and stars fill your vision as your orgasm takes you by force. You’re screaming his name as your body trembles, and Satoru murmurs encouragement into your ear as he fucks you through it. “Thaaaat’s it, pretty girl,” you hear, then he groans, also so close to finishing, his thrusts growing sloppy. “Fuck, baby...”

Though you’re dizzy from your orgasm, you muster enough focus to kiss him. You stroke his face, lovingly run a hand through his hair, then wrap your legs around his waist to bring him in even closer, encouraging him to give everything to you. You wanted him to cum—needed him to. The kiss and the faint pulsing of your pussy pushes him over the edge, and Satoru moans loudly into your mouth as he stills, spilling his thick load deep within you and coating your walls. He cums hard, his grip on you tightening as he breathes heavily. Finally, he collapses, but is careful not to crush you with his weight. 

Both of you are silent for a moment, remaining with each other as you mellow in the aftershocks of your orgasms. “Shit,” Satoru breathes out with a small laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. I thought I blacked out for a second.” 

You laugh with him, then press a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome home.” 

“Happy to be back. Missed you like crazy. Can’t believe I had to wait all day for that.” 

“Missed you too, and same here, but you gotta admit, it was funny.” 

Satoru tenderly smiles down at you, and your heart stutters at the sight of it. You were always weak for that specific smile. “It was, but, uh… you wanna know something else that might be funny?” 

“Hm?” 

“We broke the bed.” 

“....What?”

----

a/n: I just had to add "the" line lol. I couldn't resist.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Emotional Range Of A Teaspoon | Pierre Gasly

Summary: What right does he have to feel angry at the sight of Y/N and Charles? The answer is none. After all, she's only his best friend. Isn't she?

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Fluff. Jealousy. One suggestive comment

No faceclaim but British reader. 2024 timeline

F1 Masterlist

Requested: Yes (sorry it's a little late)

This one actually comes with a tiny text paragraph mid-way through

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Replies to @ PierreGASLY

Charles_Leclerc c’mon mate, it’s only been two days 

→ PierreGASLY a whole lifetime 

→ ItsYN i can’t even remember what you look like 

→ Charles_Leclerc and the people say that i am the dramatic one 

AlpineF1Team think you can channel that pain into some points this weekend?

→ PierreGASLY why aren’t you taking my pain seriously 

→ AlpineF1Team do you want us to schedule you an appointment with the counsellor?

→ ItsYN i don’t think that counsellor gets paid enough to listen to him

User1 ouch, talk about friendzoned 

→ User2 no, no, they’re in the denial stage of their friends to lovers arc

Replies to @ ItsYN

PierreGASLY i can still hear your voice

→ PierreGASLY although i’m glad you’re not making me suffer through the lost boys again

→ ItsYN okay first off, you love that movie. and second, because of that, i’m telling everyone you cried watching cars 3

→ PierreGASLY traitor!

→ LiamLawson30 as any man would!

Charles_Leclerc don’t worry y/n, i’ll have movie night with you 

→ ItsYN are you going to make me watch harry potter again?

→ Charles_Leclerc yes..?

→ ItsYN @ PierreGASLY come back please 

Replies to @ Charles_Leclerc

User3 not charles tweeting this the day after the canadian gp. y/n missed the canadian gp and you can tell poor charles had to hear all about it 

ItsYN we all know i would be the soldier and pierre would be the doting housewife crying on the platform 

→ PierreGASLY and i would look radiant doing so

Max33Verstappen he wouldn’t shut up about her during the driver’s parade. i tried to walk off and he followed me!

→ PierreGASLY i was in the middle of a sentence!

→ danielricciardo mate you know it’s bad when yapstappen needs you to stop talking

ItsYN stop talking about me. you're making it sound like we're friends

→ Charles_Leclerc excuse me but you know you want to be my bestie

→ PierreGASLY you can’t have her. she’s mine. i saw her first. shotgun or whatever you monagasques say for dibs 

→ GeorgeRussell63 actually i saw her first; her brother was my teammate when we were kids so 

→ PierreGASLY and just for that, i’m unfollowing you 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Replies to @ CHICKEN!!

User4 whoever took this photo needs to go straight to jail. not y’all making it seem like charles and y/n are a sneaky item

User5 i knew she was shady, talking about how she couldn't make it only to end up in the winning driver’s garage 

PierreGASLY oh 

→ User6 wait no, pierre, come back. look at other tweets about this please

User7 stop being a shit stirrer. he’s literally got his other arm wrapped around alex ‘cause he was guiding the two of them through a ton of fans but that’s conveniently been cropped out 

Replies to @ BRAKKEEE

User8 i can’t believe people were trying to convince us ynarles was real when it’s clearly ynex

User9 love that charles was literally only there to keep them safe from fans and after that they were like ‘you’re done babe. now we run off into the sunset’ 

User10 watching him chase after them was so funny tho because he was literally yelling “let me play too” 

Replies to @ ItsYN

User11 oh no, we’re so sorry. we were just so happy to see you 

→ User12 yeah and pierre would’ve been happy to see her as well if you hadn’t blasted her all over the internet 

→ User13 pierre didn't exactly look all that happy though. he wouldn’t stop glaring at poor charles  

→ User12 maybe because you guys made it seem like his best friend lied to him to be with charles

Thumb aimlessly swiping at the screen of his phone, Pierre scanned the tweets as they passed, making note of a cute waffle shop in Monaco that he knew Y/N would love. Nothing of note appeared to have been posted as most of the Grid were waiting to hear where Sainz had signed. Hand halting, Pierre’s eyes flickered across the screen once. Twice. And then a third time just to be sure. His last message to Y/N had gone unanswered and now there was a picture of her on Twitter, claiming to be from today. With Charles’ arm around her. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, and a derisive scoff filled his driver’s room. What happened to being unable to book the time off work, he thought bitterly to himself. Instead she was in the Paddock with a red-clad arm wrapped around her. Before he could restrain himself, he had clicked on the ‘reply’ button. A knock at the door pulled him from his downward spiral, preventing him from looking further into the comments gushing about how cute his best friend and closest F1 friend looked as a couple. 

“Pierre, time to warm up.”

“D’accord.”

He locked his phone before dumping it onto the massage table, storming out of his driver’s room, unaware that if he had scrolled down another two posts, he would’ve seen a picture of Y/N with Alexandra and a tweet from the woman herself. 

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ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, estebanocon and others

ItsYN an amazing weekend in barcelona watching my best friend do his thing and achieve some well-deserved points. a huge thank you to charles and alex for helping me sneak into the paddock last-minute tagged: pierregasly, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux 

553 comments

alpinef1team our favourite things rolled into one post 

→ ItsYN mine too! 

→ User1 sis, get off the floor 

estebanocon should i be offended that you wearing my cap didn’t make the post 

→ ItsYN shh i can’t have my people thinking i have friends other than pear 

danielricciardo PIERRE GASSLLLYYYYY

→ ItsYN go thirst over him on his posts. my insta is a 310 free zone

→ danielricciardo just admit that you’re jealous of our love and move on

→ ItsYN was he publicly crying over missing YOU? i don’t think so 

→ danielricciardo that’s because i’m a better friend than you and i’ve been here the whole time

→ ItsYN blocked 

alexandrasaintmleux thank you for trusting me with the surprise! 

→ ItsYn thank you for being so wonderful and helping 🩷 (and stopping charles from throttling me)

→ charles_leclerc it’s because you wouldn’t stop saying thank you and asking me if i was “sure that it’s no bother” to help you 

→ It’sYN sorry for being considerate! 

User2 not to be that person but has anyone else noticed that pierre hasn’t commented?

→ User3 i'm getting the feeling that, despite all his online complaining, he wasn’t overly excited to see his best friend this weekend? 

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User4 not the f1wags posting her, they know the truth

→ User5 what truth. it doesn’t look they’re even friends anymore

User7 it’s the way she looks like she’s trying to explain/talk to him and he’s just yelling at her 

→ User8 i used to root for them to get together but now that he’s yelled at her :/

User9 y/n is stronger than me because if a man pointed his finger like that at me, i’d savagely bite it off 

User10 uh, who does he think he is talking to y/n l/n that way

User11 i bet it’s because he thought y/n was there for charles and got jealous 

→ User12 i’ve connected the dots

→ User13 you ain’t connected shit

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User14 idk which one i want to be more

→ User15 that’s because you want to be their third instead 

User16 i’m thirsty. anyone else thirsty

LandoNorris oh god my eyes

→ danielricciardo this is why you should stop looking at x rated things on the internet 

→ User17 what happened to your pr training?

→ Charles_Leclerc what happened to pierre’s?

User18 if only he could transfer this kind of passion onto the track 

User19 uh, the clarity of the third one?? did admin take this and then leak it online? 

→ AlpineF1Team i'm afriad that we’re finding out along with you guys but we’re not gonna pretend like we weren’t rooting for this 

ItsYN why am i trending on twitter?

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ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe and others

ItsYN my little pain au chocolat 💕

845 comments

pierregasly we talked about you calling me pastries 

→ ItsYn yes, we did. and i didn’t take into account anything you said

→ pierregasly you are very lucky you're cute

→ ItsYN it's gotten me far in life

User1 talk about a hard launch

→ User2 they weren’t really given the choice considering they were caught snogging all over barcelona last weekend

alpinef1team pierre repping the alpine colours 

→ ItsYN release your chokehold on my man

→ alpinef1team no, you release your chokehold on our man 

→ ItsYN what happened to being supportive of this?

→ alpinef1team that was before all he did was yap about you!

lilymhe babe, this isn’t you. get up and come back to me 

→ ItsYN i’m sorry but i don’t think i can come back from this 

→ lilymhe what about us, what about everything we’ve been through

→ ItsYN you know i never wanted to hurt you

→ alex_albon @ pierregasly guess i’ll be seeing you at the next karaoke marathon 

→ pierregasly only if you sing breaking free with me

→ ItsYN this is why i love you

landonorris let’s take a moment for our fallen soldier… we lost an honourable brit to a french man

→ pierregasly it’s not my fault that i have charm and you don’t 

→ danielricciardo i didn’t realise charm meant having a tantrum when she asks your friend for help to surprise you 

→ pierregasly we agreed not to speak of that! 

→ ItsYN i don’t think you’re living this one down, macaron

charles_leclerc can you tell him to put his clothes back on, please

→ ItsYN i tried but he seems incapable of keeping them on around me

→ pierregasly charles is just jealous of my amazing physique 

→ charles_leclerc best you not talk about jealousy 

User4 @ ItsYN i love that they’ve not had a chance to pr train you yet

→ ItsYN never! 

User5 and they called me crazy when i said friends to lovers! 

→ ItsYN tbf hun, so did we. it took us a minute

→ User6 so pierre is slow on and off the track 

→ pierregasly hey! 

pierregasly just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and others

pierregasly from movie nights to drunken karaoke, i would go on any adventure with you 

1,454 comments

ItsYN my best friend and my love 

→ alexandrasaintmleux i thought i was your best friend 

→ ItsYN i’m not allowed to post shirtless pics of you online though

→ charles_leclerc no you are not! 

→ User7 i hope pr never got ahold of her

→ alpinef1team she has an appointment with them on thursday

yukitsunoda0511 is this what they call simping?

→ pierregasly no

→ ItsYN yes

maxverstappen1 does this mean you’ll stop talking about her during driver’s parades?

→ pierregasly no 

→ yukitsunoda0511 he’ll just stop talking about whether she’s interested in any of us 

→ ItsYN he did that?

→ pierregasly no!

→ maxverstappen1 yes, the latest victim was logan

→ charles_leclerc actually i was the latest victim, and i will remain the most famous. my jealousy era is forever captured on the internet 

→ logansargeant @ pierregasly is that why you kept asking me what i thought about her?

landonorris you guys are kinda cute when you’re not yelling at her 

→ ItsYN please stop saying this. i'm the one who has to listen to him apologise over and over for the millionth time

→ pierregasly because i feel bad! 

→ ItsYN omg i know! 

danielricciardo mate, we get it. she’s your girl now but you can let go of her for two seconds. she’s not going to disappear

→ pierregasly it’s called a healthy attachment

→ ItsYN he says whilst cuddled into my neck and following me to the bathroom

lilymhe she’s so hot, drop me her @ please

→ pierregasly back off

→ ItsYN i’m right here bby girl. let me take out on a date 

→ charles_leclerc careful lily or he might start yelling at you next 

alpinef1team we’ve been asked by an anonymous source that you all refrain from discussing previous events. reparations have been made and it’s been advised that such an event remain in the past 

→ danielricciardo lol he ran to mom

→ landonorris anonymous source, my ass. just tag him

→ georgerussell63 this is so lame

→ alex_albon mate, this is more obvious than pierre’s jealousy 

→ charles_leclerc even i cannot support him through this 

→ ItsYN i love you, my little croissant, but i cannot pretend that this is normal

→ pierregasly ultimate betrayal

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Sorry if this wasn’t angst enough. Humour and fluff are more my forte.

As always, F1 requests open for the current grid and retired drivers.

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury

(A huge thank you to both of you for wanting to be added to all f1 posts. It means a lot)

[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th��� fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

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the subtle art of swinging

summary: park sunghoon is the spider-man. he's also your best friend. he's also hopelessly in love with you. between fighting crime and intercepting alien invasions, park sunghoon barely has the time to confess his feelings to you. lucky for him, you've got him covered.

or, five times park sunghoon tries to ask you out, and one time you ask him out instead.

pairing: spider-man!park sunghoon x fem!reader genres: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers!au, spider-man!au, college!au, attempts at comedy, idiots to idiots in love, 5 + 1 things word count: 5.0k

⇢ warnings: profanity, mentions of violence but absolutely nothing graphic ⇢ a/n: reposted from my old blog.

ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF SWINGING INTO A WALL

Park Sunghoon swears he isn’t trying to be stupid. 

It’s just that when he sees you, his mouth dries up, the words he want to say get stuck on the tip of his tongue and he can’t force them out no matter what, he feels his brain turn to mush and his legs turn to jelly, and—

You’re laughing. At him.

All because he swung face-first into a goddamn brick wall.

You don’t even know it’s him—he has a mask made out of spandex covering his face, thankfully—but he saw you on the street, talking to the old lady who sells churros next to the sandwich place both of you love. He may have lost all directional sense after that, because one minute he’s watching you gesture animatedly while you converse with the shopkeeper, and the next he slams solidly into the brick-red compound of the building he was supposed to swing over.

At least his webbing is still intact.

Sunghoon’s pride, on the other hand? Completely, utterly shattered.

For a minute, there’s silence—a sort of muffled, hazy silence that blankets everyone, the kind that’s impossibly rare to come by in a city which never sleeps—and then every single person whips out their phones and takes pictures, giggling to themselves throughout. It’s not every day Spider-Man accidentally swings into a wall, after all.

Sunghoon can already picture the headlines: City’s Masked Superhero Can Fight Aliens But Is Apparently Blind When Confronted By A Gigantic Barricade. Or worse. He can hear J. Jonah Jameson’s voice in his head, bellowing into the cameras, “Breaking news everyone, this just in: Spidey has been caught lackin’! Is he truly good at his job or is he just a farce? We may never know.”

He peels his head off hard brick, contorting his neck to relieve all the cricks, and that’s when he makes direct eye contact with you.

He swears his heart stops beating—but it starts again in less than a second, starts rabbiting around like it always does when he sees you, before settling back down into its regular rhythm. It’s only then that he remembers his feet and fingers are still glued to the wall.

He pries them off, wincing at the hoots and hollers from the crowd, and glances at you again. 

You have a few churros in your hand, wrapped neatly in butter paper—no doubt a gift from the old lady—and you have your phone in your hand. He watches your fingers fly rapidly over the screen, notices the slight tilt to your head, the way your tongue pokes out of your lips slightly, the amusement at his mishap still running through your veins.

He hears the ping of the notification through his mask before you even put your phone down. 

The letters swim in front of his eyes, on the screen in front of him.

(11:36) Y/N: HOONIE!!!! u wont BELIEVE what i just saw!!!! I SAW SPIDERMAN CRASH INTO A WALL LMFAOOOO

Sunghoon winces. He should probably tell you that there’s a hyphen separating the words ‘spider’ and ‘man’, but he doesn’t want to burst your obvious elation at the city’s most prominent superhero’s accident. (Despite the fact that you’re the cause for him losing all 

common sense, in the first place.)

He doesn’t get the chance to form another coherent thought before a yell from below gets his attention. Specifically because it’s your voice.

“Hey!” You have your hands placed on your waist, your bundle of churros tucked into the corner of your arm as you squint up at him. “Need some help getting down?”

Unlike the jeers of the onlookers with their phones still out, you don’t sound malicious at all. You sound genuinely concerned, as though he isn’t Spider-Man, who’s fought off a hundred different villains and rescued the earth from alien infestations. You talk to him like he’s just a regular guy who accidentally swung onto a building and now finds himself in this precarious position.

His chest warms at the thought. “No thanks!” he hollers back. “I’m good.”

He lets his feet loosen up, feels his muscles relax and then he pushes himself off the wall, letting the momentum pull him through a graceful somersault before he lands softly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” You ignore the passersby.

“I’m fine,” Sunghoon replies. “Are you okay?”

You look at him strangely, and Sunghoon can feel his cheeks heat up. “I’m not the one who almost broke my nose because I wasn’t looking at where I was going.”

Sunghoon shifts from one foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You have a point, he supposes. He clears his throat. “Right, um. Thanks for offering to help me out.”

“No problem,” you reply easily, the corners of your lips rising upwards. “I’m glad you’re okay. Can’t have our city’s best line of defence get obliterated because of a wall.”

Sunghoon’s not sure whether he’s supposed to feel happy about the fact that you’re worried about him despite not knowing who he is or if he’s supposed to be embarrassed at you pointing out his lapse of attention.

“Listen,” he begins, feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through his veins, run its course throughout his body, and settle at his heart, “do you… maybe want to get some coffee with me? As a thank you. For offering to help.”

You raise an eyebrow sceptically. “I’m not sure that warrants a coffee date.”

“It’s not,” Sunghoon hurriedly says, heart thumping erratically, “I swear. I just want to thank you.”

You purse your lips, drawing out a sigh that’s in between contemplation and refusal. Sunghoon’s heart sinks—he knows that expression of yours all too well. “I’m sorry, Spider-Man. You’re a great superhero and I’m sure you’re a really nice person behind the mask, but… I’m actually running late for a meet-up with my best friend. I’m sorry.” You shrug apologetically. “Maybe next time.”

“Okay, uh—” Sunghoon licks his lips— “n-no worries. I’ll see you around.”

“Break a leg, Spider-Man.” You salute him with two fingers. “Not literally, but you know what I mean.”

He manages a smile, then realises you can’t see it through his mask—and then realises that the friend who’s meet-up you’re running late to is with him, so he’s going to see you again, anyway. The thought makes him smile again, this time wider, and he can feel his cheeks crinkle at the corners.

He stretches an arm out, presses his web shooter and swings onto the top of the building. Maybe he’ll have to deal with you retelling the story of how he crashed into a wall with extreme detail and lots of exaggeration, and Sunghoon should probably feel extremely embarrassed about it. Instead, he finds himself looking forward to it.

Maybe he should crash into walls more often.

TWO — THE SUBTLE ART OF ACCIDENTALLY ASKING YOUR PROFESSOR OUT

Park Sunghoon is decidedly fucked.

He’s late—unbearably so—but what else is he supposed to do if a platoon of aliens show up in the middle of his Introduction to Organic Chemistry class and he has to stop them from blowing up the president’s summer retreat? Once the situation is wrapped up and the foreign visitors agree to sign a peace treaty with earth, he’s effectively missed three classes, skipped lunch, and is currently running late to a study session you planned out after classes.

He supposes he can make up for it—he’s not sure how, but… something is better than nothing, right? He swings down in front of a flower shop, hurriedly asks for a bouquet and a box of chocolates, places a wad of money bills on the counter and swings away. The whole interaction takes place in less than fifteen minutes, but Sunghoon is in a hurry. He has a slew of texts from you, all detailing the same thing: That if he doesn’t magically appear in the next ten minutes, you’re leaving, and you better make it up to him somehow.

Sunghoon touches down on the rooftop of your university’s library and quickly removes his Spider-Man suit, stuffing it into his backpack and shouldering it. He heads down the fire escape, taking two steps at a time, and comes to a standstill in front of the Biology section of the library. It’s the least crowded part of the library, which is why you and Sunghoon have chosen it as your designated spot.

He sees you immediately and braces himself for the telltale quickening of his heart. You smile at him as soon as you spot him, raising a hand in greeting. Books and sheets of paper are scattered around the table in front of you, and your hair is messy, swept up hastily. You’re wearing your favourite sweater with the coffee stain down the front, because even though it’s not something you would wear in public, it’s still the most comfortable piece of clothing you own.

Sunghoon’s lips curl upwards on their own accord. The words form on the tip of his tongue, as they always do. He wants to tell you—he’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you—and it would be so easy to confess right then and there. He walks towards you.

Fate is never kind to him, it seems.

Sunghoon keeps his eyes fixed on you, which is why he doesn’t notice his Organic Chemistry professor walk right across him.

In his defence, Professor Kwon is short, with a head full of bountiful grey curls and a pink flower-patterned umbrella always tucked underneath her arm. She barely comes up to Sunghoon’s shoulders, so she’s never in Sunghoon’s line of vision unless he’s sitting down.

It’s no wonder he collides into her. 

Professor Kwon lets out a startled “Ooh!”, the stack of papers in her hand flying out of grip and falling around him and his teacher like snowflakes on a winter morning. She twists her lips at him, mouth downturned like she just sucked a lemon raw, and tuts disapprovingly at him.

Sunghoon feels his cheeks blaze as he bends down and gathers all the loose sheets of paper and stacks them. He doesn’t need to look at you to know you’re gleefully watching the whole encounter. He tucks the bouquet and chocolates into the crook of his arm and hands the stack of papers to Professor Kwon, mumbling an apology.

“Well, you better be sorry,” she says, looking up and down at him—except she has to crane her neck at him to meet his eyes, and the sight is so hilarious, Sunghoon needs to stifle his laughter. Then her eyes narrow in recognition, and Sunghoon stiffens, dread pooling in his stomach. 

She pauses for a minute. “Aren’t you the young man who ran out halfway through my class? Is your stomach feeling better now?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you snort and then cover it up as a cough. 

Sunghoon wants to melt into the floor, pretend like he’s one of the tiles on the ground. “Yes ma’am,” he answers politely instead, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him.

“Hmm.” She scrutinises him carefully, reaching out with her free hand and pinching his stomach. “Indigestion is a serious issue, young man. Make sure you have enough ginger in your diet—it helps with your toilet problems.”

“I will, ma’am.”

“Now, how do you plan to make up for your lost lesson?” 

Sunghoon licks his lips. “I’m… not sure, ma’am. I could come over for a remedial class—”

“Oh, please. You insult me.” Professor Kwon lets out a giggle. “Remedial classes are such mediaeval methods. These days teachers will let anything go for a small price. Young, handsome men like you especially…”

Sunghoon nearly chokes on his own spit. “I—”

“Just some flowers and chocolates will be fine,” his teacher waves him off good-naturedly, as though this is a conversation she has all the time. Her eyes land pointedly on the flowers and the chocolate box still tucked safely in his arms. 

“Oh. Um.” Sunghoon curses his luck. He’s Spider-Man, after all—shouldn’t he get some slack? All he wants is to ask you out, and if not that, at least spend some time with you without getting caught up in outworldly situations all the time. 

Professor Kwon’s expression turns serious upon noticing his hesitation. “Of course, not every teacher is as lenient as I’m being. Some would—and I’m really just throwing it out here—assign compensatory essays, or—”

He hurriedly shoves the bouquet and the chocolates into Professor Kwon’s waiting arms. 

“No, ma’am. Thank you very much for being so kind to me.”

“Not a bother, not a bother,” she waves him off again, smiling thinly at him. “Anything for my students.”

Sunghoon bows and waits patiently for her to skitter away from him, finally letting out a loose breath that has his shoulders slumping forward and his head hanging dejectedly. He drags himself to your table, places his bag on the desk, and buries his head into his arms in such a way that half his upper body is spread-eagled across the wooden desk. A tired, muffled groan escapes his lips.

“Rough day?” Your voice is soft, and you tentatively reach out and gently run a hand through his hair.

Sunghoon lets out another groan in response, closing his eyes when he feels your touch. He lifts up his head and props his chin on the desk, glancing at you. You have a soft smile playing on your lips, eyes twinkling.

“You recorded all of that, didn’t you?” It’s more a statement than a question; Sunghoon has all your tendencies mapped out in his head, and you would never pass up on an opportunity to record his humiliation.

“Yup.” You grin at him, patting your pocket where your phone is stowed away. “I won’t show it to anyone, don’t worry.”

It’s a small consolation. He decides to let it slide. “By the way, the flowers and the chocolates were for you. To apologise for being late.”

“Oh.” To Sunghoon’s surprise, you sound… bashful, almost. His heart skitters at the revelation. “That’s alright. I’m not a big fan of flowers anyway. Are you hungry? You skipped lunch, too, didn’t you? We could go get some ramen.”

“That sounds good.” Sunghoon smiles wearily at you. He just hopes there isn’t another national emergency to divert his attention from you and the time he gets to spend with you.

THREE — THE SUBTLE ART OF ALMOST DATING YOUR HOMIE

Sunghoon’s not sure his roommate, Lee Heeseung, is completely normal.

He’s the only one who knows about Sunghoon’s secret identity, and Sunghoon relies on him to make up some believable reason for his often and sudden disappearances. The last time, when he had to escape in the middle of his Organic Chemistry class and that whole debacle with Professor Kwon took place, Heeseung had said Sunghoon had indigestion. He assumes his roommate has fun coming up with excuses. As long as his secret remains safe, Sunghoon’s not too concerned.

Despite all the help Heeseung has provided him with, he wants nothing more than to toss him over their shared apartment’s balcony.

For the past half an hour, he’s been consistently badgering him. Specifically about you.

“Have you told her you like her yet?”

The question drags a tired sigh out of Sunghoon’s lips. He’s hunched over his Physics textbook, scribbling down notes, and he could really appreciate some peace—but that’s not something he should expect when he lives with the human equivalent of a hamster on a wheel.

“No, Heeseung,” he reiterates, “I haven’t had the time.”

Heeseung flops dramatically across the couch. “Dude. You need serious help.”

“Do I?” Sunghoon murmurs absent-mindedly, wondering how to calculate the coefficient of friction with the variables he’s been given.

“Yes.” When he notices his roommate not paying attention to him, Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Stop doing homework, you have more important matters to attend to.”

Sunghoon finally tears his tired gaze away from the numericals printed out on the page. He locks eyes with Heeseung, barely aware of the tic in his left eye. “Like what?”

His roommate throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Like Y/N! And the fact that you’re in love with her!”

“Okay.”

“This isn’t going to work. C’mere.” He gestures to Sunghoon to come sit next to him on the couch. Once he makes his way to the couch and sits next to him, Heeseung takes both his hands in his. “Consider this an intervention.”

Sunghoon leans back and lets his head fall against the couch cushions. This is going to be good.

“Okay, so,” Heeseung begins, “she doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man—no one knows that except me—but you love her, don’t you? Just walk up to her, tell her you can show her something she’s never seen before, swing her up to a rooftop somewhere, and watch the sunset with her. Tell her you love her and that you can’t live without her, and your heart beats only for her—trust me, girls love romantic stuff like that—and then tell her you’re also Spider-Man. Easy.”

All Sunghoon can do is laugh. There’s no way Heeseung is serious about this.

“I’m being serious,” Heeseung says. “How long are you going to keep hiding this from her? Y/N’s your best friend, don’t you think you should tell her that you’re basically in mortal peril every other day?”

“That’s exactly why I’m not telling her,” Sunghoon says. “What if some villain finds out she’s special to me and does something to her to get back at me?”

His friend looks dubious. “You really think that could happen?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon turns his head to look at Heeseung. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you either.”

Heeseung chews his lip thoughtfully. “I kind of see what you mean. But…” He squeezes Sunghoon’s hand once, gently. “It’s Y/N. I think she would want to know.”

Sunghoon considers it—for a brief half-minute, he actually thinks about it—and then shakes his head. “It’s better to keep her safe.”

You have the worst possible timing. (Perhaps it’s Sunghoon’s fault for having given you a spare key to his apartment.)

The door swings open and you walk into the living room, two bags of takeaway in your hand. “Guess who’s got food!”

Then you pause, survey the situation in front of you, and your jaw drops.

Sunghoon and Heeseung, both on the couch, sitting so close to each other, their knees are brushing. Sunghoon’s hands are still being held by Heeseung, the latter rubbing circles on his palm. Belatedly, Sunghoon realises what this must look like to you.

He shoots up to his feet. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Oh my God.” You raise your arms. “Am I interrupting something? I’m so sorry, I had no idea! I’ll just—”

“No, wait! Heeseung and I, we’re not—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Your repeated reassurances don’t do anything to assure him. “You guys look good together! Congratulations on graduating from cherry boy university, Hoon!”

Sunghoon lowers his head, crimson creeping up his cheeks. He turns around and faces Heeseung, who’s busy snickering on the couch. “This is all your fault.”

You look between them curiously. “Are you both dating?”

“No,” Sunghoon says at the same time Heeseung says, “Possibly.”

He glares at his friend. “No, Y/N, we are not together. Heeseung knows I like someone else.”

“You like someone else?”

There’s the barest hint of hurt in your tone, a slight hitch in your voice that Sunghoon picks up on easily. “I—yes.”

“You never told me.” 

Your voice is carefully calm and you fiddle with the handle of the takeaway bags. Sunghoon winces; he takes a step forward and grabs your elbow, gently forcing you to look up at him. “I was going to tell you. I just… forgot.”

It's the worst possible excuse he could come up with. Your eyes harden. Thankfully, Heeseung swoops in. “He’ll tell you soon, Y/N. He just never has good timing.”

You poke your tongue in the inside of your cheek. “It… doesn’t matter. I brought Chinese,” you say, lips pursed into a threadbare smile, “so all that’s left is to pick the movie.”

You move into the living room and playfully poke Heeseung’s legs to make space. Sunghoon closes the door behind you, a heavy feeling in his gut.

He’s fucked up. Big time. No matter what, he can’t get the look of dejectedness on your face out of his mind.

Sunghoon decides he’s going to tell you. Somehow. Even if you don’t return his feelings, at least he’ll be free of the burden of keeping them hidden. 

With new conviction in his head, he strides over to where you are.

FOUR — THE SUBTLE ART OF GETTING HIT ON

Sunghoon loves you—he really does—but despite his obvious affection towards you, he still thinks you’re acting slightly (read: extremely) delusional.

“A… Spider-Man love blog?” he asks weakly, sitting opposite you.

“Yeah!” You nod your head vigorously, obviously excited. “J. Jonah Jameson started a Spider-Man conspiracy theory blog, so I figured I need to start a blog to support Spider-Man and all his endeavours. Too much hate is a bad thing, and… well, he is kind of hot. Objectively speaking.”

Sunghoon doesn’t know whether to grimace at the fact that J. Jonah Jameson started a page on conspiracy theories about him, laugh at the fact that you want to start a blog to support him, or melt like an ice cream on a hot summer afternoon at the fact that you just called him objectively hot.

He tries to do a mixture of all three. You glance at him, concerned. “Did you just have a stroke or something?”

Sunghoon purses his lips together, going back to his usual deadpan expression. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you say dismissively. “Well, what do you think of the blog idea?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Sunghoon agrees. “It’s like a little Spider-Man support group. Except you aren’t suffering from addiction.”

“Exactly!” you agree, perking up even more. “That’s actually a really cool slogan, thanks Hoon.”

“No problem.” Sunghoon feels his mouth dry, but before he can second guess himself, he says, “Hey, you said Spider-Man is hot?”

“Hm? Yeah, what about it?”

“You know who else is hot?”

“Tom Holland?” Your eyes widen excitedly. “Oh, I know! Andrew Garfield!”

“No—I mean, yes but—” Sunghoon heaves out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t talking about them.”

You cock your head to the side. “Who do you mean, then?”

He takes in a deep breath, forcing his heart to calm down. “I was talking about—”

He’s about to say you when the fire alarm rings. You stand up, eyes widening—not with excitement, but with panic flaring up inside you. Sunghoon stands up too; how did he not notice something was off? The hair at the back of his neck tingles. He needs to get you out of here—now.

“Y/N,” he says hurriedly, “you need to leave. Go out the fire escape.” He shoves you none too gently towards the fire escape, but you stumble forward and then stop.

“Hoon,” you say, and he can hear the mounting fear in your voice, “what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he assures. A series of bangs follows his statement, and he narrows his eyes at the direction of the sound. “But you need to leave. Now.”

You open your mouth to say something, but when you hear a loud clang echo down the stairwell, you close your mouth and run towards the staircase. Sunghoon waits for you to disappear from his sight, before turning on his heel and grabbing his suit from his bag.

God, supervillains really have the worst timing. All Sunghoon wanted to do was tell you he thought you were hot, too, but that he found you more beautiful than anything else.

FIVE — THE SUBTLE ART OF EXPOSING YOUR CRUSH

Sunghoon is so, so tired.

He lands in front of a small, quiet lake in a park you used to come to with him. The ambience is perfect for when you want to spend time alone, in solitude. A family of ducks paddles gently over the water; it’s peaceful and serene—completely unlike the destruction he just had to deal with, and the  turbulence currently running through his mind.

He pulls his mask off his head and runs a tired hand through his hair. Wearily, he sinks down onto the grass, feeling the cool breeze caress his skin and the rustle of the leaves of the giant tree under whose shade he’s sitting.

He blinks once, slowly, and then again, and when a duck lets out a quack, he opens his mouth and lets everything spill out, like sand pouring through an overturned hourglass.

(He’s aware he’s talking to ducks. He doesn’t care.)

“Screw this shit. I never wanted to be a hero, you hear me? I never wanted to be bitten by a stupid spider, I didn’t ask for all this—I didn’t ask for all this! God, what does a guy need to do to have some time to tell his best friend he’s in love with her?!”

His rant falls on silent ears—but then, he hears the crunch of dried leaves, and he whips around.

Your head pokes out from behind the tree trunk. “Hoon?”

“Y/N,” he breathes out, scrambling to his feet. “What are you—”

“You said you’d be right behind me!” Despite the false bravado in your voice, he can hear how wobbly you actually sound.

“I-I was. Technically.” He takes a tentative step towards you, one arm stretched out placatingly.

“You never told me you were Spider-Man!” Your voice increases in pitch steadily with each word.

“I didn’t tell you to protect you—”

“Oh my God, you were in mortal peril every day and I didn’t even know!”

“Heeseung said the same thing, but—”

“Heeseung knew all along, of course he did!”

“I only told him because—”

“And—and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me!”

“Okay, I wasn’t telling you, I was telling the ducks, but—”

“Sunghoon!” You throw your hands up in the air wildly, gaze roaming rapidly across his face. “You’re in love with me!”

He sucks in a breath sharply. “I feel like that’s not the most important thing here.”

Of all the ways he thought he would confess to you, this is decidedly not something that crossed his mind even once. He’d always pictured flowers, holding your hand, maybe even a romantic stroll down this very park. He’d certainly never imagined you’d find out about both his secrets on the same day—all while he was busy ranting about his hero complex to a bunch of birds who didn’t pay him any attention.

“Y/N,” he tries again, “please let me explain.”

You shake your head. “No. There’s nothing there to explain.”

With that, you turn away and walk past him. Sunghoon’s heart sinks. He crumples the material of the mask in his hand, feeling the cloth twist underneath his fingertips just like his heart twists into knots with every step you take away from him.

PLUS ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF KISSING YOUR BEST FRIEND

You have Sunghoon cornered, your arms crossed across your chest and your expression stern. “You need to listen to me.”

Sunghoon gulps. It’s been a week since he accidentally let both his secrets slip, and this is the first time he’s talking to you in person since then. You’d sent him a text with a simple message. Library, first thing after lunch. Sunghoon had complied, and here he is now.

“So. Heeseung explained everything to me,” you say. 

“He—he did?”

You glance at him shortly. “Yeah, he did. I… I understand why you didn’t tell me about—about your condition, Hoon. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself.”

“It’s okay,” he replies immediately. “If I found out my best friend was a secret vigilante risking his life every day, I think I’d react the same way.”

You smile at him then, and his heart jumps inside his chest. He smiles back. “But that’s not the main reason I called you here,” you continue. “What I really called you here for was…”

You trail off, looking down, and Sunghoon is hit with a sudden sense of nostalgia. Why are you being so bashful around him all of a sudden? “Was…” he gently prompts.

You swallow, lifting up your chin and looking him in the eye. “I wanted to tell you that I’m in love with you too.”

Park Sunghoon swears time stops, and the whole world comes to a standstill. The words ring in his ears, echoing inside his head. His lips part, and he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“I—Say that again.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

He sees the flicker in your eyes, notices how you’re ready to compete with him for this. “I love you, Park Sunghoon. I don’t care about the fact that you’re Spider-Man.”

Sunghoon takes a step towards you, holding your shoulders gently, like you’re made of glass. “I love you too.”

You grin at him, your own arms encircling his waist and coming to rest on his back. “I know that.”

And then you tip your head forward and capture his lips with your own. He gasps at first, before kissing you back with equal force, one hand tugging you closer to him and the other curving around your torso.

You giggle into the kiss, and Sunghoon’s lips twitch upwards. He’s giddy, weightless, floating through the air like a feather being carried by the wind. The feeling he gets when he’s swooping through the rooftops of the city is nothing compared to the feeling of your lips slotted against his and his arms wrapped around you.

Park Sunghoon swears he doesn’t try to act stupid normally. But if it makes you smile, he’s willing to do anything.