#I think it's because he was one of two characters with those eyes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

quandledlngle69 · 21 hours ago

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･ﾟ★ HOW THE BLUE!LOCK BOYS MET YOU .ᐟ PART I.

☆ CONTENT: How the Blue lock characters met you and how they act after you get into a relationship + Different aesthetics I think suit the blue lock characters and the aesthetics and looks their partner would have. ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: mentions of Bachira being bullied, kaiser being a dick like always, all readers in this fic are black women! ☆ PAIRING: Reo!Mikage, Michael!Kaiser, Itoshi!Sae, Itoshi!Rin, Meguru!Bachira x Black!femreader. ☆ W.C. 3.4K ☆ NOTE: Sorry if this is seems rushed lmfao it kinda felt like it, also i am currently attempting to write for the other characters on my page as this is going to be a two part thing, enjoy.ᐟ

Itoshi Sae – TROPICAL GODDESS – Oh Qué Será?, Willie Colón.

After a particularly heavy and busy season of his football career, Sae takes himself to the summer beaches of Puerto Rico. He scrolls on his phone, his feed mostly full of other footballers and professionally taken sightseeing views. Until he stops on your post.

You're posing on a bar stool, the photo clearly had been asked to be taken by the bartender in front of you. Your palm holding up your cheek, eyes dreamily squinted closed as if you were enjoying the warmth of the sun on your back. The orange light reflected on your dark skin, making you look as radiant as a dancing sunflower. Your crochet bikini looked hand made, and the many pieces of gold jewellery overlapping on your neck and fingers only tied the whole aesthetic you had. A bright sunshine yellow hibiscus flower was planted snuggly in the ebony waves that cascaded down your back, like a fierce lion's mane.

Your smile was so cheeky–like you were having the time of your life. It made Sae breathless. He had been approached by many women of different walks of life: actresses, models, born wealthy, generally famous, and yet the more he dissected your single post with his sharp teal eyes, the more his lungs felt squeezed. You know what made him even more breathless? The fact that he recognized the outside bar.

Because he was a few feet away from it. And you know what's even funnier?

You're sitting on the same bar stool, in the same outfit, sipping the pina colada he saw in the corner of the picture. And as you turn your head, your penetrating gaze left him frozen in his place in the hot sand.

Itoshi Sae is not one to approach anyone, let alone a beautiful woman like you.

But maybe he’ll bend his own rules, this once.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

When you and Sae finally get together, you’ll notice he never looks at anyone how he looks at you. His indifference fades, and his cold eyes soften every time you talk or gaze at him. To him, you're a goddess, and don’t be surprised when you catch him staring at you, or when you're snuggled under the covers, and the rough pads of his fingertips are ever so gentle tracing every feature on your face like he’s committing it to memory. He’ll drop everything for you, it doesn’t matter where he is. Training? An interview? A Match? In a different country? None of those factors matter when it comes to you. You're his ride or die, and he proves that everytime without fail. He travels with you every time a season ends, and every new location posted has a blurry figure in the back, or a hand on your thigh or waist. People started getting suspicious when they could recognise the bracelets in the pictures were identical to the ones Sae wore in his matches. The suspicion turned into concrete proof when you had the mistake of posting a selfie Sae took with sunglasses on.

You kinda forgot the fact you could see his whole reflection in the shades.

Reo Mikage – LAW STUDENT/ACADEMIC RIVALS – Obsessed, Mariah Carey.

From elementary to highschool, Reo had always been at the top of his class, the ‘well liked class president’. Coming home with anything less than an A was unacceptable, especially with the weight on his shoulders of inheriting his fathers company. So when he was finally accepted into a prestigious school like Harvard, he was more than giddy.

He also wasn't silly, and recognised that it would be extremely competitive. The job demand for lawyers and judges was no joke.

Yet when he was told it would be competitive, he didn’t sign up for the frustration, annoyance and jealousy bundled and wrapped just for him, all from one person. Because although he was top of his class, there was one person who he butted heads with.

You.

You, who sat in the lecture hall a few rows in front of him on the far left, you who had the most perfect side parted honey–blonde bob he’s ever seen. You, who pushes your oval glasses up every ten minutes when it slides down your nose. You, who comes to the lecture five minutes early routinely. You, who was continuously handed A pluses like it was child's play. You, who consecutively has a routine of fixing your lips after class is dismissed: Charlotte Tilbury lip liner, followed by NYX butter gloss, then clear lip gloss on top of it.

Did he learn that against his will? …no, but your very distracting–

The first real interaction was when you were both voted as tied class presidents. At the end of class, you were both called up to the front by your professor, and for the first time, he had your undivided attention. And it was exactly what he was expecting– a stare that was calculating, studious of him. He was used to this from his fathers businesses partners, or other important high status people–but coming from you? It made him weak, almost like a little boy with a crush.

And god–was that your perfume? It was more pleasant than any of his expensive colognes at home. It was like a warm sugar vanilla, a fresh bakery. And– wait, when did you get that close? You were an arms length away, hands clasped together politely in front of you.

“It’s pleasant to finally talk to you, Reo right?”

You already knew his name. Is it strange to say it's satisfying hearing his name fall from your lips?

You're more gorgeous up close than he could imagine, and your outstretched palm is warm as he gently grasps it for a handshake, your manicured nails fresh. You smile at him, and he swears it's like watching someone hang up the moon and stars in the sky. Reo knows he gets everything in life–but can he be selfish this once and ask for you?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

When you guys get together, just know Reo will not let you pay for anything. He would rather die than let your card be swiped at a five–star restaurant, or pay for your own nails, hair, or makeup. And do not tell this man you're going shopping, he’ll raise his eyebrow to ask if, ‘you're missing something’ and to your confused look, he’ll drop his platinum black card in your hands without a word and walk off. He will be kicking his feet every time you get your hair done. Oh you got a different length? Let him touch it. A different colour? Send him a pic as soon as it's done. You got the same colour as his hair? He’s basically yours for life and you're never getting rid of him. He manages to spoil you more than your stereotypical bald dad–and just that manages to gain your fathers approval of Reo.

Meguru Bachira – THE ART STUDENT – Is This Love, Bob Marley.

Bachira first met you because his mother encouraged him to take afterschool art classes in highschool. This year had been poor, and besides his football teammates being barely his acquaintances, he had no friends of his own. He wasn’t expecting much out of it, but at least it sounded therapeutic.

He had walked into the room, immediately being hit with a sweet, gentle floral perfume, and the lingering scent of herbal medicine behind it. The corners of the classroom were covered in green, various plants that seemed to be thriving laying around.

The chairs and desk were purposely shifted into the corner to make room for everything else. The largest window wide open, the breeze coming and going as it pleases, the brown transparent curtains gently flailing around. You were sitting on a little stool in front of a large canvas that's half–painted by your hands. He stood there, just..watching quietly, you didn't even notice his presence from how deep in concentration you were. Your odd patterned ankle skirt swayed gently from the wind of the open window, your gold chain belt drooping off your hip, your off the shoulder striped sweater muddled with different colours of paint. Your butterfly locs were up in a high bun, out of your face as you worked. The sun shone brightly through the window, perfectly lighting up your portrait. You yourself quietly hummed to the melody of the reggae song on the radio, dipping your brush back into the water and mixing it back and forth, the sound of sloshing water filling the air.

When the door behind him shut rather loudly–it finally got your attention as you looked up, surprised, but a shy beam of a smile on your face, the twinkle in your eyes made his heart stutter a little.

“Hello, you must be Meguru, right? I heard you wanted to join the art club.” You chirped, putting your paint brush down. ��I'm happy, oh–and I'm the co–founder of this club! It’s nice to meet you!”

He was barely paying attention to your words, just nodding along as he stared at your form getting closer, the floral scent he had been smelling in the background getting stronger.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

It took a while, but when he finally got the courage to ask you out, you had said yes, and he was dumbfounded. He didn’t have any friends, so having a girlfriend? It wasn’t something he ever imagined. One of the things that you love about Bachira is how observant he is. You had complained to him once that your favourite foundation ran out, and you searched for weeks but couldn’t find another one in your shade. Bachira, being the amazing one he is, had an exceptional talent beside football and that was remembering colour theory. He only had to look at the colour once, before he made the perfect shade match. So when he comes over to yours with a bottle of a warm copper foundation, you were sceptical at first, until you did a swatch on your face, and you were delightfully surprised it was a flawless match.

You definitely spoiled him with kisses for this.

Your days are filled with a child–like silliness and laughter purer than anything on earth. His mother loves you–and that's just a fact. You also realise he’s extremely messy, and he gets paint everywhere– how does one get paint behind their ears? You show him a whole other world, one where he doesn’t have to be lonely. He truly appreciates you, and the weekends he spends at your house–why didn’t you tell him you had a hammock in the middle of your room?!

You spend many afternoons inside the sun–filled space, slow music playing in the back while he splayed on top of you in the hammock, dozing off, cheek to your chest as you scratched his back. And you may be like a dancing mushroom, but it would be a mistake to anyone wanting to bully Bachira in your presence. You wouldn’t be physical, neither verbally abusive, but you would break someone down with your words. Someone's bullying Bachira because he’s ‘weird’? You will and definitely go onto a whole rant about how that person's self–projecting, making them rethink their actions for the next ten years, and his heart swells a little more every time you defend him.

Itoshi Rin – TENNIS PLAYER – Black Beauty, Lana Del Ray.

Rin had heard of you before. The girl who had come from nowhere, climbing up the ranks of tennis with one dominating win at a time. He had watched one of your plays once when you came up on TV. You were a beast on the court, leaving your opponent in complete despair, crushing their massive egos with an indifference he was familiar with. Your colour palette was also neural; black, white and grey, whether you were on the court or not. You had such a clean look to you. Bare faced, the only ‘makeup’ product you used was the aloe chapstick kept in your skirt pocket, your hair was always slicked back into that high barbie ponytail. Even your nails–a plain nude almond.

Perhaps he didn’t want to admit these details of you stuck in his brain because he hadn’t stopped watching you since he first saw you on the big screen. He’d rather die than admit to anyone that ever since he saw you on TV, he’d been collecting little subtle merchandise.

Maybe there's a poster of you in his room. But no one needs to know that.

So when he finally made it to the world cup a few months later and he was up with the big dogs, it was hard to calm his racing heart when he was sat next to the tennis team; who were there to fill in the halftime with a quick little match. And maybe the gods were blessing him this once. Because it was you he was sitting next to.

You barely glanced at him as he sat down, (which he was honestly grateful for) wired earbuds in your ears, steely analysing the field. To him, you seemed nonchalant.

Little does he know about the heat creeping up your neck and cheeks. What are the chances you sit next to the Itoshi Rin? You hope he doesn’t know how much of a fan you are. He probably doesn’t even know you. Oh you hope he doesn’t–there's been some unsightly images of you from the press during your matches–

He had noticed the way your leg started to bounce, as if you were anxious about something.

You attempted to calm your rampant heart –get it together! He’s an athlete just like you! Would it be weird to ask for an autograph? No, it would be totally weird.

But before you could draw away from your decision, you let out a shaky breath, and with a straight–face, turned towards him. You swallowed thickly, aware he was already looking straight at you with those sharp teal irises.

His bottom lashes were even longer upclose.

“Your Itoshi Rin, right?” You address him miraculously without stuttering, your tone not too excited, but humble, not to seem displeasing.

His voice comes out huffed, almost defensive enough to make you falter.

“Yeah, what's it to you?” You think he’s annoyed, but in reality he doesn’t know how to talk to pretty girls like you at all. You’ve got your attention on him, and he doesn’t know what to do with it, he internally cringes at his tone, hoping he didn’t come off as cold. He thinks he’s fumbling with the way you slightly shrink into yourself, but your next words completely take him off guard.

“Can I have your autograph?”

There was a beat of silence for a moment.

You don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn adorably pink as he mumbles what seems like an agreement under his breath.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

When you guys finally get together, honestly it's a long struggle of who can last being the most nonchalant. Rin definitely cracks first. But when you guys finally warm up to each other, you notice Rin is very observant of your quirks, your likes and dislikes. He remembers you don't like mushrooms or olives, how your eyebrow arches when confused or in disbelief, and how you bounce the tennis ball four times exactly before you swing. It warms his cold heart that you're the same way, finding and grabbing any owl object you could find. Plushies, keychains, posters, shirts, anything, all from him mentioning once in a passing comment his favourite animal was an owl when you were snuggled on the couch watching a nature documentary.

Michael Kaiser – FASHION STYLIST – NISSAN ALTIMA, Doechii.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence that Micheal Kaiser and his team got a new fashion stylist for the upcoming season. His manager said something about switching it up a little every now and again–not like he cared to listen. It was their biggest sponsorship yet–one that had nothing to do with sports.

We're talking about working with Vogue, Dior, Saint Laurent, Clavin Klein, etc. Top end brands that suited a high–profile person like Kaiser and the rest of his team. So when they finally stepped inside the studio that was preparing them for their photoshoot in a few hours, he was not amused that there was no one there. He was expecting a team there to greet them, or staff bustling around almost tripping over themselves to get supplies. Ness was the first to state Kaiser's thoughts out loud, and at that moment, you appeared behind the corner.

Kaiser could tell you was a no–nonsense person off the bat. You were dressed in your jorts and oversized jersey shirt, a staple of casual streetwear. Your nails were heavily designed, adorned with gems and charms that clinked with everything you touched. Your hair was like a map of constellations, each parted into the shape of a star, coiled into tight bantu knots – each twist gleaming under the unnatural white light.

When you introduced yourself as their stylist and makeup artist for the season, Kaiser sneered, asking you if you were doing this all on your own. It came out snobbish, almost degrading. The gum you were loudly chewing and popping in your mouth made his eye twitch. You arched your brow, staring at him over your dark shades. But you weren't phased by his attempt to jab at you, and bluntly confirmed that yes, you were doing it all on your own.

And maybe Kaiser prejudged you a little too hard, because for limited hours and a team of eleven players–you were three times more efficient than his German stylist team at home. You had started at twelve, and had everyone's makeup done by two o’clock, and by two–thirty, throwing clothes in his face at him to put on.

He doesn’t want to admit he was humming to the girly rappers on the mounted TV, or the fact he wanted to compliment you for getting the right shade for his red eyeliner. He had no weakness to poke at as you did your job well, and he didn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.

There's a confident vibe and aura you brung that made him curious about you.

You're leaning over him, subconsciously holding your breath, making sure his eyeliner is as straight as possible. Your face was screwed up with concentration, lips pursed and eyebrows knitted. His head draped back over the top of the chair, his prominent adam's apple bobbles with each swallow, and you could feel the blue tips of his hair ticking your forearm. He subtly breathes in your perfume, the orange blossom and trace of jasmine stapling itself to his memory.

Your eyes flickered up, noticing the slow curl of his lips, “You're quite efficient, Engelchen.” He murmured, his voice is soft despite its deepness, as if to not mess up your concentration.

You let out a faint hum in acknowledgement, “You learn in life that it’s better to take things in your own hands, that’s how you get things done more proficiently,”

Your words made him pause, and they sounded familiar in a way, similar to his own motto.

When you finally pulled the brush of the liner away, his blonde lashes fluttered to gaze up at you, his sapphire orbs glinted with an amused and self–righteous look, and you could feel your heart rate rapidly picking up, tensing under his stare.

“You couldn’t be more correct.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

When you finally get together, even though he doesn’t admit it, he falls first and harder. He treats you like a delicacy, and it's hard to get annoyed with him when he’s all over you, cooing at you with his pretty accent and pretty face. It's not uncommon for you to fight, (honestly you feed off each other's toxicity) but it’s unpredictable who puts who in their place. Anyone who meets the both of you, they always say there's an oozing aura of arrogance and confidence that's nauseating. You're like dogs fighting for dominance half the time. By the two months mark of first meeting you, Kaiser had already kicked the bucket of his last stylist team just to implement you into his busy and strict routine. Before you began as his personal stylist though, there were many moments where you had to separate him and Isagi in the studio when they started bickering with each other, dragging Kaiser four chairs down so there would be no way to interact with Isagi.

･ﾟ★ Credits for dividers.ᐟ @aquazero, @vysleix, @unknown-till.

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eyothings · 3 days ago

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So out of nowhere this december, i've been hit with nostalgia and decided it was time to rewatch Buffy The Vampire Slayer's entire series after the last time it aired on tv, meaning 20 years ago.

Not only it shaped a whole side of my lil sister personality, it is also the favorite show of one of my cousin and closest friends.

And considering the state i'm in after finishing season 7, i know for sure Spike is the origin of my utter love for anti-heros, England and ennemies-to-lovers trope.

He is one of those characters that stay with you forever.

C'mon look at him, LO_OK.

I had very few memories of the show, only some big moments: Angel leaving for a spinoff, Spike ♥, Dark Willow, Spuffy - Basically I remembered almost nothing.

The first season set the tone for me, i forgot the serie was very funny, and what worked right away was the simple fact that they didn't act seriously either, the actors looked like they just had fun. On top of that, even if i already knew that, the show is very feminist and advanced for its time.

I also forgot how much of an asshole Xander is. lol

The worst season for me is clearly season 4, and between you and me, and me and you, it's unsurprisingly because of Riley and the army.

The best season is obviously season 6, and not only for Spike and Spuffy but for Buffy's whole personality.

I have so much to say about the show really, but I'll stay focused and talk about the two ships: Bangel and Spuffy (and a bit of Riley). Note that it is purely my point of view, based on what i like to see and read in fiction and how I perceive the characters, there is clearly a big difference compared to real life. As well as any "bitch" mentioned here is only affectionate. And if you're crazy enough to read the entire post, I apologise in advance for the many mistakes in my writing, as English is not my mother tongue.

The moment i'm writing this VERY long ass post, I've only just started to watch Angel the series for the first time and I've only seen the first season, so my thoughts on him may change in the future, but I don't think my pov on the ships will. I am also aware of some events in seasons 8 to 12 (comics).

• Bangel:

To be honest I liked their love story more when Angel was Angelus.

First, them falling in love never really clicked, I guess they played the love at first sight trope, but she was 15 and he was 200; at that age, any man who was pretty enough and a bit dark would've worked for her. (I won't talk about a 26 y/o man falling in love with a 15 y/o teenager, the man is from 1727, at this point it's not even the same culture okay??)

I thought I'd still give it a chance and root for them, even if I was fully aware of him leaving and Spike would be the new romance (I FORGOT THE WASTE OF TIME WITH RILEY), because they actually talked about all the issues, they knew something was off with their love story but they couldn't stop.

I have not much to say about the nature of their love, it was a cute romance at best, but the more they went further the cringier it'd get, I still have trauma about their kiss noises, no kidding.

They slept together and Angel becomes Angelus, which is supposed to be sad and add some angst, but Angelus was so charismatic, I didn't care about Angel anymore.

And what can I say? I think the soul vs no soul aspect played kinda badly, they all said that Angelus was incapable of love since he had no soul, but we had the concrete proof that love was possible thanks to Spike & Drusilla to begin with ??

I was hoping that, since they sold us their love as super powerful and intense, Angelus would end up falling in love with Buffy, especially after the episode in which both are possessed by ghosts in season 2 episode 19 - I Only Have Eyes for You - which is my favorite moment between them:

but NO, Angelus cannot love, and only Angel can:

It's either we get the flavored guy but no romance or the bland one with a half romance.

Talk about the greatest love story there.

And the whole season 3 is Angel and Buffy having a teen romance:

"Let's just hold hands and kiss but nothing else"

Of course I guess this kind of love story is possible, but it is made clear they both feel the sexual tension each time they kiss, they even dream of doing it. So the only thing that comes of it, is frustrating feelings, for Buffy, for Angel and for us watching them going nowhere.

The hottest moment they have is when Angel bites her to survive.

Surely for a love story that is sold to be so grand, I expected Angel to find a cure for the curse? And fight for his love or something?

♫ Nope, he just leaves. ♫

♫ Bitch talks about fighting for what is worth and bails out at the first difficulty. ♫

i cannot even blame Joyce here, she made the right call, for real. Mother knows best, but he had the chance to prove her wrong.

And in parallel to that we are introduced to Spike, a vampire with no soul who is one hundred times worth Angel, just by existing.

And there is so much to say, whether or not Spuffy was intended, whether or not Angel is supposed to be the love of Buffy's life; After reaching seven seasons, I can guarantee without any hesitation, that Spike is the one, there is no contest.

I can't, for the life of me, believe one second that Joss Whedon and the rest of the team wrote the enemies to lovers story of the last two decades without doing it on purpose? They were so much into Angel, to realize what was happening?

They sold me Angel and Buffy being the "forever love", and, in a way, they are, but only because they cling to the "what could've been".

Of course they will always be attracted to each other until they really try. They'll always idealise their love story and fill the plotholes with their imagination. But it is dramatically bound to end in disaster.

And no, Buffy, I cannot take you seriously when you say "I loved him more than I will ever love anything in this life" ; You were a teenager, it is normal to feel more deeply when you're 16, but that doesn't mean anything, and you know it too well.

Angel left her broken, unable to trust anyone, unable to trust herself and alone: If the love of her life doesn't want to be with her, then who will? (♫ We have an idea ♫ )

Soul or not, he has been a coward, with no intent to get to know Buffy, her family, her friends. He decided what was best for her without asking her.

All he does after that, is coming back into Buffy's life at the worst moments to be jealous.

♫ He is that toxic boyfriend who comes back with puppy eyes each time you try to move on. ♫

Every time he appears in an episode it's to disappoint even more: I was rooting for him, I even missed him A LOT in season 4 !

And, sure, meanwhile, the dance between Spike and Buffy was already ongoing since season 2, but we really didn't have any concrete scenes between them that could seal the ship for good (them under Willow's spell in season 4 doesn't count). So the best option at that moment was the hope for Angel to come back.

Buffy never really had the chance to move on from Angel because of Riley and his insecurities, but also because Angel cannot seem to move on, while moving on at the same time ? ! ? ♫ Bitch has a child ♫

The moment Angel left the show, it should have been for good. (Note aside, I'm still having a hard time believing the character had his own spinoff because of his popularity, when we barely saw him hanging around in the first 3 seasons, wouldn't have it been simpler for him to stay and have more scenes, like Spike?) • Riley & Buffy (Briley??)

And so Angel never came back, and we got Riley instead. He was the perfect choice to make the bridge between Bangel and Spuffy. She needed to experience a "normal" romance, with a "normal guy" to know what it's like and to understand what she really wants, but one season and a half was way too much. ♫ I ended up googling " WHEN is Riley LEAVING? "♫ The moment Buffy said she held back her strength when training with him, was enough to see what was coming.

Riley was nothing else than just an army guy under steroids who couldn't even handle his girlfriend being stronger than him.

Him blaming Buffy for not really being around when her mother was dying was the cherry on top of the loser's behavior.

Buffy needed someone with whom she could be 100% herself, an equal, and Riley knew he wasn't half of that; so he made her pay? By cheating on her and leaving? Then coming back a year later to brag about his wedding? Lmao give me a break Riloser.

So now Buffy is alone AGAIN, both men she thought she loved, left without looking back. ♫ Over my shouuulder ♫

And from those two relationships, we can already see what she needs in a romance:

- An emotionally available man - That can be there for her without pushing her - Someone who doesn't flee the second he encounters the smallest difficulty - A man strong enough for her to unleash the full force without being afraid of hurting him ♫ yes i'm talking about sex ♫ - Someone who understands her role as the slayer and her crazy life - Someone selfless capable of protecting her family and friends - Someone she can trust.

♫ And now, ladies and gentlemen, lets welcome ♫

• Spuffy:

Ok first a bit of context here: I disagree about people criticizing Buffy season 6 Lets just understand whats going on: Bitch sacrifices herself to save the world and her sister; at that moment, she feels peace for the first time in her life, for the first time she is not afraid to die and fulfill her destiny by choice. She has an heroic death, ends up resting in paradise...

♫ Then her friends who can't handle to live without her, decide to bring her back to life. ♫

Not only she comes back to life in her fucking coffin, she also: - Has to crawl to the surface (almost dying stupidly) - Has to act as if nothing happened - Has to be the slayer again - Cannot even go back to university - Has even less prospect for a normal life - She is poor - She needs to find money (ends up working in a fast food) - Has to thanks her friends for bringing her back to the life she never wanted - Is being blamed for not really being around.

♫ I WOULD HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING PISSED YOU CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE ♫

So what? She comes back, feels different, depressed, alone AGAIN and figuratively chained to a life she still doesn't want, and the only person who does understand what she is going through is Spike. Spike who has been here for her family and friends the whole time she was dead, meaning, he did it because he wanted to, because he felt genuine pleasure in hanging out with them while keeping his promise to protect Dawn.

He could have left, but never did, even though his love was one-sided, he loved her so much he stayed.

♫ Death couldn't do them apart ♫

He has been a father figure for Dawn, but not only that, Spike was also the only vampire Joyce liked and trusted, a presence she didn't mind in her home without Buffy around.

And Spike did love Joyce very much ♥

And I have so much to say about Spike, he is that multi-flavored character with so many layers, who stays interesting with or without a soul. He is a slayer's killer, seen as one of the most dangerous vampires, that anyone should be scared to be around, he has so much confidence in himself, he doesn't even mind being so freaking pathetic when it comes to love.

He is not even afraid nor ashamed to show his affection, to be vulnerable, to be open about it, and most of it, he just embraces it without a care of the outcome, he is just living by the day, knowing perfectly that everything could stop at any moment. Though, that being said, i'm still well aware Spike has also MANY flaws, all he does is mainly driven by love but it is still extreme and twisted due to his soulless condition. I really don't know where to start, because i feel like Buffy and Spike's destinies are intertwined - They are a mirror to each other. Buffy's behavior has anything to do with Spike, as Spike's behavior has anything to do with Buffy - it is really like watching a dance.

Spike allows her to embrace and explore the darkest part of herself - She was always the perfect girl everyone expected her to be.

She needed to do good, to BE good, but what if she, for once, chose the other side? Of course she never went as far as Faith did, but she allowed herself to fall into a forbidden romance, and to go against everyone's expectations, because she only felt something when she was with him. And i loved this part of her, because to me, she finally has flaws! I mean, she always had some but not to that extent. And maybe, maybe being like this, was a way for her to never fall completely into the darkness nor into Spike's influence.

Maybe she was in an inner battle between good and bad.

Maybe it was an unconscious way to either push him away, or test him to see if he will ever leave her. Abusive or not towards Spike, let's not forget that he is still William the bloody, and the only thing that stops him from killing anyone is the chip in his brain. We're still talking about the guy who would have easily killed Willow if he had the chance, the one Buffy wouldn't trust at all without that said chip.

Even though Spike has done TREMENDOUS good deeds with the scoobies, he is still a slave to his primary emotions.

Don't get me wrong, this is why i love Spike SO MUCH, his duality as a soulless vampire is everything. The man can talk to you about his favorite romantic show and a minute later kill someone in cold blood and find a great pleasure in both.

♫ Anyway ♫

Above all things, they are in love, and this love is extremely intense, deep, powerful, unbearable and terrible.

Thanks to Tara, Buffy realizes she did not come back as any different as before she died and realizes the horrors she has committed to Spike by treating him like a monster he never trully was.

Buffy ends up admitting her wrongs and grows out of her darkness and chooses to be good and to end her relationship with Spike. And she is glowing and glimming, and she's not his anymore.

Which leads Spike to end up doing something awful.

And what does he do after that??

He leaves the city...

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ TO FIX HIMSELF ♫ ♫ ♫

Ladies and Gentlemen, we are in the year 2002, and yes you read me well:

THE BAD GUY GOES TO FIX HIMSELF TO BE WORTHY OF THE GIRL

♫ William the bloody risked his fucking life in a trial to get back his soul ♫

She doesn't fix him, he does it on his own because he knows something must be done to repair his wrongs, that his love needs to be purified of his monstrous side to be a better man and stand at her side.

And even though she doesn't know that, she is still looking for him, even after what he has done, she is always drawn to him, she always wants to be around him.

Then she learns he got his spark back for her and she does everything in her power to keep him by her side.

Because now it is time for Spike to embrace the brightest part of himself thanks to Buffy.

I love them so much, especially in season 7 because they don't even have to act romantically to show how deep their love is for each other. How simple it has become, how instinctive their complicity is. They know how to complement each other, it is almost symbiotic.

They are clearly not ready to be together again until they really sort things out but Spike has seen the best and the worst parts of her, and is still hers entirely, and will always be.

As much as Buffy has seen the best and worst parts of him, and she still trusts and loves him to the point of asking the initiative to remove the chip in his brain. ♫ On top of desperately not wanting him to die ♫ Also, without knowing it yet, she is entirely his and will always be.

Buffy sees Spike’s worth, and Spike sees Buffy’s, even when neither of them can see their own.

They lift each other up, and become an unbreakable force, to the point that no one can split them.

And this is one of my favorite parts of Spuffy, in season 7:

Before, she would never have let Spike kill a human, not even out of revenge. But now, she’s willing to let his shadow take over if it means keeping him alive, just as he learns to hold it back. To me, episode 17 - Lies My Parents Told Me - marks how far their connection has grown: Buffy running as fast as she can to save Spike Spike's past with his mother, helping him make peace with some of it, as part of his ongoing redemption arc ♫ it broke my heart ♫ Spike coming back to his senses to beat the shit out of Robin, and giving him a last chance Buffy telling Robin she'll let Spike kill him next time he even tries to harm Spike Buffy choosing Spike over Giles Buffy choosing Spike over the "common sense" Buffy choosing love over her duty (even if she pretends otherwise) ♫ Buffy, you cannot fool Spike, but you cannot fool us either! ♫

And i love this parallel with the end of season 2 when she had to choose duty over love and kill Angel. This is Buffy allowing herself to be a bit more selfish while Spike is allowing himself to be a bit more selfless.

And then in the middle of the biggest battle of her life, she is overthrown over shitty excuses ♫ i have a LOT to say about the Scoobies but that post is insanely long to add some salt ♫ and who is the one that still has her back? Spike. Spike has always been unconditionally here for her and never let her down, which even the Scoobies didn't always do.

Spike is the one who delivers the most selfless and beautiful love declaration of the whole show, to her. When she needs it the most, because he is the only one who can see her.

And his love is what gives strength to Buffy to trust herself and pursue her goal. He is the one who brings back the light in Buffy, who pushes her to live and accept her fate as being the one.

And talking about light,

♫ What a freakin' poetry to have centered Spike's whole redemption arc around it ♫

He was always pursuing that light, whether in Cecily when he was a human or Buffy as a vampire. All he had to do was bring the light into him and embrace his humanity to fulfill his redemption. And so he makes the ultimate sacrifice, And he glows. Not only he saves the world willingly and selflessly but he also gives back the fire inside Buffy, frees her from Sunnydale and her role as the sole slayer.

♫ "I love you" - "Spike" are the last words Buffy says in the show ♫ • Conclusion A freaking long ass post only to say that to me, Spuffy is very well written as enemies to lovers, thanks to Jane Espenson, Douglas Petrie & Marti Noxon. Though i think Spike still suffers some injustices, but I'm glad he got the respect he deserves in the comics, (which i consider canon) : Not only does Spike end up as part of the Scoobies but also with Buffy, and he is the only one with whom she fights for their relationship to last. ♫ And they're endgame in season 12 ♫ (Thank you Christos Gage)

I also think JW made many mistakes for Bangel to work: I know he was kinda annoyed by Spike's popularity at first and wanted Angel to be seen as the main vampire of the franchise, which led him to give Angel his own spinoff, but by doing that, he also broke the link between Buffy and Angel. Which ultimately led Spike to have a more organic evolution with her instead of Angel. They both had their own paths in their own separate worlds, which forced JW to accept Spuffy as being the logical conclusion. Just as Cordelia was also the best choice for Angel to grow and be more open about his emotions. Claiming in interviews that Angel is the love of Buffy's life without ever demonstrating it concretely in any of the media itself makes this statement fall flat. I do not hate Bangel, I think the ship was necessary for Buffy to grow, but i do see more Angel as her first idealised and tragic love, while with Spike, it is more grounded, mature and based on mutual respect, trust, acceptation and stability.

♫ Angel should have stayed and Spike and Drusilla should have had their own spinoff, and i'd have paid to see that. ♫ • My pov on Sprusilla?

Literally nothing to say about them, they match each other freak to a level no one can ever comprehend.

♫ They are a perfect match and untouchable. ♫ ♫ May they end up together again and last for eternity. ♫

♫ With animals. ♫ (alive)

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dreamykira · 2 days ago

Text

Only Regret Remains I THANOS x reader

˗ˏˋWARNINGS ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Use of drugs (Thanos is high), character death, mentions of shooting, spoilers!!!!, a little angst that turns into fluff. ps! if i missed any then pls let me know:)

˗ˏˋAuthor's Note ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Heyyyy!! So I wrote this based on a request that this lovely user sent me: @nuttyflowerheart

I hope you enjoy!!!!

ALSOOOOOO i haven't written anything like this in a long long time so pls if u have any recommendations, do let me know!

word count: 1137

The Mingle game had been chaotic.

At first, the rules seemed simple—find a group and enter a room before time ran out. But as the numbers dwindled and the last round was called, desperation took hold.

Two.

Fifty rooms. A hundred and fifty people. It wasn’t about strategy anymore—it was about survival.

And in those final seconds, you thought Thanos would choose you. You felt it, deep in your chest, the silent reassurance that no matter how brutal this game got, the two of you would stick together.

But then he turned his back on you.

His fingers curled around Nam-Gyu’s arm, dragging him toward the nearest room.

You barely had time to register it, your heart pounding as you spun to find someone—anyone—before the doors locked. And then—

Gyeon-su.

Gyeon-su was on the ground, scrambling to get up, his face contorted in panic. You didn’t even see what happened—only that Thanos was already running, dragging Nam-Gyu toward an open room. And in that split second, as Gyeon-su reached for you, you realized—Thanos had pushed him.

You didn’t even have time to react before someone else pulled you into a room at the last second. And then the gunfire started.

By the time you made it back to the dormitory, it was clear that Gyeon-su was gone. And Thanos—your Thanos—was acting like nothing had happened.

✧˚ · .

The dormitory was suffocating. Not because of the stale air or the distant sobs of players mourning their partners. No, it was the presence of him.

Thanos stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall with that same unreadable expression, arms crossed over his chest as if this was just another night. But it wasn’t.

You sat on the edge of your bed, heart hammering in your chest, trying to process the events of the last game. Your fingers trembled, clutching at the thin sheets as if it could anchor you to something solid. Something real.

But nothing felt real anymore.

"You’re angry," Thanos finally said, his voice even, detached. His pupils were still blown wide, the drugs still lingering in his system. "I get it, baby. But you’re here. We both made it."

You let out a breathless laugh, but it was hollow, devoid of warmth. "You get it?" Your eyes snapped to his, burning with unshed tears. "You left me, Thanos. You walked away and didn’t even look back. You—" Your voice cracked. "You let Gyeon-su die."

He rolled his jaw, exhaling slowly through his nose. "I did what I had to."

"Don’t," you spat, standing up so fast your knees almost gave out. "Don’t you dare give me that bullshit.”

Thanos tilted his head, watching you with an almost lazy indifference. It made your stomach churn. "Weakness gets you killed in here, darling. You know that."

Your hands clenched into fists. "He was my best friend."

Thanos sighed, rubbing his temples. "And I’m your boyfriend," he murmured, stepping closer. His voice softened, coaxing, like he could smooth this over with pet names and careful words. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wasn’t thinking—"

Your breath hitched at the familiarity of his tone, the same one he used late at night when the weight of the game pressed too hard against your chest. But now, his words felt empty.

You shook your head, stepping back. "No, Thanos. You were thinking. You made a choice. And it wasn’t me." Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. "You turned your back on me. You made it clear that there is no ‘us’ when you chose Nam-Gyu."

He didn’t reply, just nodded once, exhaled sharply through his nose, and walked off with Nam-Gyu, who had been observing the conversation from the side.

Maybe it was the drugs still coursing through his system, dulling his emotions, keeping him numb. He didn’t fight for your forgiveness, didn’t try to explain himself.

And that hurt. More than anything else.

So you stayed away.

You curled up in your bed, facing the wall, body curled tight like you could somehow make yourself smaller, like you could shut out the ache in your chest. Gyeon-su was gone. And Thanos… you weren’t sure if he had ever really been yours at all.

✧˚ · .

Hours passed.

The drugs faded.

And suddenly, it hit him.

Thanos sat on the edge of his bunk bed, hands clasped together, his head bowed. His heart pounded—too fast, too hard. Every second that ticked by felt like a hammer slamming into his ribs.

What the fuck have I done?

He remembered the look in your eyes, the betrayal that cut deeper than any wound he’d ever taken. He remembered the way you didn’t even fight with him, like you had already decided he wasn’t worth it.

And Gyeon-su… Fuck.

He had been high. Out of his head, not thinking, not feeling. It had all been instinct—push, grab, run. But now, sitting there, stone-cold sober, it clawed at him.

He had killed Gyeon-su.

He had lost you.

His fingers trembled as he ran them through his hair, gripping tight, trying to breathe. He needed to fix this. He had to fix this.

✧˚ · .

You didn’t hear him approach.

Didn’t move when he knelt down beside your bed, resting his hand lightly on your arm.

"Baby," he whispered, voice hoarse, broken. "Please."

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry again. "Go away, Thanos."

"No." His grip tightened, just slightly. "I can’t. Not after—fuck, I don’t even know where to start."

Silence.

Then, finally, you turned your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed, tired, full of something you hadn’t seen before—pure, raw remorse.

"I wasn’t thinking," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I was high, and I—I wasn’t seeing things the way I should have. I should’ve picked you. I should’ve fought for us." His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I should’ve saved Gyeon-su."

Your chest ached. "But you didn’t."

He exhaled sharply. "I know. And I can’t take it back. But, baby—please—don’t let this be the end of us.*"

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Because fuck, you wanted to hate him. You should hate him. But he was looking at you like you were the only thing holding him together, and maybe… maybe you were.

You took a shaky breath. "I don’t know if I can forgive you."

"I don’t deserve it." His voice cracked. "But I swear to you, darling—if you give me another chance, I will never, never leave you again."

His hand found yours, fingers tentative, uncertain.

You hesitated—just for a second—before squeezing back.

"Okay," you murmured. "But you’re sleeping on the floor tonight."

For the first time in hours, Thanos let out a soft, breathless laugh. "Alright, pretty girl"

And maybe, just maybe, you could piece this back together.

#thanos squid game #thanos x reader #thanos fanfic #player 230 #squid game #squid game fanfic

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cowgiri · 6 hours ago

Text

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | between the thin walls of room two hundred fourty two took place a scandalous and more than obscene affair—one between a professor and his very own student. although it sounded rather futile and cliché, you enjoyed the cheesiness of it all way more than you should have.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 | prof!nanami, student!reader, sort of out of character nanami, infidelity, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, praise, semi public sex, age gap, dry humping, slight degredation, not proofread

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 | 3.2k

it was truly something innocent at first. the first day you laid your eyes on professor kento nanami was the day that you realized you had some unresolved issues. that day you had arrived at class a little earlier than expected to secure a good seat.

you had heard plenty of rumors about professor nanami—his reputation preceded him. although he was a little rough around the edges and well known for his ridiculously strict and difficult courses,no one ever denied his brilliance as an educator. but nothing could've prepared you for when he walked into the lecture hall.

a quiet air of authority clouded around him, he demanded the room just from his presence. his dress shirt was perfectly tailored to his sturdy body, his tie straight, and not a single strand of hair was out of place. there was something undeniable in the way that he carried himself—something so manly.

at first, it was purely academic admiration. you were fascinated by the way he dissected complex theories with ease, his explanations clear and concise. you admired his dedication to his work, the way he challenged his students to think critically and push beyond their limits. but as the weeks went by, your admiration began to shift into something else entirely.

it started with the way his eyes would linger on you during lectures, just a fraction of a second longer than necessary. then there were the subtle compliments—praise for your insightful contributions to class discussions, a nod of approval when you aced an assignment. it was innocent, professional, but it stirred something in you that you couldn't quite ignore.

soon your admiration turned into full blown infatuation. you remember feeling your thighs tighten when he spoke—his voice deep and low. you almost felt every word in your core. he was explaining some complex economic model. there was something about the way his eyes scanned the room. something about the way his lips curved ever so slightly when his gaze landed on you.

you shifted in your sit, crossing your legs tightly to bring relief to the tension between your thighs. you tried to focus on lecture, on the equation that he was writing on the chalkboard but you couldn't help but find your mind wandering. you wondered how that velvet voice would sound in your ears as he talked you through it. how those veiny and calloused hands would feel gripping your hips. the thought alone had your face hot and your legs pressed tighter than before.

when lecture ended, you lingered behind, pretending to gather your belongings as other students shuffled out of the lecture hall—a routine you had found yourself accustom to doing. you convinced yourself it was because you had a question regarding the material but in reality you couldn't resist being near him, even if it had to be just for a moment.

you heart pounded in your chest as you made your way down the stairs and towards the podium where he was packing his briefcase. he looked too good to be true. his golden strands catching the light of the early morning light from the lecture hall windows. his broad shoulder and bulky biceps strained under his dress shirt. his tie was loosened just enough to catch a glimpse of the column of his neck. his sleeved were rolled up revealing those delicious, veiny forearms.

you cleared your throat before you spoke as if that would ease the anxiety coursing through your veins.

"professor nanami," you said, your voice coming out calmer than expected. "i had a question about the-"

he looked up, his gaze sharp and calculated.

"yes?" he prompted, his tone stern but not unkind.

you hesitated, your mind suddenly blanked. all the questions you had ran through your head as you packed your bag had suddenly disappeared. you stood there clutching your textbook to your chest like a fool. he probably thought you were an idiot now. you should've just kept your mouth shut and just left along with your peers.

but then his eyes softened, just the slightest bit, if you had blinked you probably would've missed it. he set his bag down and leaned against the podium.

"take your time," he said, his voice dropping to that low tone that nearly made you weak in your knees. "i'm not going anywhere"

you swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, "its about the, um, keynesian model you were explaining," you stammered, your words coming out in a rush. "i had a difficult time understanding it."

he nodded, his expression unreadable, and gestured for you to follow him to his office. as you walked behind him, you couldn't help but notice how tall and big he was. he quite literally towered over you. his broad shoulders filled out his shirt perfectly. you tried hard to focus on anything except him, the walls, the floors, anything. but your eyes kept trailing back to him, tracing the muscles of his back with your eyes.

when you reached his office, he held the door open for you, his expression still unreadable. "after you," he said, his voice calm but firm.

you stepped inside, your heart pounding as you took in the room. it was exactly how you'd imagined it—neat, organized, and filled with the faint scent of his cologne. he closed the door behind you, the soft click making your breath hitch, and gestured for you to take a seat.

nanami had know better than anyone that you knew damn well what the keynesian model was. but he had decided to indulge his favorite student. he wanted to see how far you were willing to take this little charade. he had seen the way your eyes lingered on him during lectures, the way you practically squirmed in your seat when he caught you staring.

he had noticed the way you stayed behind after class, asking questions you didn't need answers to, just to have a reason to be near him. and he had felt the tension between you, thick and heavy, every time you stepped into his class in those obscene tops that showcased your nipple and those skimpy skirts. you were practically begging for it.

he had leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. then, slowly, he had begun to explain the topic again, his voice low and steady, his eyes never leaving yours. but as he spoke, something shifted. the atmosphere in the room grew heavier, more intimate, and you found it increasingly difficult to focus on his words.

your eyes kept drifting to his hand, the one adorned with his wedding ring. but frankly you didn't give a fuck. nanami was by no means a idiot, he knew what you wanted and he was in fact entertaining it.

it was then that he had leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk, and said, "you're a very.. dedicated student."

the way he had said it, the way his voice had dropped, the way his eyes had darkened, the way his gaze lingered on your revealing shirt that left nothing up to imagination. it sent a shiver down your spine. and before you could stop yourself, you had replied, "only for the right professor."

the air between you had shifted instantly. his eyes had narrowed, and for a moment, you thought you had crossed a line. you stood up before your mind was aware of what your body was doing. your chair scarped against the floor as you walked closer to him.

"careful," he had warned, his voice dropping to a whisper as his eyes racked over your body. "dedication can be dangerous."

the glint of his wedding ring caught your eye again. it served as reminder of the line that the two of you would be crossing.

"i know," you whisper as your eyes pleaded with him. and in that moment, the conserved and controlled kento nanami had lost control. it had been weeks of building up sexual tension, weeks of intentional lingering touches, weeks of words unsaid.

his hands gripped your waist throwing you into his lap. the moment his lips crashed into yours, all pretense of control shattered.

he was everywhere as if he couldn't decide where to touch you first. his kiss was hungry, almost brutal, his tongue claiming your mouth with a possessiveness that made your head spin. you moaned into him, your fingers clawing at his shoulders, desperate to pull him closer, to feel more of him.

his lips were relentless, claiming yours with a hunger that left you breathless. the taste of him—mint and something uniquely him—was intoxicating. your hands tangled in his hair as you made a mess of the golden locks that were almost never out of place. his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as if he was afraid you might slip away.

"fuck," he groaned against your lips, his voice low and strained as you started to slowly grind your core against the growing tent in his suit pants.

"naughty girl," he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with both amusement and arousal. "do you even realize what you're asking for?"

you gasped as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he tossed you on his desk. those biceps on him were definitely not just for show. papers and books scattered to the floor, but neither of you noticed or cared. all you could focus on was the heat of his body pressed against yours, the way his breath hitched when you ground your hips against him.

his hands gripped your hips, pulling you to the very edge, and you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your core, even through the layers of fabric separating you. you had suspected he was but not that big.

"need more," you beg as you tug at the buckle of his belt. "need it in me."

his hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you still, his breath hot against your ear. he slowly pulled your hand away from his belt.

"impatient, aren't we?" he murmured, his voice low and rough. you didn't answer, couldn't answer, because his hands were already pushing your skirt up around your waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. he pulled them down in one swift motion, tossing them aside, and you gasped as the cool air hit your bare cunt. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your wetness—swollen and needy from squirming in your seat.

"look at you," he cooed as his cold, calloused fingers ran up and down your fold. his fingers now coated in your wetness. the coolness of his fingers against your hot cunt had you curling your toes.

"watching me teach made you this much is a mess?" he questioned, his fingers stopping at your clit, flicking the hard bud. you flinched from pleasure at the sensation.

"have you no shame and manners, little miss?"

you nodded your head shamelessly. a shiver traveled up your spine as your secretions soaked his thick fingers. your hips moving involuntarily against the delicate touch of his fingertips—seeking some kind of relief, any kind of relief.

"you sit there in my lectures, looking so innocent, so attentive, and all the while, you're thinking about this? about me fucking you?" he teased as his fingers deliberately circled your clit in a slow and tantalizing manner. each tight circle sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

"yes," you admitted breathlessly, your voice trembling with need. "watching you...it drives me crazy. the way you talk, the way you move. c-can't stop thinking about you."

he smirked, his dark eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and desire.

"such a filthy little mind," he murmured, his voice dripping with both disapproval and arousal. "and here i thought you were such a good student."

you moaned, your hands gripping the edge of his desk as his fingers circled your entrance. a gasp falling from your lips when he inserted a thick digit into your wetness.

"i am a good student," you protested weakly, your voice breaking as he added a second finger, stretching you deliciously. "i just...i can't focus when you're around. you're all i think about."

a low and amused chuckle fell from his mouth.

"is that so?" he said, his tone teasing as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. you grip his forearm as your back arched off the table.

"and what exactly do you think about, hmm? do you imagine me bending you over this desk? fucking you until you can't even remember your own name?"

"y-yes, oh god yes," you practically pant as that intense feeling of pleasure pools in your stomach. the room is now filled with the lewd sounds of his finger squelching in your arousal.

"such a desperate little thing," he murmured as you rock against his fingers. he was teasing you, drawing you out, making a mess of you. his free hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

"do you think about me when you're alone at night? touching yourself, pretending it's my hands on you? my cock inside you?"

you nod frantically, your mouth agape and face contoured somewhere between pleasure and frustration. professor nanami had a more filthy mouth than you could've ever imagined.

"so honest, aren't you? what a good girl," he cooed as his free hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. his eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach twist in the best way.

before you could respond, he was sinking to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider. you face heated from embarrassment at how exposed you felt.

you gasped, your hands instinctively flying to the edge of the desk for support as his breath ghosted over your slick folds. his eyes locked with yours as he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your clit. the softness of his lips against your most sensitive spot nearly made you orgasm right than and there.

"m-more," you stammered, your voice trembling as his lips lingered there, teasing you with the faintest pressure.

he didn't respond, not with words. instead, he kissed you again, this time firmer, his lips pressing against your clit in a way that made your hips jerk involuntarily. a low, satisfied hum vibrated against you, and you could feel his smirk without even seeing it.

"she's so sensitive. so desperate for me," he murmured against your wetness. you practically quivered in anticipation as he spread your lips apart and harshly spat on your cunt. "so pretty, i bet she would look even prettier fucked out and stuffed with my cum."

oh, you were very wrong about nanami, he was anything but a gentleman, he was filthy man.

then his tongue was on you, dragging up your slit. you cried out, your back arching off the desk as pleasure shot through you.

"shhhh, quiet now before i stop, pretty girl," he warned as his hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue flicking and circling your clit with a precision that had your legs trembling.

it was nearly impossible to stay quiet, not when he was eating you like starved man. his nose on your swollen pearl as his tongue darted into your leaking hole. his hands gripped your thighs so tightly you knew they'd leave a mark later. and you loved it. you loved every single second of it.

"f-fuck," whimpered, your voice trembling as your hips bucked against his mouth, desperate for more. "t-too much."

your body trembling with need as he continued to feast on you. your thighs wrapped around his head and pulled at his hair trying to pull him closer, if that was even possible.

"holy shit," you gasped, your voice breaking as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. "y-yesss, gonna cum on your face, sir."

you swear that you saw white as your body shattered. you mind nearly melted at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. your muscles tightened, your leaking hole spasmed, and your clit pulsed uncontrollably as your orgasm drowned you. nanami didn't let up, his tongue and fingers worked you through your climax until you were gasping and trembling.

when he finally pulled away, you slumped back against the desk, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. your legs felt like jelly, your body still trembling from the intensity of your climax. he stood, his eyes dark and hungry as he wiped his mouth with the a handkerchief from his pocket, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

you laid there limp as you mind was still fogged from the overwhelming and out of body experience you just had.

"lift your hips," he instructed as he slid up your discarded garments of clothing up your legs. you blinked up at him slightly confused, your mind still reeling from the whirlwind of sensations. you complied as he returned your panties and skirt to their original state.

you were a little disappointed. you expected something more—you wanted to see him, to touch him to taste him, to feel him.

his jaw tightened, and he took a step back, putting distance between you.

"you should go," he said, his voice rough, almost strained.

"what? why?"

he ran a hand through his hair his tousled hair, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to see the struggle beneath.

"because if you don't leave now, i won't be able to stop myself from taking you," he admitted."and we both know that's not a good idea. especially here of all places, in my place of work and your place of education."

your heart raced at his words, the intensity in his gaze making your stomach twist with a mix of desire and apprehension. you wanted to protest, to tell him you didn't care, that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. but the look in his eyes, the way he was holding himself back, the tension in his shoulders, told you he was serious.

"go," he said again, his voice firmer this time.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. the door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to steady your breathing. your body was still humming with the aftershocks of what had just happened, but your mind was racing.

you took a deep breath, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your bag before walking down the hallway. but as you left, you couldn't help but glance back at his office door, your heart racing with the knowledge that this wasn't over. not even close.

it was far from over.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: i can’t wait to write more professor nanami, he stays on the brain allll dayyyyy

#nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk nanami #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento x you #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami smut #jjk smut #kento smut #kento nanami smut

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softlypaintedseafoam · 4 hours ago

Text

the summer moon was born from the waves to be loved

synopsis. you get pregnant and the ghost of university days past finds out five years later.

pairing. gojou satoru x f!reader (afab)

word count. 10.2k | masterlist

content warning. 18+ (mentions of sex but nothing explicit), college au (no powers), friends with benefits, pregnancy, hidden child trope, onesided feelings (unreliable narrator), use of y/n

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a repost of an old favorite two-part story of mine. this story originally came about as a what if discussion concerning characters from jjk to tokrev to even bllk and the gojou idea was the most inspiring so i really ran with it. pt 2 will be posted later this week. this is filler while i work on my current wips

o. ghost

This felt like something out of a bad movie.

One of those “yeah, that’s me. The one looking like she just shit herself because the ghost of Christmas past just showed up” kinds of movies. The ghost of Christmas past whom you haven’t seen in the last five years.

The ghost of Christmas past that your daughter looks at curiously, wondering who put you in such a stupor as she asks sweetly, “who’s he, Mommy?”

The ghost of Christmas past whose face is unreadable as he looks at Itsuki before he settles his gaze on you. “Yeah, [First],” the ghost asks. “Who am I?”

Where did I go wrong?

A rhetorical question.

A lot in life has to go wrong for a man you thought you left in your memories to show up at your doorstep but you can pinpoint the exact moment in time in which you screwed up. It’s all because you sat next to Ieiri Shoko in your mandatory calculus class. If it weren’t for that, none of this would be happening.

No, that isn’t it. Your gaze turns to Itsuki, who looks back at you with familiar light blue eyes and white hair. She may have gotten the Gojou Satoru eye and hair colors, but her hair texture and skin tone both pointed to you. If I sat anywhere else she wouldn’t be here. And even if you knew that sitting next to Shoko meant meeting the world’s most aggravating man you could have fallen for, you feel like you would have taken that path once again.

No, sitting next to Shoko wasn’t where you messed up all those years agoー it was telling her you were pregnant in the first place.

i. spring tide

When you met Gojou Satoru, you considered it a godsend.

Not because his eyes were a rare shade of blue that most would kill to have. Not because he was drop dead gorgeous and the last person you were expecting to see when your classmate Shoko invited you to eat lunch with her and a couple friends.

The reason was a lot more simple thatー he was the first person you’d met in years that had watched and liked Digimon more than Pokemon. I am so glad I sat next to that Shoko girl, you thought in gleeful disbelief as he told you his personal favorites before flipping the question onto you. “I’m basic,” you told him with a laugh. “I’ve been riding the wave of Gatomon love since I was 7.”

Getou Suguru, Satoru’s childhood best friend from what you’d gathered, groaned, “please don’t make him continue with your excitement.”

“Ignore him,” Satoru pushed Suguru’s face away with all the nonchalance in the world. “He thinks Digimon is stupid.”

“It’s a Pokemon bootleg!” Suguru shot back with a sly smile.

In unison, you and Satoru gasped in disbelief and offense. “Boy bye! You can talk all the shit you want about Digimon, I can rest every night at ease knowing if my house were on fire Agumon would be able to say ‘[First], your house is on fire’,” you sneered in jest at the man, Satoru clapping in agreement all the while at your defense. “You don’t get that kind of insurance with Pikachu! ‘Pika pika’ could mean so many things!”

“Where have you been all my life?” Satoru snickered, holding his hand out for a high five you reciprocated with complete enthusiasm.

“Watching Digimon by myself,” you laughed, whipping out your phone. You needed this man’s number stat. “The next time I have a Digimon rewatch, I’m inviting you over. Like, you don’t have the option to refuse, you’ve doomed yourself.”

Satoru’s eyes were gleaming from his lowered shades, “funny, I was about to say the exact same thing to you,” he glanced over at Suguru with a teasing look. “Friendship ended with Suguru, [First] is my new best friend,” the white-haired student declared as he typed his number into your phone.

He labeled himself Digidestined Satoru, sending a text to himself: This is coming from the phone of Digidestined [First]. Your cheeks hurt from how widely you were grinning as you looked at the message. “That better be what you put me in your phone.”

“Definitely, new best friend,” Satoru promised, whipping his own phone around to show your new contact in it. Digidestined [First] it was.

Despite the apparent disownership, Suguru looked amused and unbothered, “okay but see if your ex-best friend takes notes for you if you ever take off from class.” Suddenly your new brother-in-Digimon was singing a different tune, waxing poetic about how Digimon and Pokemon were brothers from different mothers. You rolled your eyes but you’re unmistakably giddy as you watched him talk with his hands.

“There doesn’t need to bad blood between the two,” Satoru ended with a grand bow. “As such, I declare that I can have more than one best friend.”

“How did we even get on the topic of Digimon,” Shoko asked with an amused look on her face, cracking open another beer. “That was so random.”

You grabbed your own beer with a light giggle, you felt rather light compared to how you started this day. “His sunglasses had a Metal Greymon-like pattern and I had to say something about it,” you say after a few sips. “Glad I did because now I have a new brother-in-Digimon.”

Blue eyes held your gaze for a moment and you clacked your cans together in celebration.

That was how your friendship started. Clothed in beer and Digimon. It took about a week before he swept over to your place, seeking out the promise to watch Digimon together. If you can really call what you did watching, you spent more than half of the time talking over the episodes about miscellaneous topics than actually watching Tai and the gang try to get back to the physical world.

He’d known Suguru since he was 5.

(“We got into a fight on the playground. I wanted the swing and he wouldn’t get off. So I kicked him and he threw sand at my face, we’ve been buddies ever since.”

“I have a lot of questions about how y’all went from trying to kill each other to being best friends.”

“Look, don’t question our methods.”)

He was a December Sagittarius, born December 7th.

(”Yeah, I can tell!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

He apparently started eating sweets to stimulate his brain but ended up with a sweet tooth.

(“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, did you get that shit from Death Note?!”

“…. no.”

“Oh my god, you did!”

“You literally got a tattoo of a butterfly because of a crush you had on Jolyne from Part 6, shut up!”

“Satoru, don’t play these games with me.”)

He sounded eerily similar to Bruno Bucciarati from part 5 of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.

(”Arrivederci!”

“Oh my god that’s insane! You do! Say something else!”

“STICKY FINGERS!!!”

“PFFT-”

“See? I could totally get away with saying I voiced him and no one would bat an eyelash.”

“Who else do you sound like?”

“I’ve been told I make a great impression of Kuroo from Haikyuu!!”

He did, by the way.)

And he was currently enrolled as a business major.

(“My old man wouldn’t get off my back about it. You?”

“Marine biology.”

“We have that program here?”)

He had a natural charisma that just drew people in, yourself included. That’s why you think it was so easy being with him, he made it feel like you’d been friends all your life even if reality said otherwise. He made everyone feel like that, that’s why he’d always be surrounded by people.

Still, he’d find a way to make you feel special when his eyes would light up in recognition when he saw you wave across the room at parties.

How he’d jig across the room with those lanky limbs of his to grab you in a hug. “[First], you finally made it! Thanks for coming out of the bat cave you call a room to grace us with your presence!”

It made you feel special that you were friends with the person adored by everyone else. That’s why you could playfully push him off of you and say, “you mean the bat cave you crawl to when you lock yourself out of your room and Suguru isn’t in either?”

“I’m hurt, why are you being mean to me?” Satoru pouted batting his white eyelashes like a distressed damsel. “Don’t you know who you’re being mean to when you’re being an ass? This, this is who you’re being mean to,” he gestured to himself.

“Last week you ate my fries after I specifically said not to touch them because I counted how many I had left, I know exactly who I’m being mean to.”

“How was I supposed to know you’d count them again whenever you decided to eat them?” Your irritation from last week had long since passed though, that was why you could laugh it off with a shake of your head. Satoru was Satoru, it was what you liked most about him even if he could be a pain in the ass.

Suguru’s brown eyes twinkled as you joined the small fray of him, Shoko and Utahime in a corner of the room, “I’m just glad I’m not the only one dealing with him anymore.” Satoru suck his tongue out with a ‘rude’.

“Someone has to do the dirty work,” Shoko replied as she raised a cigarette to her lips. “it might as well be us.”

Utahime smacked the tobacco stick out of her girlfriend’s hands as she said, “I’d rather not be included in the list of people of doing the dirty work.”

“Et tu, [First], et tu?” Satoru asked when you made no effort to come to his defense.

You raised your hands in mock defense, “I have to be a little mean to you sometimes, Satoru,” you told him with a snicker. “It keeps you from getting too big an ego.”

Whether or not that was working was debatable.

The night went on smoothly until your favorite brand of beer had been noticeably picked off from the coolers.

That’s my cue to leave.

“Sorry gang, but my lips don’t touch anything but Don Equis and Asahi,” you said with an air of regality not suited for a party of college students. “Maybe Corona if there’s nothing else. I’m not drinking… whatever this is. So I’m gonna head out, there’s a 24 hour liquor store around here somewhere.”

A chorus of farewells came from your friends minus one. “You coming back?” Satoru looked over at you in earnest.

But you shook your head, “nah, I think I’m done for the night,” you told him truthfully. Your social battery was gone for the rest of the evening and home was the only place you wanted to be. “I’ll catch you guys later though,” you stood up with a stretch.

Satoru stood up with you, “I’ll walk you back to your place then.”

Which was how you ended up sipping beers at the park, laying on soft grass. It wasn’t truly quiet, not with the passing of cars and the occasional passersby but it was quiet enough compared to the welcomed ruckus of the party. “Satoru,” Satoru hummed wordlessly in acknowledgement. “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugged back pressed against the earth snuggly. “I never really got to think about it.”

He was an only child and as such the only one his parents’ turned their gaze to with pressure of taking over the family business. He confided in you ages ago how he hated it when you started seeing more sides of Satoru than the mischief-loving comedian he presented himself as.

You scooted closer to him to lean over his head, “well I think whatever you end up doing, even if it ends up really pissing off your dad, you’ll be great at it. You’re Satoru, that’s how I know you’ll be fine,” your voice held the tone of a promise. I promise you’ll be fine and you’ll be happy.

Thanks, [First]. You liked to think that was what that look on Satoru’s face meant. “I think you’ll make a great part-time aquarist, full-time whale researcher,” Satoru replied instead.

“You’re damn right I will,” you smiled warmly at him, moving a stray strand of his hair off his forehead. “Be careful I don’t disappear for months, spirited away by the sea folk on my Children of the Sea shit.” You took his sunglasses off, you had no clue how he was able to wear them 24/7. Even stranger was how he was still able to walk so easily at night despite having them on. Apparently the Gojou eye genes were built different; the colors of his eyes certainly were. “I’ll come back to shore occasionally, mysterious as the sea itself.” The sea you got to see every time you looked at his eyes, even if now they were barely visible even with the street lights.

Satoru looked back at you with a small smirk, “even if you got spirited away, I’d just go and bring you right back. Suguru’ll kill me if I try and make him watch Digimon Tamers with me again. You said it first, remember?” His voice was low as he recalled your exact words from your first meeting. “You’ve doomed yourself. There’s no ditching me now, not even at sea.”

“I did say something like that, didn’t I,” you smiled wryly.

He didn’t say anything back, but you could guess that he was likely thinking something along the lines ‘yep, that you did. No take backsies.’ A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, his eyes staring up at yours. It’s then you swore you saw him glance at your lips from where he laid and just when you considered the idea of kissing himー the sprinklers turned on.

Even worse, in your surprise his head clashed into yours as he tried getting up with a start.

Then there was a dash of bullshit on the side when your beers spilled over into the grass.

Great, you thought as Satoru tossed your emptied cans into a nearby trash can after you got out of the line of fire. You shook your arms, droplets of water flying off your soaked sleeves.

You should have taken that as a major sign from the universe that you would be making a mistake of gargantuan proportions if you kissed that man.

Instead, the two of you looked at each other and laughed. “God I hate this park, why do we even come here? Nothing good ever happens when we do,” Satoru said with a shake of his damp hair.

“This is the first time we’ve ever even come here,” you snickered.

“And see what a great start we’re already having with it?”

“Come on,” you tugged him by the wrist. “Let’s just change at my place, you have some clothes somewhere over there.”

A smarter person would have left it at that once you got home and showered, placing your clothes in the wash. It could have been a pleasant end to the evening, the two of you crashing on the couch while watching some dumb movie you never heard of on Netflix.

But the same atmosphere from the park came back with you when he came out of the bathroom at the same time you planned to knock on it to ask if he wanted something warm to drink. “Oh, sorry-” you say when your fist lightly landed on his chest instead of the door. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted tea or something. I bought your favorite brand of honey.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” he answered but you made no move to go to the kitchen and he made no move to ask when you would.

Who kissed who first, you weren’t sure. It didn’t really hit you that you were kissing until Satoru tore his lips from yours with a pant, “hey how drunk are you because I really just wanna make sure-”

“I’m not,” you pulled his lips back onto yours and Satoru hadn’t wasted time in hoisting you up by the legs.

ii. neap tide

When does one stop sleeping with their friend? You suppose it is probably when you realize you have feelings for them.

You didn’t do that.

If it had been anyone else doing this to themselves, you would have told them to cut the cord while the feelings were still manageable.

Or maybe you at least tell the other party how they felt.

You didn’t do that either.

Maybe that was why it was all catching up to you one day when you woke up feeling like crap. The physical manifestation of your stress coming back to bite you in the ass. Right before the trip you were planning on taking with your friends, you started feeling like crap only exacerbated when Satoru was in your presence.

But you still went despite your physically manifested stress because you’re a pushover. Or more specifically, if it involved Satoru, you folded faster than Sunday morning laundry. You had to when he looked at you in concerned disbelief you were trying to drop out of your plans last minute.

“Satoru, it isn’t the end of the world if I stay home. It’s just a week long break.”

“A week long break from your friends? From me? Your best friend?”

You struggled not to laugh, “last week you said I was kicked from that position because I watched one episode of Love is Blind without you.”

Satoru scowled at the memory, “because that’s our show, we started that together, there’s no watching ahead,” he reprimanded you. “And clearly I’ve forgiven you since you’re back in that position because I can’t believe you’re trying to leave me to survive with a couple and Suguru for a week!”

You puckered your lips and shrugged, “if it’s any consolation, Suguru is your boyfriend like 95% of the time.”

“Well right now Suguru is that asshole Kenjaku’s boyfriend and Kenjaku is supposed to be coming and I do not want to fourth wheel that by myself.”

You flicked his nose softly, “so you want me to third party fourth wheel with you so you don’t have to be alone with two couples?”

Satoru grinned and you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. “Third party fourth wheel with benefits, yes.”

You stared at him for one, two, three seconds before you relented. “Look, I’m only going because I want the sex, not because I’m happily agreeing to fourth wheel with you.”

Satoru whooped regardless in his victory, “works for me!” He chortled as he went back to scrolling on his phone.

Silence fell over you as fiddled with your pointer finger and thumb.

“Hey,” Satoru spared a glance from whatever he was staring at on twitter. “What are we supposed to be?” Blue eyes grew to the size of saucers and you continued, “Classic no strings attached? Or is this supposed to be going somewhere?”

That made him set down his phone, “why,” he licked his lips before grinning, but it looked forced even to your eyes. “Why are you asking me that so randomly?”

You deserved an Oscar for how smoothly you delivered what came from your mouth. “Well what if the receptionist there is hot? I don’t need to make things between us awkward because it turned out we aren’t on the same page,” you thumbed behind you in the direction of the hotel. “‘What the hell, [First]’,” you deepened your voice, puckering your bottom lip as you whined. “‘I thought we had something special and you fucked the receptionist? What if they end up fucking with our reservation now?!’”

“First of all, that is not what I sound like,” Satoru stuck his tongue out at you but his shoulders were relaxed and subtle he tried to be, you could feel the relief rolling off of him in waves. “Second, fucking the receptionist does sound like a terrible idea because what if they do fuck our reservation because things go south? Just find someone at a club like the rest of us. But fucking someone else is a non-issue, get all the ass you want.”

“Well glad to know I have the Gojou Satoru thumb of approval,” you smiled and Satoru grinned in return, giving you a nudge with his elbow and you nudged him back. Underneath the calm, you were a storm of turbulent emotions. You weren’t surprised, your feelings had been confirmed. This wasn’t a Disney movie. You weren’t Tiana and he wasn’t Naveenー you weren’t going to turn this commitment-phobe into something he wasn’t. Yet the pain of the confirmation echoed in your chest. “Well, not when it comes to the receptionist.”

“Because no one fucks someone with the power of their reservation at their fingertips, that’s like,” Satoru searched his mind for the perfect example. “Handing over the poison to a chef and that chef was the person you were planning on poisoning.” So is continuing to sleep with someone who didn’t want the same things as you.

You couldn’t help laughing at your idiocy, relieved that Satoru took it as a humorous dig at his less than perfect metaphor. “I’m still fucking the receptionist if they’re hot.”

“I hope they’re married and old, how about that?”

“I’ve always liked them with a little salt and pepper. I fucked your prematurely whitening headass, didn’t I?”

“First of all, this is all natural-”

You’ve doomed yourself.

iii. red tide

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

Those are the five stages of grief. It was certainly the steps that you experienced when the fact your period was late hit you while you were floating when Utahime gasped about the sea turning red.

Red tide, it was the first you’d ever seen it. But that excitement or concern about the possibility of what that meant completely subsided as you stared at the reddening shoreline when you realized a noticeable absence of red that week.

There was no way you were late for any particular reason. This was one of those flukes, your period always had a tendency to be finicky. It would be early or late at its convenience, never mind you being the one suffering. That’s why it was absolutely ludicrous that you left the beach to buy a pregnancy test.

And if you were the word you refused to think, it was your own damn fault for playing with karma the one time you decide to trust Satoru’s pullout game. Both of you were stupid, very very turned on and stupid and you should have just waited to get a condom.

But in the chance you weren’t pregnant, you swore you were going to remain celibate the rest of your university experience. You’d focus on other things, like journaling consistently like you said you would when you were writing your New Year’s revolutions.

Bargaining means nothing to biology, however, that was what you took as the universe’s answers when you were forced to look at the positive result staring back at you.

A lot of thoughts would run through a person’s head at an unplanned pregnancy resulting from a very ill-advised friends with benefits relationship.

Were you still in depression? Or had you reached acceptance yet? You weren’t entirely sure as you stared out the sparkling sea. Your sight blurring the stars above and the stars below did little reassure you as the possibilities ran through your mind.

What would you tell Satoru?

How would he react?

Would he think this was why you asked him about where your relationship was supposed to be heading?

Would assume the worst of you and accuse you of trying to trap him into a relationship when it was clearly supposed to be no strings attached from the beginning?

You didn’t know which unknown would hurt you more.

I should really decide on whether or not I’ll keep it to begin with before I start with all the scenarios, you inhaled deeply with shudder but you didn’t bother to wipe your tears. The blurriness was your own punishment. If I don’t, I never have to tell him anything. We can just cut this off and he’ll be none the wiser.

It was the most optimal scenario when you were still in college. You were barely handling the fees you currently had to pay for school, a child definitely wouldn’t help with that.

Was it too late to find something unhealthy to use as a coping mechanism?

“Yo,” you could have laughed bitterly. Of course, this is when Satoru shows up now. Right after you’ve isolated yourself away from everyone else on the more populated part of the beach. He was grinning, you could hear it in his voice. “[Fir]- hey are you alright?”

Great.

“Yeah, it’s just, you ever see something so beautiful you want to cry? It’s one of those things,” when he looked unsure, you grinned widely and wiped your tears. You didn’t need him to suspect a damn thing. “Seriously, dude, this was the reason I wanted to go into marine biology as a kid. I saw a picture of it once and decided, I wanna see that too. It’s just a surreal moment for me.”

At your reassurance, Satoru sighed, “geez, don’t freak me out like that.” You snorted as he settled next to you and you couldn’t think of anything humorous to say.

“Pretty cool, right?” The blue of the bioluminescence was reminiscent of his eyes, the thought crossed your mind now that he was in front of you.

Satoru whistled, impressed, “yeah but what is it?” He slapped a foot down on the ground, whistling again at the additional sparkling at the stimulus. “You’re the marine biologist, explain the science to me.”

“Sea sparkle,” you told him with a snort, heart drumming all the while. “I never thought I’d see something like this in my life. Red tides are signs of algal blooms are going to happen. They can be harmful but sometimes, completely harmless. This is the completely harmless kind,” a sparkling wave rolled across your feet as if to prove your point. “Well, technically harmless, there’s some conflicting evidence on whether or not it’s okay to swim in. We shouldn’t touch or swim in it to be safe. It’s just been a childhood dream of mine to do this, so don’t tell my friends in the not-dumb-scientist community. And wash your skin really really well tonight before going to bed.”

A grin blossomed on his face in his usual expression of mischief, “I ain’t no snitch.”

“Good because if you do I’m telling Shoko it was you that ate her leftovers,” you stuck your tongue out petulantly and Satoru kicked a splash at your thigh.

“Anyways,” Satoru drawled, observing the glow of his footsteps in the sand. “How long will it last?”

“It depends, sometimes a week. Sometimes a month,” definitely longer than the two of you and the situationship you’ve maintained thus far. “Once the food source runs out, they’re out. But hopefully they’ll be here the rest of our vacation, it’s pretty cool, right?”

“Yep, pretty damn cool,” he repeated like you hadn’t already asked that question earlier.

Satoru wasn’t yours, nothing was going to change that.

iv. ebb

If I’m not going to tell him, I need to leave.

That was the conclusion you came to after ultimately deciding to keep your child. Gojou Satoru wasn’t yours to keep, that was more than apparent. You wouldn’t force him to stay by means of a pregnancy.

You weren’t the first single mother in existence, you doubted you’d be the last. You’d do everything, without his help. Everything would be figured out in due time, it didn’t matter the run around you would have to take.

It took a week after the trip for you to come to that conclusion, packing your bags so you could head home. You’d transfer to a different school, there was no way you’d be able to keep a pregnancy underwraps on campus. Especially not from your friends.

You tried to distance yourself from your friends slowly, but even an inch was noticeable.

You alright?

What kind of sadists are your professors if you’re this busy?

Just let me know if you need me to come over some kind of distraction. Sorry for coming over earlier unannounced, I shouldn’t have assumed. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Those were the texts Satoru sent you the most. If any your friends doubted you, it seemed Satoru doubted you the most despite your reassurance that once you got your workload more manageable you’d be more available. You told him things were fine, maybe he just doubted you because you never told him he couldn’t come over whenever he felt like it. That was how things had been since you became friends.

Your place was his place, his place was yours.

That’s why Shoko had to be at your apartment, arms crossed and looking thoroughly tired.

“What’s been up with you anyway?” Shoko barged into your apartment before you could stop her. “Satoru’s been driving me insane asking me to check on you.” So she said, but you saw the worry on her face even if she tried to hide it. “So what’s going on? He says he’s pretty sure something is going on and you don’t want to tell him. Are you failing a class or something?”

“Nothing,” you told her a little too quickly and the brunette gave you a look that said ‘girl, please’. If your attempt to look as composed as possible wasn’t doing you favors, neither was how messy your room was. “Seriously, Shoko, I’m fine. Satoru’s just being overdramatic. It’s Satoru, you should know this. He went to your clinic once for almost breaking a nail.”

Shoko rolled her eyes at the memory, “yeah but now he’s pestering me to see if you’re actually fine or if you’re just trying to shut him out,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before the concern peeps out of her face. “He said once in high school Suguru pushed him away and stuff went bad between them for a while. He felt like it was his fault for not trying hard enough to see what was bothering him. The rest of us are being chill about everything but we are worried too, you know. Just considerably less dramatically than others.”

That made your heart twist in both in the best and worst ways.

“It’s…” you took a step back and held yourself. “It’s fine. Tell Satoru he’s just being dramatic.”

“Then why is your suitcase out?” [Color] stared into brown as Shoko’s look told you that she wouldn’t drop it until you came clean to her. “Is it that serious? I won’t force you to talk about it, but I at least want to know how okay you are and it’s something you can manage on your own. That’s all, I promise I won’t say anything to Satoru if you really don’t want him knowing,” she’s the most gentle you’ve ever seen her. Only Utahime is privy to the softest of Shoko’s expressions but you can’t help but appreciate the look of worry she has. But I don’t want you to just up and disappear on us either.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I,” you licked your lips and sat down on your couch. “I’m thinking of transferring to another school.”

Shoko peers into your face, “and you’re worried about how we’ll take it?”

You shook your head. “I am worried about that but, I’m more worried about the why I need to leave. My parents will probably freak out too, but I’m going to promise them this isn’t going to stop me from pursuing my education.” Wide as her eyes already were, Shoko’s eyes were practically the size of dinner plates. You cut her off before she could say anything else. “I’m pregnant. I found out on the trip we took.”

…

“It’s Satoru’s,” it wasn’t a question.

Your silence was enough of an answer.

“You’re plan was to transfer schools because you don’t want to tell him you’re pregnant?” Shoko’s eyes were wide and you looked away from her. “[First], you can’t expect me to not tell him about-”

Your eyes snapped back to look at her, “you can’t tell him about this.”

Shoko shook her head, “this isn’t just your kid-”

“I’m the one who’s pregnant, I’m the one who decides what to do with it! It’s none of his business!”

Shoko probably would have slapped you if you weren’t expecting, “it’s his kid too, of course it’s his business!”

“Fine,” you muttered coldly, fixing your friend with a cold stare. “I’ll tell him if you can tell me you genuinely think it’s going to go well. That you can really Gojou Satoru dropping everything to become a father for a kid he never planned on having with someone he never planned on being with. Mr. Heir of the Gojou Conglomerate Satoru,” you remember his genuine fear and subsequent genuine relief. “Hell, that he won’t think I tried babytrapping him because I asked him recently if he saw what we had going anywhere and he clearly didn’t want that. And even if he doesn't, do you think his parents would be happy with this? Truly?”

Shoko couldn’t say anything.

You shook your head with a humorless huff, “yeah, that’s what I thought too.” You paused to close your eyes and inhale deeply before looking at your friend once more. “I’m not telling him anything. I don’t need his help to raise this baby, I can do this myself.”

Shoko eyes are dark and you knew she was second guessing everything. “[First]-”

“You can’t tell him anything. Not even Suguru, especially not Suguru. He’d tell him right away.” Suguru was your friend, he was a great friend even. But you knew where his loyalties lied. He’d tell Satoru in a heartbeat. “Please,” you pleaded. “I’m asking you as your friend.”

Shoko reached for the pack of cigarettes sticking out of her pocket before dropping her hand to the side. Right, your pregnancy.

You looked at her in desperation, biting your lip. “Please, I’d never ask you this if it wasn’t important. Satoru doesn’t want me,” your eyes stung at the admission even if you accepted that truth ages ago. “Not the way I want him.”

“I,” Shoko released a shaky breath. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

You dropped out of school without a word to your friends before the month ended.

v. moon

五条・五月。

Gojou Itsuki; you considered writing that on her birth certificate when she was born. Instead, it was your last name Itsuki received.

五, that was the only part of Satoru you would give her, the ‘five’ in Gojou. You promised that little girl you would love her five times as much for his absence.

vi. flow

That all brought you back to now in the present, Gojou Satoru sitting beside you on a park bench while you daughter looked nervously between you both. “Go on then,” you sweep your hand in the direction of the swings. “I’ll be sitting right here, okay? Have some fun with the other kids.”

Yet like moth to a flame, the man with snowy white hair is all your daughter can focus on. “But who is he?”

Satoru opens parts his lips and you beat him to the introductions, “he’s just an old friend of Mama’s, that’s all. Like Aunt Shoko. We haven’t seen each other in a while and we just want to catch up, that’s all. Right?” You shoot Satoru a pleading look.

“That’s right,” Satoru beams. “Maybe I can push you on the swings later.” That makes Itsuki grin back widely. She looks so much like him that there is no denying who she is to him. You know it and so does he.

The smile drops the moment Itsuki is out of an earshot. “You really never planned to tell me about her,” his eyes that normally remind you of crystal clear seas look more akin to frigid chips of ice as he looks at you. “You stop talking to me, you block me on everything out of nowhere and when you dropped out of school, I had no idea where you were-”

“Satoru, you have to understand,” you start, it sounds weak even to you.

Satoru looks at you with a look of pure offense. You can read his mind clearly, “What is there to understand?”

“This was the best outcome for everyone involved. You, me and Itsuki.”

“That isn’t the kind of thing you decide on your own, it takes two to make a child, [First]!”

“We’re not arguing in front of my daughter, Gojou Satoru.”

“No,” the smile that spreads across Satoru’s face is feral. You’ve seen that smile before, one he had whenever he was on the brink of swinging and starting a fight. Never before had that smile been directed at you. “She’s our daughter. My daughter. And I had to find out from Shoko five years after she’s been born that she ever existed in the first place!”

“Like you wanted to be a father anyway,” you hiss, glancing at the growing concern on Itsuki’s face.

“You didn’t even bother asking me what I wanted,” Satoru snaps back. “I would have helped. I want to help.”

“I didn’t want or need your help then and I sure as hell don’t need it now,” you stand up, swinging your wrist away from the large hand that tries to stop you. “You aren’t even her birth certificate,” Satoru flinches like you shot him. “Not your name, not your birthday, not anything. Itsuki’s never even asked about her father,” a lie. It isn’t nearly so frequent as to be considered a problem, but Itsuki did ask about the whereabouts of her father every so often. “It’s just us, Itsuki, I keep telling you that.”

“Do I have another mommy then?”

“No, it’s just us.”

Still, she asks. But Gojou Satoru didn’t need to know about that. “Just go the hell away and leave us alone. I’m not asking for your help, I’ve been doing this alone so far and I plan to keep it that way.”

You take Itsuki home, telling her not to mind the sad-looking man you left on the bench.

“Before you say anything,” Shoko starts when she answers the phone. “I know you’re pissed off.”

“No shit,” you all but seethe at your closest friend. Itsuki is asleep and it takes all of your willpower to not turn a firm but loud whisper into shrieks of hysteria. “Shoko, what the-”

“[First], I had to tell him,” Shoko sighs and you can practically smell the nicotine through. “I get it, you were scared back then but Satoru deserved to know he is a father. Itsuki deserves a chance to get to know her father!”

“You don’t get to decide what my kid needs,” you retort immediately. “We have been doing just fine without him in our lives and that’s how I wanted to keep it. Now she keeps asking about the man with the white hair and why he looked so sad and-”

“This isn’t one of those situations where you had a surrogate and did this all on your own, [First]. And he isn’t some random stranger you met some campus party years ago, this is a friend! Why on earth would you tell him that you never put him on the birth certificate.”

“Was. He was a friend,” you correct her. You push back the memories of late night study sessions gone awry by Satoru shoving his phone in your face to show you some video in his recommended list. You ignore the creeping reminders of sharing shit-eating grins, waiting for the moment Suguru learned that you changed his autocorrect for chocolate into something stupid. “We haven’t been friends in years, we’re just old school acquaintances at this point. You know why I never told him about her. And I said it so he would have an out; he doesn’t need to stick around to be her father.”

“And what if she gets tired of you skirting around her questions about him?” Shoko shoots back without giving you a moment to reply that you would handle it if it ever got to the point that it became a problem. “You might be able to skirt around it now but when she gets older she is going to ask and ask and askー and she is going to keep on asking before she does research of her own! There was no way you’d be able to keep this a secret for the rest of her life, what were you planning to do then?!”

“… I was going to figure that out by then.”

“Right and that was going to go by so smoothly and Itsuki wouldn’t feel hurt or betrayed you took away the choice for her to get to know her dad. That could ruin your entire relationship with her.”

“You couldn’t have at least asked?!”

“You never let me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I betrayed your trust and said things behind your back. I told him to at least let me call and tell you that he knew, but he wanted to meet Itsuki.”

“I just…” your back hit the wall and you slid to the floor, resting your head on your knees. “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t think I would ever see him again.”

There’s silence when Shoko hesitates to reply to your tired voice, “look, I get it. As much as I can try to get it, anyway.” There is only so much that your child-free doctor of a friend can relate to when it comes to your situation. Things worked out perfectly for her when she fucked a friend, Utahime and Shoko’s names were written in the stars. You only admit your envy on lonely nights when thoughts of university days past make a reappearance.

“Satoru is a lot of things. He’s a clown, he’s insufferable and he’s Gojou Satoru that’s enough trouble as it is,” much to your chagrin, you can’t help snorting at her comment. “But he should have a chance to get to know his daughter. You’re a great mom, you’ve been doing great without him. I’ve seen you handle everything, you even went back to school to get your degree. You’ve got the job, everything. I’m not trying to say you need his help, I just want you to be open to the idea of letting him get to know her.”

You think of Itsuki and her questions and the look of hurt that graced Satoru’s face earlier that afternoon. “I don’t want Itsuki to get attached to him only for him to take off,” but a bitter taste fills your mouth at your words. I’m only using Itsuki as an excuse, you can only admit to yourself. The one who doesn’t want to see her father is me.

Fearful you may have been, it was no excuse to keep her away from her father.

“If he does that, I’ll kill him myself. But he wants to be there,” Shoko promises, her voice the softest its been the entire conversation. “He wants to get to know her. She looks just like him.”

She does.

You grab a baby wipe, rolling your eyes in amusement, “Itsuki, you’re getting syrup all over your face, hold still,” gently, you wipe away the sugary mess on her face before it dries and becomes even stickier. Itsuki always leaves the table looking like she’s been off to war. “You definitely don’t get your messy eating habits from me. Let me clean your hands and the fork too.”

Itsuki’s eyes sparkle curiously, “is Daddy a messy eater?”

You look at your daughter, her white hair pulled into pigtails by pastel knockerballs and her blue eyes that sparkle with hope that you’ll have some sort of answer as to the mystery of her secret parent she doesn’t realize she’s already met. “Yeah,” you whisper softly, the ghost of smile on your lips. “He got pretty messy whenever we ate.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and he would always steal the chips out of my bag whenever he thought I wasn’t looking,” you smile knowingly. He isn’t the only one guilty of such a crime. “Kinda like how someone always takes extra bites out of my pudding cups when she thinks I’m not looking.” Itsuki erupts into giggles as you pinch her cheeks now free of syrup. “You really want to meet your papa, don’t you,” you ask almost weakly, resting your hand on the table.

With a nod of excitement, Itsuki answers your question with an unmistakable yes.

“What if Mommy brings Daddy to pick you up from daycare soon? Would you like that?”

Itsuki gasps in disbelief, “Really?!”

Your nerves don’t show as you grin in return, “really.”

The first few rings you wait for Satoru to pick up the phone later in the day are painful.

I should have just asked Shoko to do this, you pace anxiously in the employee parking lot of your job. A childish part of you wishes you had asked your friend seeing as she had already spilled the beans to you. But you remember the more than subtle tone in her voice when she mentioned the other day that Satoru’s number hadn’t changed in all the years you spent out of his life. He’s the father of your child, [First], you scold yourself. Get a grip.

A second later when he picks up the line, you almost hang up in a panic.

“… Hey, [First],” he sounds like he’s grinning but it lacks his usual bravado. “You didn’t change your number.”

“Neither did you,” you reply nervously, fiddling with the fabric of your uniform as the expected awkward silence filled the air. Five years ago, Satoru was one of the easiest people in the world to talk to. Annoying and arrogant at times, most of the times even, but still easy. He spoke his mind clearly; it’s hard reconciling that person with the silence on the other side of the phone. “I shouldn’t have kept Itsuki from you,” you finally begin. “And I shouldn’t have said what I did yesterday, you have a right to be mad at what I did. I’m sorry.”

Satoru’s sigh is slow, “why didn’t you tell me in all these years? If Shoko never said anything, were you really not going to tell me about her at all?”

“Can we not-”

“No, I get to know why you didn’t want to let me know I had a daughter,” Satoru’s voice hardens and you know that running away isn’t an option. Old habits seem to die hard. “You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant.”

“I was scared, okay?” Scared and pathetically in love with someone who didn’t want you back. “I didn’t know how you were going to react… and I didn’t know if you would want to be part of the baby’s life if I decided to keep it. We weren’t even a couple. I freaked out and thought this was best course of action.”

“I would have helped, I would have been there. We were friends, [First],” you can’t tell if he sounds more angry or sad with your younger self’s line of reasoning. “You really thought I would have let you done everything on your own? I would have had your back from day one.”

“…. I’m sorry, I can’t take it back but I’m sorry,” you rest your back against the side of your car. The breeze on your skin doesn’t calm you as much as you’d like.

Satoru sighs again and he’s quiet, contemplative and your heart races wondering what is going through his mind. Would he curse you? Maybe he would take you to court for his parental rights. Instead, Satoru peacefully asks, “what’s she like?”

“Adorable,” your lips quirk slightly at the thought of your child. “I’m pretty sure Shoko’s probably shown you some pictures, so you probably know that already.” Painfully adorable and the entire world knew it, it’s a blessing she isn’t nearly as much of a troublemaker as her father. If she were, you don’t doubt Itsuki would get away with most of her ‘crimes’. “She’s a sweet girl, if she sees a caterpillar on the neighbor’s strawberries, she’ll pick it up and ask if we can take it to the park so it can eat there instead.”

You both share a laugh at that. “She’s smart too, she just sucks things up like a sponge. And she’s popular at daycare, you know,” she gets it from her father, that is easy to admit. Satoru definitely surpasses everyone you know, yourself included, when it comes to attracting people to him. Even when he’s annoying you can’t help but be drawn in. “She’s good at making friends, always looks out for the ones there who have a harder time connecting with people.”

“It’s nice to know she got all her charm and good looks from me,” Satoru chuckles smugly. “It’s a no-brainer the people love her, I expect nothing less from my kid.”

“Oh shut up,” yet you can’t deny his claim. She is Gojou Satoru’s daughter through and through. “She’s a lovable kid; Itsuki was born for it.”

“Was Itsuki the only name in the running?”

“It’s a pretty name, isn’t it? There were others in the running though,” you count down on your fingers the various options you ultimately decided against. “Itsuki stuck out the best.”

“What characters did you use to write her name?”

“The characters for ‘Five’ and ‘Moon’,” you answer softly, remembering the various combinations you could have gone with. Ultimately, there was only one that you could have gone with. “I got the idea from your last name, I… I wanted her to have a part of you with her even if she didn’t know you.”

There’s a pause then a shaky breath. “Gojou Itsuki,” Satoru says finally, sounding a million miles away despite being just on the other line.

“She has my name,” you tell him gently.

“I know,” Satoru replies softly yet there’s a tinge of emotion you can’t quite place. Melancholy? Acceptance? Perhaps a little bit of both. “I just wanted to try it out.”

Silence falls over you both again and you hug yourself despite the sweltering heat of the afternoon. Shoko is right, your secret wasn’t one that was sustainable. “Do you,” your lips suddenly feel too dry and you lick your lips. “Do you want to pick her up from daycare with me today? She wants to meet you, she always has. She even asked about you this morning.”

He does. It shouldn’t surprise you that he does and it doesn’t. Still, your heart pounds when you see him show up at the daycare your daughter spends a large portion of her time at. “Hi,” you greet him nervously.

“Hey,” even though he’s grinning, his smile is a bit off kilter. A sugary pink bag hangs from one his arms. “I uh, didn’t know exactly what sort of things she like but I got her a present. You said she’s really into whale sharks, right? So I got her a plush.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him Itsuki already has five. She’d love his gift anyway. Maybe the one he got her would become her favorite.

“She might adore that more than you,” you joke but you give him a nod a beat later. “But don’t worry about what happened last time. She’ll be happy to see you in a better mood, she was worried about you when we left the park.” Maybe that was the father-daughter bond at work, or maybe it was your child’s empathetic nature.

Maybe both.

You already discussed things with him after he agreed to come meet her properly. He could get to know Itsuki, could even meet the daycare attendants. It would just be a while before you’d be able to trust him with being an emergency contact.

“Hey, Choso,” you wave at the man with pigtails. Intimidating as he looks, his daycare is surprisingly popular due to the low rates. He wanted a place where his youngest brother could grow up happily with his friends. “This,” you start before Choso can question you, gesturing to Satoru. “… This is Itsuki’s father. You’ll uh, probably see him coming around a lot more when I pick her up from now.”

There’s a lengthy pause.

“Nice to meet you,” Choso’s tone says otherwise. If it were possible, Choso’s face would be place right under the definition of judgement. He is definitely deeming Satoru a deadbeat that was finally crawling out from the woodworks.

Satoru ignores it with the air of confidence he didn’t have a few minutes ago outside, “thanks for looking after my kid while [First] was busy. I haven’t been around but I’m hoping to make up for all the lost time.”

You doubt that was meant to be a dig, you still take it as one. “Itsuki’s playing with Yuuji and the rest of their friends right now. You’ll see her at the playground,” he gestures at the infant in his hands. “I have a diaper to change.”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” you wave. “And tell Kechizu that he needs to stop cooking better than me. The other day Itsuki said she liked his lunches more than mine.” That manages to get a snicker out of the man.

“Itsuki!” You call out once you’re on the playground and you see her eyes light up with recognition and a ‘Mommy!’ Even funnier is her little excited jig before she runs over to hug you although she stops as she recognizes the man beside you.

She glances between the two of you and you smile reassuringly. “Why are you getting so shy? Don’t you remember what I promised at breakfast?”

Itsuki’s eyes widen and her jaw drops wordlessly. You suppose she might not have truly been expecting you’d make good on your promise. At least, definitely not so soon.

“Itsuki, this is Satoru, your father,” you tell her gently, smile small. “Although I suppose, you already met him yesterday. It just didn’t go at all the way it was supposed to.” But what was done was done; Itsuki deserved to know her father. You wouldn’t take away that choice because of your own fears anymore.

“Daddy?” Itsuki asks Satoru, voice just above a whisper.

Satoru nods, settling down on one knee to look her in those familiar blue eyes. “That’s right, kiddo,”

“Daddy?!” Itsuki hops in disbelief, looking between the two of you before her eyes settle on yours again. “It’s really Daddy?!” You aren’t sure if Itsuki knows whether she wants to cry or run away in disbelief that this moment is finally happening.

You knelt beside your old friend, “say hi to your father, Itsuki.”

The tears suddenly well in her eyes but despite Satoru’s panicked voice, you can tell they aren’t sad ones as Itsuki throws her arms over Satoru’s shoulders. And if your eyes are warmer than they were a few moments ago, you don’t mind it as you watch you’re daughter hug her father for the first time.

Itsuki adores Satoru, that’s what you learn in the span of a single afternoon. And yes, she does love the whale shark plush he got her more than the other five you already purchased. She cried even harder when he hugged her back, softly promising he wasn’t going anywhere. That he’d always be there and he would come see her as much as she wanted.

She adores how he took her out for ice cream before dinner and how even after dinner, he purchased even more dessert.

He was weak to her with no immunity built up over the past five years.

This was why he couldn’t say no when she pleaded he stayed over to at least watch a movie with her before bedtime. Not that you had any room to talk considering how easily you agreed.

“So she had to get Merlin’d?” Satoru asks incredulously as the credits roll across the screen.

“That is not what was supposed to happen, the beautiful girl is subjective to the one who got cursed!” You tell him, flabbergasted that that was the conclusion he came to. Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarves is far more than a comedy. It’s social commentary! “Not to mention the body positive message it sends with the fact that shoes represent societal standards of beauty along with the objectification and idolization Snow experiences while wearing them which further supported the fact that had she had gone to the F7 as herself they wouldn’t have he-”

“Nope, too late. I like my idea better,” you could strangle this man.

“You’re going to ruin Itsuki’s perception of love,” you shoot Satoru a look of amusement and annoyance. At the very least, you know he enjoyed it.

“Good, I don’t need some snot-nosed brat trying to win over my kid that’s obviously aroace,” Satoru says firmly as he picks up your very much fell-asleep-before-the-movie-ended daughter. It’s almost uncanny how natural it looks to you, like he had been around from the start. He probably should have been. You were the one who took that choice from him and made him an unintentional deadbeat.

“Satoru, she’s five and doesn’t even know what that means yet,” you say instead, Satoru oblivious to the thoughts running around your head. One day you’d tell Itsuki the truth, once she was a little older.

“What? She told me she was aroace when I asked earlier today,” Satoru tells you petulantly, moving away when you try to hold her.

“Only because you told her you’d give her ice cream if she agreed to be,” ice cream she wasn’t even supposed to eat because it would spoil her appetite for dinner in a moment you weren’t supposed to see. “It means you’ll love Daddy forever and think everyone else is gross,” Satoru happily exclaimed, holding a cup of Itsuki’s favorite salted cookie dough ice cream. The five year old happily obliged to his whims.

Maybe Satoru will be right in his hopeful predictions that romance will be the last thing on your daughter’s mind in the future thought. On the other hand, maybe he’d be dead wrong and forced to tolerate whoever she brings home in the future.

“They’re just like you, Dad, but they’re brilliant!” She’ll say, hearts in her eyes.

You almost wanted to manifest the opposite of his wishes, only to see the face Satoru would make. It is far too early to be thinking about such things however.

“I don’t want my kid to date anyone, sue me. So I’m manifesting early,” Satoru pouts as he starts takes her to her room to lay her across her bed.

“You’re so stupid,” you roll your eyes and shake your head in exasperation, but a look of fondness is apparent in your expression.

Maybe you were born to see this moment, the moment you could see that Gojou Satoru is absolutely smitten with his daughter. You can see it in how he presses a kiss to the temple of her forehead as he takes her to his room.

Itsuki was born to be loved, she makes it too easy just by being herself. Suddenly your fears from before felt unfounded. You knew underneath the rejection of Satoru in your life that he would have been there and he would have been more than happy to shoulder the burdens of parenthood even in a platonic way. You stop yourself from wondering what that path might have looked like. You made your choice and this is path you’re on now, there is no other way but forward.

“I’ll have you know,” Satoru points a finger gun at you smugly when he returns, child-free, “my kid thinks I’m the smartest man in the world. So one of you is lying and I know it’s not her.”

“Your kid is biased and spoiled from snacks and gifts,” you retort softly with a grin.

“I don’t hear the voices of the naysayers praying for my downfall, sorry,” you both release a chuckle at your exchange and a comfortable silence falls between you both. “I should probably get going I guess.”

You smile at him politely, “we should do this again sometime, I wanna see what else in our movie collection Itsuki will have you watch next.”

Satoru grins, “it better be the Digimon reboot DVD set I saw in the corner,” he pauses before asking you seriously, “our kid does like Digimon, right?”

“You’ll be happy to know that her favorites are Palmon, Kokomon and Wormmon in that order,” you tell him smugly. How could he think otherwise? Did he forget who you were? “The plushies are just in the toy chest she has at the foot of her bed.”

Your child had to be a fan of Digimon, she had no other choice.

translation:

五月 five moons (same character in Gojou as well as a radical in Satoru) ⤷ 五・いつ - five ⤷ 月・つき - moon

part 2 ->

#romance dawn ー 🌅#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x black!reader #jjk x black!reader #jujutsu kaisen x black!reader

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averagespacekid · 1 day ago

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the archivist 👁️

in the style of an anime screenshot because i say so.

SPOILERS FOR S5 OF TMA AHEAD‼️

heyo!! new hyperfixation time lesgo i’m killin it over here

i finished the magnus archives in about three weeks. it was an incredible experience lemme tell ya jonny sims and alex newall are gods among men

i love this depressed wet cat eyeball godbeing so much it hurts me. his voice has become my entire inner monologue. i think about him the instant i wake up and the second before i fall asleep.

him and his foggy soft sweater tea boyfriend restarted the fanfic addiction that i’ve been fully recovered from for two years. two years.

this is bullshit anyways have some art of him

here are some various progress shots of this guy, who took me surprisingly long to figure out how to draw.

he has no canon design, gang. none of these characters do. this scares me.

i tried to include all the scars he canonically has, but i apologize for my lack of knowing how to draw the scar from a worm fucking burrowing into your skin and i am not googling that thanks very much that’s fuckin terrifying

and here are some closeups because why not

i intend to draw his progression through the seasons at some point, but let’s just say in my head he went from a typical academic to… this thing pretty gradually

like, i headcanon him as having decently short hair at first just to be professional or whatever even though he prefers it longer, then season two hits and he just kinda forgets about it cause he’s too busy being paranoid and stalking his coworkers. he remembers again after the unknowing when he wakes up from his coma, but just kinda decides short hair is not worth the upkeep and buys a pack of hair ties that he then keeps on his person throughout the rest of the show, and ends up with something like this. maybe he has martin help him with it in various ways just to have an excuse for a domestic moment during the eyepocalypse, who knows

or maybe i just like drawing men with long hair ANYWAYS

if i were to serve a fear entity it’d probably be the eye ngl, because yknow i’m autistic and i must know everything about anything ever, or maybe the vast cause i love big empty spaces and big cities and buildings and the views from those buildings and idk if i see something big my first instinct is to pog face

the worst one for me is the corruption, 100%. i fucking HATE insects so much and its whole thing is yknow THAT and it fucking sucks i hated the noises they added when jane prentiss attacked holy hell i’m gonna stop thinking about it now

also what in the hell is the mechanisms and why do they keep showing up in fics as a band jon was in? are they real? because if i am able to hear jonny sims singing then goddamn i need that shit RIGHT NOW

n e ways that’s about it gang… see ya later 👁️

#gay horror podcast time #the magnus archives #tma #tma podcast #jonathan sims #jon sims #the archivist #art #fanart

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jounossloverr · 2 days ago

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ANALYIZING THE NEW BSD OFFICIAL ART‼️

New manga chapters spoilers & season 3 spoilers!

This official art is about season 3 but there might be small things what we find out in the manga.

About the characters

On Atsushi's and Akutagawa's side, first thing what I've noticed is Fyodor in the air and these silhouettes around the picture.

SILHOUETTES

First what I thought that these people might be the ones who have lost their lives to Fyodor when he took over them. They seem to be completely in despair. Fyodor's ability is "Crime and punishment" so their punishment for killing Fyodor was this. They seem to be hanging and suffering.

Second theory

There are ten silhouettes there. And there are 10 Agency members. What if those people are suppose to be them? We know Fyodor sees abilities as sins and wants to get rid of them. In his eyes ability users are sinners and this is their punishment for it.

FYODOR

I think Fyodor's been in the upper part of official arts now more. Probably because he's an important character now who rules the arc. He watches his enemies and their moves from afar.

FUKUZAWA

We see Fukuzawa sitting on a big chair. That can imply that he's an important character in this arc, because he is the one with his ability who keeps his subordinates ability in control, like Atsushi's.

ATSUSHI & AKUTAGAWA

Atsushi is the main character so he sits in the middle of the art. Akutagawa besides him, they were a team in season 3, fighting together. There's a door showing the Port Mafia building, Akutagawa's on this side and Atsushi is on the side where Fukuzawa is, the Detective Agency.

Chairs on eachother

If chairs are everywhere on top of eachother, it symbolizes chaos and instability. It fits to season 3 and what's happening in the manga right now. Fukuzawa, Atsushi and Akutagawa are between the chairs, what shows that they are the ones trying to bring back stability. Fyodor is in the air creating instability.

Chair by the Port Mafia door

I think that's suppose to be Mori's chair, but he is missing. I don't know why though. Mori was poisoned, but so was Fukuzawa and he's there. They both also fighted eachother. Maybe he's missing because in the Port Mafia, there was a major chaos and he is working behind the scenes, not showing himself.

CHUUYA & DAZAI

In the Port Mafia both of them were the strong duo, Double Black. Chuuya sitting on the chair, because he is seen as the old Sheep leader, who was forced to work for the Port Mafia, and has the strongest ability in the whole Mafia. Dazai besides him, the Demon Prodigy, accompanying him.

MORI / BLACK, RED HOLES

He is seen in the back looking at the Slums buildings reaching his hand out, probably to these holes. The holes are from Arahabaki, the one who is merged with Chuuya, showing the powers of it.

RIMBAUD

He's also in the back. He played a role in season 3 as the spy in the Port Mafia, to retrieve Arahabaki. We see him looking up, probably looking at the black and red holes what are from Arahabaki.

CEILING

I saw that there are two openings on the ceiling. This can be symbolized as limited freedom from the trapped room, but still hope to escape from there.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd manga #bsd theories #bungou stray dogs theory #atsushi nakajima #dazai osamu #fyodor dostoevsky #akutagawa ryuunosuke #fukuzawa yukichi #chuuya nakahara #mori ougai #bsd rimbaud

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bonniepop · 2 days ago

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title: of rumors & wrong assumptions parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 (apparently) character: iwaizumi hajime warnings: i leave oikawa alone in this one. for the most part.

you manage to avoid drama for a good few weeks.

a welcome relief, seeing as you and oikawa were the center of attention for a more-than-uncomfortable amount of time. but as high school was wont to do, you became old news quick, with some other couple receiving the brunt of the gossip.

you did, however, have a sneaking suspicion that iwaizumi was behind the damage control. and while you three, along with oikawa, got along more and grew closer, you never really got a chance to ask.

the general student body was more or less updated with the fact that you weren't together, but murmurings of, but they looked so cute! (gross) or they sure act like a couple (worse) floated around your classmates before ultimately being silenced.

thank god, you think, because if you'd been caught watching volleyball practice from the mezzanine balcony of the gym at the same time those rumors went around, you'd be well and fully screwed.

now, though, you were afforded peace. oikawa and iwaizumi invited you to watch practice once and it became a sort of routine, joining them in the gym and going to your corner on the balcony, unpacking your things to finish your schoolwork. there were some noisy oikawa fans, but they never really stayed for long, and often left after one or two games.

some volleyballs ended up in your vicinity, though, which was technically unavoidable, but you would always hear iwaizumi's sorry! and throw the ball back.

the routine was nice. after practice, oikawa or iwaizumi would call you down and you'd stay a good few feet away (boy sweat) as you leave the school premises. turns out, you and iwaizumi head home in the same direction, so each time oikawa separates from your little trio, he leaves with a wink and waggle of his fingers.

this time, though, he throws in a, "you know what to do, iwa-chan!", which you can only assume is about homework, so you roll your eyes and wave goodbye.

your routine silence with iwaizumi settles between you as you walk home. you feel that iwaizumi wants to say something, but maybe you're imagining it.

when your turn comes, you turn to look up at him and smile. "i'll see you tomorrow."

you nearly jump back at the very severe glare he's sending in your direction.

"yeah," he grunts, his jaw flexing. "see you tomorrow."

you squeak out a, "take care," and scurry away in fear.

since you and oikawa were friends now (small barf), you ask for his advice in chem lecture. thankfully, it was audiovisual day, so you were seated at the back of the dark room while a movie played on the screen.

he listens intently as you recount the series of events to him, and he groans. "he really needs to do something about that face of his," he sighs. "he's not mad. i told you, that's just his face. he just has the guy equivalent of resting bitch face."

"he looked like he wanted to spike a volleyball to my head."

"that's how he looks at me," oikawa deadpans.

you sniff. "anyway."

oikawa purses his lips a but. "if it bothers you so much, do you want me to talk to him about it?"

"will it make a difference?"

"honestly?" he says, thinking a little. "maybe not."

"i suggest you both pay attention before i do a pop quiz for this," your teacher says from behind you, scaring you into sitting up straight.

"sorry, sir," you and oikawa say in unison, and the teacher passes between your seats.

oikawa looks at you. later, he mouths, and you nod.

later turns out to be at lunch with iwaizumi.

"iwa-chan!" oikawa whines. "you really need to work on your expressions."

iwaizumi looks absolutely livid. "what are you talking about?"

oikawa gestures to his friend's face. "that! i keep telling you this. you look so... unfriendly!"

iwaizumi looks like he's ready to start a fight. but then he and relaxes his brow. "how about now?"

"loosen up on the chin."

iwaizumi follows suit. "now?"

you watch the exchange between the two of them as you eat your lunch, oikawa making the effort to rid iwaizumi of his resting bitch face. you had to agree with oikawa on this one—when iwaizumi sat down for lunch and looked like he wanted to murder his bento.

"better!" oikawa says cheerfully. he takes iwaizumi's chin and turns his face in your direction. "doesn't that look better, _____-chan?"

the relaxed look morphed into a murderous one. "if you want to keep that hand, i suggest you stop touching me."

oikawa simply laughs and pats iwaizumi's cheek. "you're funny, iwa-chan—OW! that hurt!"

lunch was now a (well, mostly) peaceful affair. the first time you three had lunch together—or when oikawa both dragged you kicking and (very quietly) screaming to his and iwaizumi's class room to have lunch with them—there was chatter, but now that it's been going on for a few weeks, people stopped caring.

iwaizumi uncovers his lunch. "i heard something funny the other day."

you pluck a grape from your lunch bag. "hmm?"

"apparently some people thought i was gay."

he says it as soon as you pop the grape in your mouth, and you nearly choke to death. oikawa rushes next to you to whack you in the back, after some desperate coughs, the grape dislodges. you chew and swallow quickly to avoid another mishap.

you take some breaths before turning to oikawa and smacking him in the arm. hard.

"that's my back, you idiot! you don't hit me like you're serving a volleyball!"

he looks offended beyond belief. "you ungrateful little—i just saved your life!"

"you nearly gave me a spinal fracture!"

iwaizumi fixes his glare on oikawa. "you're trying to stop her from choking, not dislocate her vertebrae."

oikawa sits back down and pouts. "you two are so unappreciative of me! you deserve each other." he dramatically stands up and, taking his lunch, marches out of the classroom.

iwaizumi scoffs in oikawa's direction. "drama queen." he looks back at you. "you okay?"

you stretch your back on your seat. "yeah, i think. he hit me pretty hard."

"you want a painkiller or something? i think i have some—"

"oh, no—i'm okay, really."

iwaizumi shrugs. "if you're sure."

awkward silence settles between you two as iwaizumi eats his food and you fidget. "so, um," you clear your throat. "you were saying? sorry. i interrupted you."

"oh, yeah, some—"

you nearly jump back when oikawa shows up suddenly. "i forgot my milk," he mumbles, sitting back down with his lunch.

iwaizumi rolls his eyes. "embarrassing for you."

"shut up," the volleyball captain says, grabbing his carton and taking a huge sip from the straw.

"anyway," iwaizumi goes on. "some people thought i was gay."

oikawa, who clearly has no regard for your personal wellbeing, perks up. he looks absolutely delighted. "you don't say?"

"shut up or i'll punch you again."

oikawa's mouth clamps shut, but he still can't help his smile.

iwaizumi shakes his head. "and what if i was?"

your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. is he serious? "are you?"

he rolls his eyes. "no. but if i was, i would not be with oikawa. gross."

the joy in oikawa's face was quickly replaced by offense. "hey! i'd be a good boyfriend!"

"your last girlfriend dumped you." iwaizumi picks up some of his lunch.

"wh—stop bringing that up!"

"so... you're not?" you ask tentatively.

iwaizumi is surprisingly calm about this. "no. or, well, i don't think i am." he thoughtfully chews his food. "i know someone who's like... what's the one that likes both? my cousin is that."

"bisexual?" oikawa supplies, apparently not too hurt from iwaizumi's last quip to listen to the story.

"yeah, that. he was bisexual, but when he moved to... i think australia? he found out he was gay. so, i don't know. maybe i'm not gay now, but who knows?"

"you're surprisingly relaxed about this." oikawa leans back, a little apprehensive. "i thought you'd be mad."

iwaizumi rolls his eyes. "being called gay is not an insult."

"that's very mature of you," you tell him, and he looks down at his food. it strikes you that he may be shy about that.

you and oikawa share a look as the bell rings. you start packing up your lunch. "i'll see you guys later?"

"oh," oikawa starts, "we don't have practice later. coach has a thing with his kid, so we have a free afternoon."

"oh, okay."

"i can pass by your room after school," iwaizumi offers.

you look at him. "um... why?"

he cocks his head, confused. "so we can walk home together."

there's a beat before oikawa goes, "since you walk in the same direction, might as well go together! good thinking, iwa-chan!"

something occurs to iwaizumi before he glares at oikawa. he looks a little red in the face, so you don't know if it's from rage or embarrassment. probably rage.

you finish packing up your lunch amongst a mild scuffle between the two and you stand. when you look up from your bento, you find one of iwaizumi's fists curled around the lapel of oikawa's jacket and the other fist in the air, ready to land a punch.

they freeze and look at you.

"sure," you say.

iwaizumi's hold slackens. "huh?"

"sure, we can walk home together after class," you clarify.

oikawa's jaw slackens and iwaizumi lets go of his friend.

"see you," you say, before waving and leaving.

behind you, you can hear oikawa cry, "OW! what was that for?!"

iwaizumi snaps, "for being annoying. now go back to your seat before i punch you again."

you bite back a laugh and walk out of the room.

#iwaizumi fluff #hq #haikyuu x reader #x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #📝 — my writing #haikyuu fic

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yoongsriverandme · 2 days ago

Text

𓈒 ꪆৎ prom song (gone wrong)

❝ At the gate, stop and say, "be my valentine"… ❞

⤑ pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader

⤑ genre: fluff, mutual pining, idiots-to-lovers, strangers(?)-to friends-to lovers, "unrequited" love, secret admirer!au, college!au.

⤑ wc: 3.8k

⤑ summary: with valentine's day right around the corner, you somehow have to muster up the courage to confess to taehyung - but oh yeah, two things: 1. he doesn't know you exist, and 2. you're his secret admirer.

⤑ rating: g/teen & up audiences

⤑ warnings: none besides a literal sprinkle of light light angst, and a little cursing! everyone gets a cameo

⤑ date posted: feburary 14, 2025

⤑ authors note: AHHH HI!!! i'm so excited to be here! this is my first ever post on this account, and i'm so happy it's on valentine's day! i cooked up this sickeningly fluffy fic for my four followers, so enjoy!

𓈒 ꪆৎ masterlist

⁘ preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

Valentine’s day.

A time where couples all over the world celebrate their love with treats, and dates, and cute little notes riddled with the cheesiest, loveliest words.

What a fucking chore.

Your school was cascaded with an ocean of pink and red, the halls drowned in hearts and sweet aspirations to encourage the young lovers that housed their classrooms, and the yearners that were thinking maybe, just maybe, today might be the day.

You smack a low hanging decoration out of your way as you walk, the small scowl that was forming on your face deeping because of the irritating spangle.

You didn’t hate love. That’s just stupid.

Normally the amorous energy didn’t get on your nerves.

How could they? With all of your friends gushing about the holiday, it’d be fruitless to be miffed over something as trivial as that, and it wasn’t like you didn’t want your friends to be happy.

You just had a bad morning.

‘Bad morning’ means seeing the guy you’re… mildly interested in, talking to another girl.

Feelings of jealousy felt like such a frivolous matter, because what’s the point in being mad at something or someone that wasn’t yours in the first place?

You hate the way your brain has labeled Kim Taehyung as yours in the first place.

He was well known around school, a fine arts major with a minor in photography, and quite popular on the internet.

He had a big Instagram account where he’d post personal pictures of things that were monotonous to any other person: a half empty cup of coffee, a sleeping cat on the street, a wildflower that seemed to have held some sort of beauty to the eye of its beholder.

Not that you were stalking him of course, it was just an admirable feat.

It was clear he was going to go far after graduation, and that in of itself was the most attractive part about him; not to mention his unwavering kindness or his off-kilter smile that appeared more like a box than anything.

Taehyung was also unshakably loyal. You’ve seen his anger directed at those who’d hurt his loved ones before, and it was terrifying.

So, it wasn’t strange that he’d be talking to someone that he knows. That’s just the way that life works. People talk to other people, plain and simple.

Just not you, it seems.

It’s not like you run in the same social circle, and you’ve never really made yourself available to him. It was your own fault.

It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to him, you were just… shy.

He’s the embodiment of sun, joy wrapped up into a small gift of a human being; and while yes, he does pick up where you lack, it seems to be too big of a gap to bridge. So, you’ll stick to admiring him for now.

“There’s another one, hyung!” Taehyung calls out in happiness as you round the corner to the hallway that houses the lockers.

Oh, and that too.

The love letters.

It was a lapse of judgement in your opinion.

You were vulnerable, and one of your closest friends had managed to weasel their way into your brain and placed false hope that sharing your writing would somehow win him over.

It seems to be half true, for what it’s worth.

You were prepared for the sheer amount of warmth to spread through your chest after watching Taehyung react to your love letters the first time.

It was very simple: “your art is beautiful.”

You had haphazardly shoved it through the slits in the metal locker before hauling ass to your next class. The only reason why you were able to see his reaction is because yours was only four lockers down.

It was hard to act inconspicuous when your hands were damp with sweat, every negative thought flowing through your mind at the same time:

‘He thinks it’s stupid’

‘He’ll throw it away’

‘“Your art is beautiful”? Yeah, not like he’s never heard that one before’

But the funny part about life is that sometimes, it goes the way you want it to.

“Wah! Taehyungie, is that a love note?” His close friend Hoseok, had sounded from behind him.

It had only taken Taehyung a handful of seconds to open his locker, watch the note flutter out, bend over, pick it up, and read it.

Your body went rigid, and the grating silence that fell the nearly empty hallway was deafening.

Then, “I don’t know.”

Hoseok looked over his shoulder, and his eyebrows drew together. “It’s not very long.” He speaks unsurely.

“I know,” Taehyung’s words were then followed by a wide smile. “It’s perfect.”

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

He had called the notes perfect.

From then on, you hadn’t really written a lot, because there was so much that you had to say that you couldn’t really say anything at all.

You wanted to write more, you wanted to give him more. There were so many times that you would go to write him a note with more than a sentence or two, but you’d end up sitting there and just staring at the slip of paper.

Your compliments never seemed to bother him, because every time you’d seen him go to grab his books, he’d give a quick, ecstatic glance over its internal contents, searching for your note.

It was flattering.

So, you kept writing, and he kept reading.

But now that Valentine’s day was around the corner, you couldn’t help but feel like you should have been doing more.

More of what? More words? Gifts? Actions? Confessions?

It leaves you in a conundrum, because while yes, you did want to confess to him, you had no fucking idea how, and secondly, to address the elephant in the room, he had no fucking idea who you were.

Okay, yeah, your lockers are only a foot or two apart, and yes, you do share a class with him, but you’ve never talked to him before. You’re lucky he would even remember your name because of attendance purposes.

You're snapped back into reality by a force slamming into you from behind, sending you stumbling forward and out from behind the corner you had been standing behind.

You let out an unattractive yelp, and your headphones had been ripped out of your ears and tumbled to the floor along with your phone.

You don’t even have time to blink before one Jeon Jungkook is in your field of vision, apologizing profusely and stumbling over himself to pick your things up.

“Oh, God – I’m so sorry! I – I didn’t see you, and I just wanted to –”

You swallowed harshly, keeping your eyes downcasted as embarrassment seeped into every crevice of your body.

So much for good introductions.

You know he was looking at you, and you knew that the ‘hyung’ he had been talking to was dance major Park Jimin.

Kill me. Kill me. Kill me –

“It’s fine.” You spoke blankly, almost as if you were bored. Almost as if you weren’t about to spontaneously combust where you stood.

You pushed out a hand, gesturing to him to place your lost objects in them; and he did, albeit hesitantly.

“Again, I’m –”

“Sorry. Yeah, I heard you the first time, and I said it’s fine.”

You finally look up, and you try to not cringe at the overwhelming amount of worry that’s etched into Taehyung’s face.

Worry for who? You didn’t know, but you can’t help but risk a glance his way and his large brown eyes pour into your soul.

Dangerous.

This is exactly why you weren’t going to say anything.

“I’ve got to go to class. Just be careful next time.”

You rip your eyes away and turn around, abandoning your textbook and journal in exchange for safety.

Safe from what?

The hardest part about sharing a class with Kim Taehyung was actually having to see him.

What makes it even harder is that he has been non-stop looking at you the entire period, and you can’t help but be a little self-conscious.

You shift in your seat, straightening your shirt, and nonchalantly wiping around your mouth just in case you might have saved anything from breakfast on your face.

It was like heaven had opened up when the bell rang, and you were the first one to shoot up, shoving your backup materials into your bag. You could’ve gone faster.

Just when you thought you were free, two sneaker covered feet encroached your vision.

“Hey.”

The deep timber of his voice shook you to your very core, and you paused briefly, glancing up at him even though it felt like cinder blocks were tied to the back of your eyes.

“Hi.” You breathed.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook.”

“I already said it was fine.” You sighed, putting away the last of your things and hauling the strap of your tote bag over your shoulder.

“It’s not, though. He shouldn’t have been running in a busy hallway like that. He could’ve gotten him or someone else hurt.”

Your nerves practically hummed at his fussing, but you forced it down.

“I appreciate your concern, and I don’t blame him for running into me. A lot of my friends are like him too. Excitable, quick to injure. Like a puppy.”

At your dry-witted joke, Taehyung cracked a grin. “(y/n), right?”

Even though he was clearly in front of you, hearing him say your name nearly startled you half to death. It sounded good coming out of his mouth. Too good.

“Yeah, and I know you’re Taehyung.”

“I’m sorry we’ve never talked to each other before, I’ve just been busy with, you know…”

“Your art and stuff, yeah. I know.” He seems caught off guard by the show of information, and you think that now would be an excellent time to chuck yourself out the nearest window.

“You know about my art?”

“And your photography.”

Wow, very inconspicuous.

“Oh?”

“I… think your work is excellent. You find beauty in the small things. It’s admirable.”

For a moment he just stares at you, and you stare back. For the first time since coming in contact with him today, you didn’t have the overwhelming feeling to run.

Maybe you can give him a bit more.

“What are you doing today?” Your breath catches in your throat at his question; had it been this easy all along? “Why?”

For the first time today, you make him work for an answer from you, and you can see his grin melt into a small smirk. A sign that he appreciates the challenge.

“I was going to invite you to go out to lunch with me and my friends as an apology. Jungkook still feels terrible for almost tackling you.”

You wave off his statement. “As much as I’d love to, I’ve got a few things I’ve got to do today, but let Jungkook know that I’ll be around soon enough, so he can give me reparations then.”

Taehyung lets out a booming laugh.

“Alright, I’ll let him know.”

When you go back to your dorm that night, your hands practically shake with the adrenaline that your interactions with him gave you today.

You fumble to get out a pen, and instead of going for the half sheets of paper you had meticulously cut in half, you opt for a full piece.

You write what you’ve been feeling for these last few months; weeks upon weeks of yearning spill through your fingertips as you express your love for his laugh, how deeply enchanting his eyes are, how inspirational he is.

You write and write and write until your fingers cramp and you near the lower half of the page.

This. This was what you have been meaning to give him all this time.

This was the part of yourself that you were so desperate to show him. What you wanted him to acknowledge about himself.

In a corny show of vulnerability, you steal a heart sticker from your roommate and slip the letter – an actual letter! – into an envelope, sealing it shut with the glittering craft.

There’s rustling coming from outside, which means said roommate is home, and you quickly shove it into a random drawer in your desk for another day.

For the day.

You don’t expect Taehyung to talk to you the next day, or for the day after that.

He waves at you in the hallway when he sees you, comes to talk to you after class is over, and even gestures you over to sit next to him when he sees you sitting at lunch by yourself.

Normally you would take lunch as the time to catch up on a few things, the music blaring through your ears drowning out the restlessness of the campus goers around you.

You all but waddle over there, plopping down next to him a respectable distance away and fiddling with your jacket sleeve when your presence draws the attention of two of your seniors.

You bow at the waist in greeting of Yoongi and Namjoon, and they bow back, but you’re hit lightly with the back of Taehyung’s hand to your arm.

“Don’t bow to them, they don’t deserve it.”

Instantly, Yoongi’s sleepy demeanour slips and he hisses, swatting over at his dongsaeng half-heartedly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Respect your elders.”

You grin a bit, raising a brow Tae’s way as he cackles and leans back to avoid being hit.

“I didn’t know my friend was so disrespectful.” You find it in yourself to tease. It’s like a flip is switched in Taehyung, and he shoots you the most breath stealing pout you’ve only ever seen him give to the men in front of you.

Your grin slips and your eyes fall to his lips, watching them closely as he speaks. “Don’t be so mean to me, (y/n).”

Your mouth flounders like an idiot, your gaze zeroing in on the beauty marks and imperfections that riddle his face. God, he was so beautiful.

Someone clears their throat, and he pulls away from you, and you spin to face forward.

You catch Namjoon’s knowing look and act like you didn’t see it.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just butt-hurt that his secret admirer hasn’t left anything in his locker for the past few days.” Yoongi mumbles.

You force yourself not to cringe, but you can’t help but ask, “What secret admirer?”

“Someone’s been leaving Tae little compliments in his locker. It’s one of the things he’s been looking forward to, but the person hasn’t been by in a while.” Namjoon finishes for him.

“Hyung.” Taehyung whines, but it’s clear he’s been affected by the absence of your notes.

You had been so worried about the big bang that was ‘the letter’ – as your best friend had coined it – that you had forgotten about the compliments you were supposed to be writing to him.

But why would you write him compliments when you had the real deal right in front of you?

It didn’t seem to matter, though, because you can see the sad pull of his smile, how it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

You can’t take it.

“What if the person was planning something for valentine’s day?”

Three pairs of eyes land on you – suspicion, hope, and intrigue.

“Really?” Taehyung asks, but before he can answer, Yoongi goes, “How do you know?”

You flounder once again.

“I… I’m just making a logical guess.”

“Wah! So smart, (y/n).” The box-smiled man says in wonderment. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’ve been too in your head about some compliments. Idiot.” The last word is followed by a snapped flick to Tae’s forehead from Yoongi.

“Ow, hyung!”

You know Namjoon is staring at you. No – not staring at you – analyzing you.

You know the older man had always been too smart for his own good, so you’re not surprised that he might’ve caught on this quickly.

You refuse to look at him, because as they say, “eyes are the window to the soul,” And you aren’t interested in letting the dragon-eyed man in front of you into it any time soon.

“Well good thing tomorrow is valentine’s day, right?” You don’t realize Taehyung’s talking to you until he nudges you with his shoulder.

“(y/n)?”

“Huh?” You ask intelligently, lifting your gaze from a spot on your table to look at him. “Right… right.” You agree with a nervous smile.

If Taehyung notices your anxiety, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re all the more grateful for it, though it feels like you're not alone with your thoughts.

That night, you prop the letter up on a stack of books and just stare at it.

You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms and staring it down as though it had personally offended you.

You can do this. It was easy.

Right?

You’re sick the entire morning, stomach swimming with something nasty as you tuck the offending piece of paper into your bag.

You’re just going to slip it into his locker, the same as you have every other time. The only difference is that your name is on it, and it’s up to him on whether or not he’ll decide to ever speak to you again.

It’s not the most foolproof plan you’ve ever had, but hey, a plan is a plan.

You tremble the whole walk to school, and it isn’t until you’re face-to-face with said locker that you finally feel bile start to burn at the back of your throat.

Oh God, were you really about to do this?

You force yourself to just bite the bullet and shove it in, but you’re stopped midway by a voice from behind you.

“(y/n)?”

Your arms that were raised to push the paper through the slots freeze midair, the only thing piercing the silence is the sound of the hefty envelope sliding in and landing somewhere inside the metal container.

Taehyung is behind you.

Taehyung is behind you and he just watched you stand here and slip a note into his locker confessing your love to him.

Yeah, this plan was sure as shit not fucking foolproof.

“It was you?”

There’s something in his voice you can’t detect, and it’s taking you everything in your power to not haul ass.

“I…” You don’t know what to say as you turn around and are confronted by a slack jawed, wide eyed Taehyung.

You swallow the sand that’s in your mouth. Tears burn at the back of your eyelids at the thought of his rejection. Your heart already aches.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry… for leaving all those notes in your locker and for getting your hopes up… I –”

“Stop.”

“What?” Air rushes out of your lungs like someone sat on your chest.

“Don’t say sorry for doing something that made me happy.”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.

When he looks up at you, you can finally see the red hue that paints his caramel cheeks; he shares a nervous smile with you as he steps forward carefully, as though he’s afraid you’d disappear.

“I have a few secrets of my own that I think I should share with you.”

He reaches forward and encompasses your hand in his, and they are as big and warm as you had imagined they would be. They’re a bit calloused, but you figure that comes from holding a paintbrush for hours at a time.

“I… I’m really happy that it’s you.” He swallows and chuckles wetly. “I like you, (y/n). If you haven’t noticed.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“Don’t think you’ve been the only one watching someone around here.” He’s smiling brightly and his teeth are so white they nearly blind you.

“I confess that, I’ve known you for longer than when we first met.”

“What?” You ask again, but now you’re smiling just a bit. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he speaks. They’re fluttering so fast you feel nauseous.

“I’ve liked you since the beginning of the year.” He’s staring at you dead on. “I… I remember seeing you and thinking you were so cool.” Taehyung laughs at himself. “And not just cool, but I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I would look for you in the hallways, I’d watch you sitting alone at lunch, and I’d watch you watch your friends. I thought it was always a bit strange how you never wanted to talk, because I know you have so many brilliant thoughts in your head.”

Your cheeks flush with an unbearable heat, and you express your shyness by squeezing his hand, and he gives you an answering squeeze back.

“I remember when you presented your project and being so enamoured the entire time. I couldn’t help but think about what else you had in that brain of yours. And then I remember thinking after that, that I would read or listen to whatever you came up with.”

“Then the notes started.”

Your breath catches.

“Then I got confused. Because here this person is, telling me how beautiful they think my work is, when I already have the most beautiful thing right in front of me.”

Beautiful. You.

“Hoseok-hyung grilled me so hard after the first time you had ever given me a note.” He chuckles once more. “He had asked me, ‘what are you going to do?’ and I remember saying, ‘I don’t know.’”

He licks his dry lips. “But I knew that I hoped it was you. That you were the one that came up with those sweet words.”

“I was content with watching you, and the flattery of the notes. But then Jungkook ran into you, and I knew my time of spectating was over, because I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to ruin any potential chance I may have had because my best friend was a bit of an idiot.”

You laugh at his words, and you hadn’t noticed you were crying until his free hand had come up and swiped at a stray tear rolling down your hot cheek.

“You were a bit scary to approach I admit, because if you had treated me the way you did Kook, I think I might have cried.” You cackle a bit.

“But you didn’t and then now here we are, on valentine’s day –”

“Confessing to each other in the hallway.” Your own words made yourself cringe, but you can’t stop the cheek splitting smile that forces its way onto your face.

“Is that what we're doing?” He asks cheekily. “Is that what you want to do?” You bite back playfully.

“It depends on what that note says.”

Oh no.

“Ugh,” You groan, and allow your head to fall forward and land on a surprisingly lean shoulder. “Don’t read it around me please.”

“So that means it’s good.”

“Taehyung!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A hand comes up to rub at your back comfortingly.

“But not really.”

You take the skin on his side and twist.

“Ow, ow!”

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seasprincess · 1 hour ago

Text

Spencer Reid x reader. !fluff

Synopsis: a certain agent has picked up on a little chemistry between you and genius

warnings: none

Spencer Reid is a genius. Everyone knows it. With his 187 IQ, ability to read 20,000 words per minute and knowledge on so many subjects.

But they all mean nothing when you’re involved.

He shouldn’t get like this around you. Get all flustered and shy. Tripping over words when his eyes lock with yours. Watching as you bat your eyelashes at him when he goes on one of his rambles. Everyone else wants him to be quiet, but you? You look and listen to him like he's a prophet and you're his die hard follower.

But as Spencer lacks in the relationship department it means he doesn't catch onto the way you flirt with him. The way you smile and laugh a bit too hard at his jokes the rest of the team didn’t even crack a smile for. He’s blind when it comes to all the signs that you like him back.

But the rest of the team isn’t blind to those eyes you give him. For them it’s like watching a cartoon character’s eyes turn into hearts everytime you look at the genius.

But there’s one person on the team who notices these little glances between you too. Notices the way Spencer stares at you. And he’s decided to play cupid.

Ladies man Derek Morgan is sat across from you on the jet. Smirking as he gestures for you to take off the headphones that were blasting some new pop song.

“Yeah?” You say as you look at him, slightly on edge because of the muscular man's smirk. His eyes show that this conversation is going to make you uncomfortable. Thank god the rest of the team are either asleep or distracted doing something else.

“So you and Reid. What's going on?” The agent says as he tilts his head slightly. Of course he’s going to use his detective skills to use and analyse you.

With his words your cheeks heat up like the plane had suddenly just got really warm. You feel warm. A blush spread across your cheeks too. Usually you'd try to play off these reactions. And you're gonna do just that now.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try to stay calm, try to not show that his words are affecting you. Why is he asking anyway? Has Reid asked about you? Oh god what if he thinks you're weird? What if Morgan tells him?

“You very much do know what I’m talking about.”

You sigh and put your hands over your face, trying to block out the smirking man that’s asking you the question that makes you want to run home and hide your face in a pillow.

“Is it that obvious?” You say as you look over at Spencer who is fast asleep. He's in the fetal position on the sofa. His arm propped under his head as a makeshift pillow. Completely knocked out from the latest case. He looks so calm which is not a usual look. He’s usually moving about or his mind is running at a million miles per hour. Seeing him like this makes your heart clench, he looks so cute and sweet and-oh my god. You've got it bad.

“It’s obvious to everyone but pretty boy.” Derek’s eyes glance to sleeping Spencer. Not looking at him with the same admiration as you.

You groan again as your forehead is placed on the table in front of you. Work strictly bans relationships between two members but there was no way in denying nor moving past the little situationship between you and the smart guy of the team. You could try to hide it but you'd never be able to get over it. Neither would he. You’re both whipped for each other in whatever geeky way that you both can be.

Spencer and you both being geeky when it comes to your interests meant you both like the same things and that you understand some of his references. Heavy on the some, cause sometimes you have no idea what he’s talking about. His references are just a bit too niche for you to grasp.

“Talk to him.” Derek says casually. Like he hasn't asked you to do one of the most stressful things you can think of involving your personal life.

“Absolutely not.” You reply as you say as you sit up straight in the seat. The jet finally coming in to land after what feels like a

“You gotta do it or you’ll regret it.” He doesn’t give you time to fire back before he leaves your gossip spot, presumably heading for the exit. Which is where he’s going. Not before he hits the sleeping boy's knee to wake him up, making your plan of sneaking past him nearly impossible. Derek just flashes you a smirk before exiting.

Sencer rubs his eyes as he slowly sits up, not wanting to move too quickly to avoid feeling dizzy. He glances down at his watch to only realise he had slept practically the whole journey. People walk past him, saying their goodbyes as he says bye too. Not coherent as he's still sleepy. He looks around the jet before his eyes land on you. You were packing up your things, getting ready to go back to your apartment and probably just crash. The case was really hard on all of you. But Spencer knows you struggle to sleep on planes otherwise he knows you would be fast asleep.

“Good nap?” You say with that sweet smile of yours that makes Spencer’s heart just melt. He has completely and utterly fallen for you. He looks at you softly. His brown eyes look at you softly. From your point of view it’s like looking into a deer's eyes. The big brown orbs looking at you with the sweetest look you've ever seen. But of course you’ll brush it off with the fact it’s because he’s just woken up and not because he could possibly like you.

“Oh um, can’t complain. Other than the fact I have more of my book to read now before I can sleep. Again.” Spencer likes to read a certain amount each night. Not that it takes him any significant amount of words per minute. He could do it in about three minutes.

Spencer reaches down to grab his book that had fallen to the ground due to his snooze.

“Hey so, um, I was wondering.” You say quickly before you can take it back and stop yourself. You know you need to get it out before you change your mind.

“Go for it.” He says with a smile. Standing up and looking into your eyes.

And your brain just melts, you can’t help it. You freeze on the spot and suddenly this seems like a really bad idea. It would be too awkward if he rejected you. What if he thought you were weird? Oh god. This is not a good idea.

“It can wait till tomorrow.” You say, covering up the emotions behind the words you wish you could say. “I’ll see you then. Good night.”

Spencer doesn’t get a chance to react before you've left.

And all he can do is wonder what the hell you were gonna say.

And what he wishes he could’ve said to you.

Part 2 soon…

a/n: not proof read😛

@littlelamy

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theherothesavior · 21 hours ago

Text

Joel Miller x AFAB reader

Warnings: alcohol, slapping (not from Joel), light angst, my shitty writing, not proofread.

Author’s Note: This is the first thing I’ve ever really posted in here for a character so please be kind. Feedback is always appreciated.

Word Count: ~3k

………………….…………………………………………………………

Three months in Jackson means nothing when your brain is still out there. Out where the ghosts of the past linger as pale memories of a life you never even got the chance to live. No graduating high school, no getting to enjoy college, hell, not even a normal relationship with someone where the worst thing that could happen would most likely have been a shitty break-up and not watching them get eaten by a faceless fungus monster. Every day in Jackson is a reminder of what you’ve lost, or rather, what was taken from you. This illusion of a normal community makes you sick as you walk down to the bar, the only real thing in this fake town that is worth being here.

Passing through the Tipsy Bison to one of the stools against the bar is the highlight of each night at this point. Jack, the surly bartender who’s a spitting image of Willie Nelson, pours you your regular and you thank him, tipping your head back to down it before nodding for another. Around the fourth drink, the familiar smell of campfire and saddle leather settles next to you.

“Rough day?” He grumbles softly, Jack giving him his usual drink as well.

“Not in the mood, Joel.” You huff back, completely uninterested in speaking with your housemate at this moment. He scoffs next to you and your jaw clenches in aggravation. “What?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“Nothin’... just wonderin’ what’s up your ass lately.” He whispers, head turning to face you. “You’ve been like this since we got back here and decided to stay.” You avoid looking at him, continuing to sip your drink, making him sigh and move forward. “Listen, darlin’... I don’t really care if you talk to me or not, but you’re upsetting Ellie. She thinks you’re pissed at her.”

“I’m not,” You answer simply.

“Yeah, I know that but she doesn’t… she even said you came home drunk the other night and said some stuff about wanting to go back out there.” His voice is eerily soft, making you finally look at him. Remorse bubbles up your throat, wishing you could take those words back from her. You swallow it down.

“It’s not because of her. She shouldn’t worry about it.” You finish your drink, a little tipsy at this point, but wave to Jack for another. The next one comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and the next…and the one after that. When you call for your eighth drink, thoroughly drunk at this point, Joel stops you from downing it.

“You’re done, darlin’. Let’s go home.” His tone, still as soft as earlier and it makes my chest ache, the usual rough timber of his voice, lowering to a volume only you can hear. You push the warm feeling of him away, wanting to drown it in the warmth of liquor instead.

“No. Leave me alone.” You say, reaching for the drink. He quickly downs it, keeping one arm on your waist as you lean too far off the stool, practically falling in his lap. “Asshole.” Your voice raises and he immediately rises, towering over you.

“Enough.” His voice, dangerously low as he glares down at you.

“I’m not a child, Joel.” You bite back, but the words slur from your tongue, falling between you two like fluff. “Then stop actin’ like one.” He says sternly, the commanding look on his face shooting straight down your body. Your knees grow weak and you can’t tell if it’s from him or the copious amount of alcohol from this evening.

“Don’t talk to me like that…” your voice barely above a whisper, no real power behind it. You push his hands off your hips and stumble out of the building, boots crunching as they meet the snow. The cold air whips across your cheek as you tilt your head back to face the sky, eyes closed, letting the snowflakes land in your lashes. For a moment, everything’s normal. The world didn’t end. You’re just standing drunk in the snow, enjoying the beauty of life, feeling as weightless and soft as the snow melting against your cheeks.

That doesn’t last long.

“Awe… are you drunk again?” A grating voice pulls you from your thoughts, from your moment of peace. You turn carefully and open your hazy eyes to see Mallory. The terrible woman who lives next door to you, Ellie, and Joel. The same irritating woman who is constantly trying to live in Joel’s pants. Her condescending smirk lingers on her face as you manage to answer, obviously drunk.

“Maybe. But at least I don’t look like you.” It makes no sense, but you’re too gone to care. She scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, too bad for you, sweetie, ‘cause Joel seems to actually notice me.” You can’t help the giggle that crosses your lips before immediately answering, “Joel thinks you look like a 40-year-old busted Barbie doll.” Your voice, slurred, but the insult doesn’t go unheard by Mallory. “Said…. He said… he thinks all the plastic in your body is what keeps anything from biting you. S’how you survived this long.” You giggle more to yourself but Mallory moves quickly, way too fast for your drunken reflexes, slapping you across the face. You hold your cheek, the cold weather making the sting worse.

“What the hell!?” You exclaim.

“Stupid whore! You don’t get to speak to me that way! You think that just because you have Joel wrapped around your finger and shoved so deep down your throat, you can walk around this town like you can’t be touched. Well… you’ve never been more wrong. He’ll see. He’ll see just what a liar you really are.” With that final threat, she shoves you hard, causing you to fall on your back in the snow. Your drunken mind struggles to catch up to what just happened and how you’re suddenly parallel with the night sky, a searing pain traveling up your spine.

“Shit..shit..shit…” You roll on your back, the cold seeping through your coat reminding you of the large gash you’ve been hiding for a few days now. Mallory laughs at you, bitterly, as you writhe on the ground, unable to get up in your drunken state. Her laughter gets drowned out by the familiar sound of Joel’s voice coming closer.”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?” He comes stomping over, glaring at Mallory as she plasters a look of faux concern on her face.

“I don’t know, I think she fell because she’s drunk again. I was coming to help her up and take her home to you.” Her fake sweetness makes your teeth hurt just hearing it as Joel kneels next to you.

“Come on, darlin’.” One arm slips under your shoulders while his other hand holds yours helping you to your feet. “Easy.” He whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down your back making you hiss and recoil in pain, stumbling back at the quick motion and almost falling down. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes soften as he searches your face, his chest tight with worry as he watches you draw away from him. You mumble something incoherently, and he can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Mallory attempts to say something to him, her words falling on deaf ears as he slowly and carefully brings you back home. “Come on, up to the bathroom.” His voice, sweet but stern in your ear as he helps you upstairs, guiding you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” He tugs at your coat’s zipper with a soft nod, like he’s speaking to a toddler, waiting for you to nod back before actually taking it off. The chunky sound of your coat unzipping, mixed with your drunken breathing is the only sound in the room. Once it’s off, Joel puts your coat to the side before turning back to you. “Okay, I need you to turn around and straddle the seat for me.” His hands tenderly move to your elbows, helping to shift positions so he can get a full view of your back. You sit back down and giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, a slight grin on his face.

“Straddle,” you giggle more. “It’s a funny word.” Joel huffs out a laugh behind you, shaking his head. “Alright, Giggles, I’m gonna lift your shirt to check your back now.”

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner before you undress me, Miller?” You joke and once again he grins when you can’t see, shaking his head. He doesn’t answer while he grabs the hem of your shirt and starts to carefully roll it up your back with his warm hands. Always so warm, even though it’s below 20 degrees out. His whole aura, the color of a diminishing fire. Not as bright as it once was, but still has the potential to burn bright again. Not in the same way, never in the same way, but warm nonetheless.

His hands move your shirt up and you hear his breath catch in his throat. “…sweet girl.” His words, laced with stress and pity as his fingers delicately stroke your bare skin. You shudder from his gentle touch and the cool air hitting your exposed flesh. “When the hell is this from? This doesn’t look new.” He asks, confused.

“S’not… from those raiders a couple of days ago.” You mumble, even in your drunken state you know he’s going to be pissed.

“2 weeks?!” He exclaims, stressed. “You had this for two weeks and it looks barely healed. Have you even been taking care of it? Or are you giving up on that too?” His hand moves and you hiss as your shirt grazes the irritated wound, making you just pull the shirt over your head leaving your top half completely bare.

“What do you mean given up on that too, Joel? What else have I given up on?” You manage to string the sentence together with enough sobriety to get your irritation across.

“Nothing… it means nothing.” His voice, withdrawn as he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink before turning the conversation back toward my back. “Why’d you hide this for two weeks? It looks like it’s a day away from infection.” He mumbles angrily finding an alcohol wipe from the box and running it over the wound making you grip the top of the toilet tank in pain. “Why didn’t you say anything about this?” He asks, a bit of frustration in his voice. You sigh in relief as he stops using the alcohol on your cut flesh, “...because I knew you’d freak out about it. You’d get all Joel about it and make me feel like shit.”

You answer quietly, each pass of bandage and cleaning solution on your skin, sobering you up slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, offended, his hands pausing against your spine.

“It means. Joel, that you tend to overreact over little things.”

“Little things?!” His voice raises, “This is a huge thing!” He yells, making you turn around on the top of the toilet seat to face him. “It’s a big cut, so what? It was fine until Mallory slapped me and shoved me onto the ground! You should be angry at her, not me.” You seethe, the alcohol making your bite not as strong as you want. “I’m angry at the both of you! Mallory is a bitter woman who is obsessed with the idea of me liking her, and I’ll deal with how she treats you tomorrow, but you,” he pauses, lowering his voice as he tries to calm himself down. Though his volume is quieter, his breathing is still heavy as he steadies himself to answer. “...you are a fuckin’ idiot for not telling me about something like that.”

You scoff, “I’m an idiot? You’re an asshole.” You stand up, “You already made me feel like shit about that altercation with those raiders. If I told you about the cut on top of that, you would have started a fight about me not going on patrols anymore.”

He laughs mirthlessly, “Damn right I would have. I didn’t want you going out there when we were out there!” The stress is evident in his voice as he steps closer.

“Okay, I’m drunk, so that makes zero sense.” You answer confused, unable to process his words at the moment. “You just like having control over what I do. You treat me like a child, like I don’t know what’s going on ever and that you’re the only one who gets a say in my life.” Your words are less slurred that earlier, but you’re still nowhere near sober enough to be having this conversation. “You act like you care, but you really don’t. You just want me around because you’re too scared to have your life change in anyway you can’t control. You see me as a burden to take care of, you think I can’t take care of myself and you don’t want me.” Half the things you’re saying aren’t true, you know he’s aware of your ability to protect yourself, but in this moment you just want to yell at him. You just want to make him feel something for you other than the indifference you believe he feels. Something. Anything that means he cares in the way you want him to, the way you’re too scared to admit to even yourself, let alone him.

His jaw clenches, suddenly aware of the state you’re in as you stand in front of him. His eyes drift to your completely exposes top half, lingering on your breasts for a moment before moving back up to your eyes, schooling his features. “Darlin’... if you believe all that, then you really are an idiot.” He says flatly, internally trying to calm the inner turmoil brewing within him. He wants to tell you everything. He wants to admit why he worries, why he’s so protective, why he gets aggravated when you don’t listen to him wanting to keep you safe. “Put your shirt on and go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but you try anyway.

“There you go again! Telling me what to do, when I don’t want you to.” You turn, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. “There’s only one reason I’d let you tell me what to do, but you don’t want that.” You mumble to yoursel, bitterly, not expecting him to hear all of what you said. When you turn, he’s stalking toward you, backing you up against the wall, his hand reaching to your waist to stop you right before your wounded spine hits the hard surface. He looks down, inches from your face, eyes almost black.

“You don’t tell me what I want. You don’t know what I do or don’t want.” His voice, at a dangerous level, his breath hot on your neck as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, go to bed, and we’ll talk about all of this in the morning.” You gasp at his firmness but you still go to protest. He leaves you no room for argument. “No. No arguments. All I want to hear is ‘Yes, Joel.’ and then go to bed.” He drops his gaze, looking at you to make sure you’re understanding him while waiting for your reply.

“Yes, Joel…” You answer with a small voice. He nods and moves to the side to let you pass by and exit the bathroom. You move slowly to your bedroom, still drunk and even more confused as you drop to your bed with a heavy sigh. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out.

The stabbing pain in your head reminds you of the overconsumption of liquor you had the night beforehand. With your face smushed against your pillow, your fingers tighten around the sheets as the room spins around you. With a groan, your attempt to sit up is over powered by the drastic shift of your insides, a tidal wave of nausea filling up your stomach, weighing you down like a flood filling a once empty pool. As you manage to shift onto your back, the memories of last night play in your mind. Each moment more vivid than the last as they project themselves onto the ceiling above you.

“Fuck…” You mumble to yourself, the heels of your palms pushing against your eyes like a reset button you so desperately need to work, but knowing it won’t. After another five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you manage to sit up, closing your eyes until you gain your equilibrium once again. With an awkward stretch, a sharp pain shoots across your back, making you yelp like a wounded puppy, and ignore the nausea as you shoot out of bed and rush to the mirror attached to the back of your door. You twist your torso with a hiss, attempting to lift your shirt at the same time to see what’s causing the burning sensation on your back.

When you manage to lift the well-worn fabric, you’re met with a giant piece of gauze on your skin, stretching over your spine. With the sight, more of the night comes rushing back to you. You let your head fall back, eyes closed in regret and frustration before looking back into the mirror. Something on the nightstand catches your attention, a scrap of paper. Crossing the room, your chest tightens when you read the words.

We need to talk -Joel.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut

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