#LIKE. OFC IT SOUNDS FAKE AND STUPID

[ichitastic]

mizuki has an important message!!! if you ignore the message anyway youre too immature for the internet <33

[starrbishops]

⟡Perfect Situation⟡

(John Walker x f!Reader)

Summary: You and John have a penchant for getting into stupid situations together. When you kiss him to get out of one such situation, it leads to something more in your friendship.

Word Count: 4.6k

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, the 'ol Natasha Romanoff fake kiss on a mission trope, SMUT, shower sex, male masturbation, voyeurism if you squint, blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up), brief fingering, John Walker's praise kink (ofc), Walker is down BAD, Walker has a big dick (sorry not sorry), reader is a New Avenger/Thunderbolt, Yelena appearance!

a/n: This one has been in the works for a while. My magnum opus of idiots to lovers truly. Idk why I wrote the smut half from John's POV but uh. It's there. Have fun :)

You knew it was a stupid idea from the start.

Unfortunately, if you and John had one thing in common, it was committing hard to stupid ideas.

You were supposed to be doing simple recon, hanging out at a bar which known organized crime members frequented, hoping to pick up some kind of information. The thing was, you’d forgotten the fact that the two of you were now plastered on every billboard and Wheaties box in the country. 

You now found yourselves being chased out by several gangsters with guns and other assorted weapons, trying to get out of sight without being shot.

“Told you this was a dumb fuckin’ idea.” you panted out as you ran, close behind Walker.

“Yeah, well you’re the one who said we didn’t need backup.” he retorted, ducking into an alleyway. You followed, the sound of the gangsters still close.

You found yourselves in a crowded plaza, people bustling all over the place. You scanned the area, looking for soemwhere to hide. You had learned the hard way that you and Walker were now recognizable, and he was a big guy who was hard to hide in a crowd.

A lightbulb went off in your head.

“Follow me.” you grabbed his arm, dragging him off to one of the brick walls encicling the plaza. You leaned your back against it and pulled John towards you.

“What the hell is your plan-”

“Kiss me.”

“What?” he stared down at you, confusion written clearly on his face. 

You could hear the shouts of the gangsters getting closer. “Just, fucking do it, okay? I’ll explain later.”

He just took a breath before leaning in and smashing his lips to yours, pressing you against the wall. His arms caged you in as he kissed you, covering you from view of the mobsters.

John was a surprisingly good kisser, you thought to yourself. He was married for years, of course he was. Still, even faking it he was doing a damn good job. He kissed with a fervor, like it was the last thing he was ever going to do.

He was the kind of guy to commit to a dumb idea.

You kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to make a passionate show of it. You heard the mobsters walk by, one of them making an ‘eugh’ sound. After a moment, you pulled back, opening your eyes and peering over John’s shoulder.

“We’re good.” you turned to him, finding his face red and nervous. You’ve never seen John flustered before. “Hey, you okay?”

He nods feverishly, straighetning up in front of you. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah, it’s just, uh, been a while.”

Oh. Right. The divorce. It’s been a while since he and Olivia officially divorced, even longer since they’d separated. As far as you knew, John wasn’t interested in dating after her.

“Shit, sorry.” 

He just shrugged. “Not like you’re stealing my innocence, I mean, I was married.”

You both laugh it off awkwardly, moving to the alley to make your way back to the Watchtower.

You walk in silence after that, both trying to move on from what’s just happened. Usually you’d be quick to argue with or tease John after a shitty mission like this, but today all that runs through your head is the kiss, the memory of his lips on yours, his massive figure pressing you against the wall as if he was trying to meld himself with you. 

Next to you, John was quiet too. You assumed he was either planning out how to come back from this shitshow of a night, or thinking about Olivia. It made something in your stomach twist, a kind of…jealousy? Whatever it was, you felt it burning inside you as you clenched your fists, walking on without meeting his eyes.

“Oh, you two survived. Wonderful.” Yelena called from her spot on the couch as you entered, shoulders sagged and tired from running. “I see it went well.”

“Shut up.” John grumbled as he made straight for his room, not even saying a goodnight, leaving you alone in the entryway with the Russian spy. You can hear his door creak and slam from down the hall.

“What’s got him all grumpy?”

“Getting chased down by gangsters who keep calling you knock-off Cap will do that to you.” you slid your jacket off and plopped down next to Yelena, staring aimlessly at whatever reality TV show she was playing. “Mission was bad, he’ll get over it.”

Yelena just shrugs, turning her attention back to the TV. Part of you wants to tell her about the kiss, but you know she’ll tease you relentlessly for it, even moreso if you admitted that you liked it. 

“You know, Walker usually comes home happy when he’s with you.” Yelena comments, drawing your attention from your spiraling thoughts to her, “Even when things go bad. You make him more…optimistic.”

You just stare down into your lap, knowing she’s right. You get along with Walker more than anyone else on the team. An unlikely pair, but the two of you work well together. It’s why you agree to his stupid missions and why he supports your dumb choices. You’re two idiot peas in a pod, always in it together.

You worry you’ve ruined what you had. Things have been different with John for a while now. Where silence used to be comfortable it becomes more intense, like there’s words going unsaid in the way he looks at you. 

You’ve thought about kissing him before. Hell, you’ve thought about doing plenty of things to him before, and you weren’t thinking about smacking him when he did something wrong. Maybe your dumb kiss idea was an extension of that, your brain resorting to primal instincts instead of your training. And now here you sit, John having barely spoken to you after the kiss.

God, you fucked up.

You make some excuse about getting some rest to Yelena, making for John’s room immediately. How could you be so stupid? Letting your dumb feelings get in the way of the mission, of your friendship, of the whole team dynamic. You knock on his door, silently praying he’ll forgive you your stupidity. 

You receive no answer. You think for a moment, trying the door and finding it unlocked. You step in, hoping he’s just tired and avoiding you for the moment.

You find an empty room, hearing the shower from his en-suite running. Shit. You’ll try again tomorrow.

As you turn to leave, you hear some kind of grunting noise. You whip around on instinct peering around for the source of it. Something coming from the bathroom. It sounds like the grunts John makes when he’s focused in battle, the ones you always tease him about. 

You hear it again. It’s less angry sounding than it is when he’s fighting, but still as intense. Is he having a batte with the shampoo bottle or something?

You tiptoe closer to the door, your brain trying to come up with potential reasons. Maybe he’s hurt and didn’t tell you. He does historically have a tendency to not mention his wounds, deal with them himself so as not to worry others. You’ve insisted time and time again it’s no burden, and you thought he’d gotten over it.

You’re about to knock on the door, ask if he’s alright, when you hear it.

Your name.

Your brain screeches to a halt, wondering how he knew you were there. Then you hear it again, not an acknowledgement or a greeting, but a groan.

Oh. That’s what he’s doing.

Oh.

You clamp your hand over your mouth to avoid gasping, praying he didn’t hear you. Your mind is rushing at a million miles an hour.

So that’s why he was being weird after the kiss. It’s why he always stares at you in silence, looking like he has something to say. It’s why he shivers every time you touch him, clean up his wounds or even just nudge him in a meeting.

You’re frozen to your spot, wondering what you do now. The groaning sounds continue, and it certainly sounds like he’s enjoying himself. While thinking about you. Just imagining him, hair soaked and skin drenched in water, touching himself to the thought of you sparks a fire inside you.

The sounds stop. You snap out of your fantasies and immediately enter a state of panic, wondering what to do. This is not a scenario you’ve ever planned for. Do you wait for him to come out and confront him? Terrible idea, you look like a pervert. Do you run away and bring it up later? Again, pervert. There’s no winning. Best idea is to pretend it never happened.

But you don’t want to do that. You want to stomp in there and help him finish the job.

The water shuts off, and you decide on running. You tiptoe as fast as you can to the door, quietly turning the knob.

You think you’re home free till you hear the loud screech coming from the hinges of the door.

Damn John and his propensity for dramatically slamming doors.

The sounds of activity in the bathroom cease. You freeze, hoping and praying he didn’t hear it.

“Hello?” Shit, he heard it. Now what? “...Hi?” you call out nervously, immediately slamming your head against the wall.

You refuse to look back as John walks in, instead closing the godforsaken creaky door as you contemplate your fate. You’ve made things so, so much worse somehow.

“Hey.” he says, a tinge of nerves in his voice.

You clear your throat, trying to disguise your own fear and embarassment. “Hey.”

“How long were you, uh, out here for?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, still gripping the doorbknob like a lifeline. “Um, not too long. I was just, uh, coming to check on you because you seemed mad and I, I didn’t know you were in there. I was just leaving!” Great lying. You wonder sometimes how you became an Avenger.

“Oh.” His voice is gravelly, tired from a long day and after his shower activities. “So you, um…” 

You don’t even let him finish his sentence. “I didn’t hear anything!” Shit.

“I didn’t…” he trails off with a sigh. You can hear his wet foot squelch against the floor as he takes a step towards you. “Look, I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have had to hear that, it was…inappropriate, to say the least.”

“Oh, yeah.” you mumble, your brain basically running on fumes and reverting back to your base state of sarcasm. Walker just sighs in embarrassment behind you.

“Look, I… I don’t want things to be uncomfortable. If you don’t want to be around me after that, I understand, but I-I do enjoy being your friend. Even if I may want something more and you don’t.”

You finally open your eyes, leaning agaisnt the now shut door as you turn to face John. He’s clad in nothing for a towel, hair messy and sticking to his forehead. You can see everything; his strong biceps, the vein in his forearm that drives you crazy when he flexes it, his v-line running down beneath the cotton towel. You do your best not to ogle, focusing on his face, which has gone beet-red from the heat of the shower and the embarrassment of being caught.

You take a breath, trying to calm yourself before you speak. “Who said I didn’t want something more?”

His eyes light up, his face somehow becoming even more red. “You do?” he practically whispers, hope growing. 

“I was going to say sorry, for kissing you earlier, because I thought you were angry with me.” you chuckle, reeling at the insanity of your current situation. “I thought I ruined our friendship, and I was gonna beg for your forgiveness because I let my feelings get in the way of things and I made you hate me-”

“Hey.” he interrupts your rambling, crossing to room to stand in front of you, a mirror of your earlier kiss, with you backed against the wall and him hovering above you. “I could never hate you.”

You just nod, gazing up at him. “I do. Want something more.” you breathe in as you realize you’ve been holding your breath. “I want you.”

He’s giving you that look again, the one you now recognize as longing, although he looks strained, like he’s still holding himself back.

“Can I…” he steps closer, almost flush against you. “Can I kiss you? Again?”

“God, please do.” you grab the nape of his neck and pull him down, smashing your lips to his like it’s the end of the world and this is the only chance you’ll get. His hands move to cup your face, kissing back with all the intensity and feeling he’s held back. All the words left unsaid, the yearning looks, the late nights lying awake, he pours it into this, clutching onto you like you’re his salvation.

“You’re wet.” you mumble against his lips, feeling the rumble of laughter in his chest as you kiss him again, pulling him against you. Your clothes are wet now too, but you couldn’t care less. You just keep kissing him like his lips are the air you need to breathe.

His hands move from your face, trailing down to your waist, just above the curve of your ass.

“Can I have you?” he asks, breathless, his mouth resting on your forehead. “Please?”

“John.” you pant, and you can see his face fall, just a little, as you look up. “I am so gross from all that running.”

He just laughs, taking your hand in his. “That’s what showers are for.” he grins as he tugs you towards the door, holding it open for you to walk through. He wolf whistles as you do so, checking you out from behind. You elbow his stomach gently on the way in before you move to start undressing.

John’s still only got his towel, so he simply turns the water on and stands back to enjoy the show, watching you tug your shirt over your head, start to unbutton your pants. Every piece of skin you show somehow makes him harder, and the towel is doing a poor job of covering him up. Still, he waits to drop it, biding his time.

“What, are you enjoying the show?” you pause as you notice John’s eyes on you.

“Very much.” he grins cheekily.

“Alright, get in the shower, loverboy, I’ll see you in there.” you wave him off as you move to unclip your bra.

He does as he’s told, although he can’t help but mouth off. “That’s a new nickname.” he comments as he slides the glass door open once more.

“Would you rather I call you ‘creep?’”

“See you in there!” he ignores the last comment as he drops his towel, tossing it on the counter as he steps back into the shower. This time you whistle at the sight of his ass, eliciting a chuckle from him before he shuts the door again.

The water borders on scalding, the way he likes it. The serum made him run warm, and it takes just that much more heat for him to really feel it. He lets his pour over his face, run through his hair as he tries to ignore his aching erection.

It wasn’t the first time he’d masturbated to the thought of you. It’d been an accident the first time, honestly. He’d already been in the process, near finishing when all of a sudden your face had popped into his head, clear as day. Not even anything sexual about you, just your presence, your smile. He came harder than he ever had with just his hand before.

He felt guilty about it after. And every other time he’d done it. He couldn’t look at you for days afterwards. He liked you, a lot. You were on his mind all the time, not just when he was jerking off. And it was more than just your body. It was you, the way you believe in him, backed up even the stupidest ideas, laughed at his terrible jokes. The fact that you were unbelievably attractive was also a plus.

Just thinking about you right now, undressing outside for him made him have to steady himself against the wall, hand pressing into the tile just to avoid touching himself. He’s about to ask what’s taking so long when the door slides open, revealing your naked form as you step in to join him.

Any snarky remark he was going to make leaves his brain immediately. His eyes rake over you, taking it all in. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the sharp edges of your collarbone. He’s honestly speechless, even more so when you turn to shut the door and he can see your bare ass. He doesn’t even hear what you say as he struggles to put into words the sheer beauty before him.

“Huh?” he manages to snap out of it, standing up straight.

“I said, are you okay?” you laugh, joinigng him under the stream of water. The droplets soak your skin. Leaving shining traces where they drizzle down. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he finally manages.

You just smile, running your hands through your now wet hair. John feels like his heart is going to explode. And his dick, too.

Instead, he blinks hard, trying to ignore how goddamn horny he is. “Um, you need some help?” he waves a bar of soap in front of you, and with a nod from you, begins lathering your shoulders with it.

Neither of you talks as he explores your body with his hands, tracing the curve of your spine down to your ass as he cleans you. It feels intimate, safe here with you, like the rest of the world disappears. In here, there is no failed mission, no New Avengers, no pressure to save the world. It’s just you and him, baring yourselves to one another.

Once you’ve rinsed all the soap off, you finally turn to him, a mischievous grin on your face. “Need some help?” you echo his earlier words, one hand moving to wrap around the base of his cock. He hisses at the contact, his aching erection finally reivieng some attention.

“God, yes, please…” he can barely string a sentence together while you sink down to your knees, beginning to stroke him up and down. His hand returns to the tile, trying to hold himself together as you touch him.

“Jesus, so good.” it’s intoxicaintg, the sight of you on your knees before him. He’s imagined it before, but nothing compares to the real thing. Your eyes, blown out with lust as you look up at him, one hand around his length and hte other between your thighs. He memorizes the sight, wanting to preserve it forever in his memory.

Then you’re licking the dripping precum from his tip, and he groans outright. “You’re a loud one, huh?” you comment, before taking the head of him in your mouth, earning another broken moan from his lips. 

You take him deeper into your mouth, and it feels impossibly good. He can feel a moan vibrate around his cock as you suck him. One hand moves to grab your hair, not pulling, just grounding him as you continue bobbing your head on his dick, your hand stroking the base of him. “Fuck, John,” you moan as you take a momentary break, “‘s big.” 

He was already close before, having been unable to finish during his earlier shower, but he feels about to go off the deep end already now, the way you caress him, the feel of your mouth on him yoru dirty compliments.

“God, baby, I’m gonna…Christ, you feel so good.” He starts weighing his options, cum in your mouth, or cum in your cunt. He picks the second one. “Honey, wait, please.”

You release him with a wet pop, a lewd sound that makes up for his removal from your mouth. You give him a confused look, as he tries to catch his breath. He can feel his brain short circuitng at the sight of you, water streaming down your naked form, on your knees with your hands wrapped around his cock. You look like a work of art. “First time I cum with you is gonna be inside you.” You grin, giving one last lick up the underside of his length, his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Alright, get up here.” he releases your hair, instead pulling you back to standing. He stumbles back a bit as he removes his hand from the wall, still dizzy from his near orgasm. He pulls you in close, kissing you once more as he backs you against the wall.

“Fuck, John…” you moan as he kisses down your neck, sucking a bruise into your collarbone. He couldn’t care less if anyone sees it later. Let them, he thinks. Let them know you’re mine.

He wraps his hands under your thighs, pulling you up. He silences your yelp with another burning kiss, desperate to be inside of you already. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as his cock brushes agaisnt your soaked core.

Holding you up with one hand, his other moves to your cunt, feeling your wetness mixed with the water of the shower. He delves one finger into you, eliciting a gasp. He can feel you squeeze around him, arousal practically dripping from you. “This all for me?” he asks between kisses on your neck. 

You nod fervently, wiggling your hips as you try to pull him in deeper. “Yes, God, John, all for you.”

He smiles, removing his finger, much to your displeasure. You’re distracted from it as he brings it to his mouth, sucking your juices off slowly, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. He’ll have to eat you out after this, he thinks, moving it to the top of the list of things he wants to do to you. The look of awe and pure lust on your face will have to do for now. First, he needs to fuck you like his life depends on it. 

He grips his cock, dragging it agaisnt your cunt, lining himself up. “You ready?” he checks in, blue eyes meeting yours. “It’s a lot.”

He doesn’t even mean to brag, just pointing out a fact. He’s always been on the longer side, but the serum somehow added more girth, something he had to adjust to. You’re the first person he’s had sex with since the divorce, so he’s extra careful.

You just chuckle, your hand threading into his blond locks. “I’m ready.” you tell him, the same confident tone you go into a mission with, the voice you use when you’re about to dive headfirst into danger, or another stupid situation.

He is quite the stupid situation, he thinks. This whole thing is a terrible choice. Putting yourself on the line with him, of all people? He’d never think poorly of you, never think of you as stupid. You just tended to make dumb choices, and he was the dumbest choice of all. Maybe that’s what made you perfect for each other.

Still, he furrows his brows, eyes trained on yours as he begins to push in. You’re so hot around him, your walls squeezing him like a vice, and he’s only put the tip in. He goes as slowly as he can, not wanting to hurt you. Inch by inch, he keeps his eyes on your face, watching every moan, the way your face contorts with pleasure. He groans as he finally bottoms out, his hands gripping your thighs with the effort it takes to keep from fucking into you.

Your own hands dig into his shoulder blades, hard enough to break skin. He’s sure he’ll be left with a few crescent scars from where your nails scratch his skin, and he couldn’t be happier. He tries to breathe, to hold himself together and not fall apart instantly with you clenching around his cock.

“Holy shit, John.” you groan, trying to catch your breath. “Y-you can move.”

John is a man who follows orders, and with your permission, he slowly pulls out of you, quickly thrusting back in. He sets a pace, pulling lamost all the way out before he slams back into you.

“Harder, John.” you moan into the crook of his neck. He groans at your request.

“Jesus, baby, you’re gonna kill me.”

He does as you tell him, picks up his pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. His balls slap against your ass, the sound of wet skin on skin echoing through the shower. “So good, John, so full…” one of your hands runs along his jaw, caressing his cheek. You use it to pull him into another kiss, this one all teeth and tongue clashing against each other, reckless passion as he pounds into you. “So fucking handsome, John.”

Your praise only drives him crazier, his hips bucking into yours as he fucks you with all his might. It feels like heaven, being inside you. Better than any dream he’s had of it. Your tight, wet cunt practically choking him as he thrusts his cock in and out of you. He’s grateful for the stamina the serum gave him, because he thinks he’d die if he stops now. His brain has turned off fully, barely able to string together words anymore. All he knows is that he has to keep going, has to feel you cum on his cock, and has to fill you up with his cum.

He doesn’t even realize he’s talking aloud till he feels you grip him tighter, nodding agaisnt his shoulder. “God, yes, John, fill me up, please.” you moan. The sound is music to his ears. 

“Gotta cum for me first, honey.” he pants, thrusts becoming shallower and more erratic as he feels himself getting closer. He moves one hand to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles into your sensitive bud. “Please, cum on my cock, baby.”

If he thought you were tight before, it’s nothing compared to how you spasm around him as you cum. You scream out his name, nails cutting into his skin. He doesn’t stop, just keeps fucking you like his life depends on it, chasing his own release desperately.

“John.” you murmur out as you come down. “Cum inside me, please, need you too.”

John Walker is a man who follows orders.

He lets himself go, with one last thrust pushing himself as deep into you as possible. His cock releases hot ropes of cum into you as he finally fnishses. He moans out your name, biting your shoulder in an attempt to stifle himself. His hands clutch yoru thighs hard enough to bruise as he instinctively thrusts once, twice more, as if he’s trying to fuck his spend as deep into you as possible.

“You’re perfect.” he catches his breath as he comes down from his high. He knows better than to say ‘i love you,’ even if it’s what he’s thinking right now. Later, he tells himself. It’s exhilarating, the thought of it. That there will be a later, that you want to be with him. “God, you’re incredible.” he kisses you, the promise of more to come, the promise to be here for later. Even as he doesn’t say it aloud, the kiss is as much an ‘i love you’ as the words themselves. For now, that’s all you need. 

a/n: i'm really proud of this one and i hope y'all liked it as well! thank you all for reading and sticking with me as my writing has improved, i love sharing my love for these characters with y'all! ain't much, but it's honest work.

[bueckersleftbraid]

”— Not For Real

WC: just abt 4.0k (trust it’s good even tho it’s short)

paring: pazzi ofc 🤗

warnings: ummm fluff, fake dating, rom com ass moments, paige lowkey being stupid

authors notes —> hi!! here is this. I sort of love it so I hope you do too! I wrote this quick so my apologies for how short it is but it’s very cutesy

THE PITCH

The coffee shop was nearly empty except for a few students buried in their laptops and an older couple sharing a newspaper by the window. Paige slid into the booth, her cheeks still pink from the cold outside, a takeout cup in one hand and skepticism written all over her face.

Azzi was already there, lounging like she owned the place, one leg crossed over the other and an unread book open in front of her like a decoy. Her sunglasses were perched unnecessarily on top of her head, her dark curls pulled back in a loose bun. She didn’t look frantic or upset — not the way her text had sounded— “Emergency. Meet me at Haven. Bring caffeine.”

“Alright,” Paige said, plunking her drink down. “I came. I caffeinated. What’s the ‘emergency’?”

Azzi gave her a look, one brow quirked, the corners of her mouth twitching like she was holding back a grin. Paige didn’t trust that expression. Azzi was rarely panicked. Calculated? Yes. Hyper-competitive? Definitely. But desperate?

Something was up.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

Paige blinked. “You—what?”

Azzi didn’t flinch. “Just for a few weeks.”

Paige sat back, stunned. “This is a joke.”

“I’m completely serious.”

There was a silence between them, the kind that stretched and pulled like taffy. Paige stared, trying to figure out if Azzi had finally lost it.

Azzi’s tone was matter-of-fact. “My sister’s wedding is in three weeks. My parents are hosting half the extended family. And last year—because I was being cornered by four aunties asking why I was single—I might’ve said I was dating someone. Someone serious.”

“Oh my God.”

“I didn’t say it was you,” Azzi added quickly. “But now they want to meet her. And I panicked. And I may have shown them a photo from our joint charity game last summer. You looked good.”

“You—what?”

“I didn’t think they’d remember! But now they’re asking if you’re coming. And since I hate lying—”

“You’re literally lying right now,” Paige interrupted.

“—I figured it’s less lying if it’s you,” Azzi said, flashing a smile that could only be described as weaponized charm.

Paige stared at her like she’d grown another head.

She and Azzi had never been friends, not exactly. Their relationship existed in a gray area between reluctant allies and rivals. They knew each other’s weak spots. They pushed each other during games, sparred during interviews, and occasionally made nice at league events. There had always been tension there — a kind that hovered just on the edge of something else.

But this?

“Why me?” Paige asked finally.

Azzi didn’t answer immediately. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. Her expression turned serious — sincere in a way that Paige rarely saw from her.

“Because you can handle it,” she said. “My family can be… intense. They’ll ask questions. They’ll pry. I need someone who’s smart, quick, and can improvise. You’re the only person I trust not to crack.”

Paige felt a strange flicker of pride at that, which she quickly smothered. She hated how Azzi’s approval always stirred something in her.

“I don’t know,” Paige said, eyeing her warily. “What’s in it for me?”

Azzi smiled, like she’d been expecting that.

“I’ll owe you. Big time. I’ll even owe you publicly, if you want. You name the favor. I’ll make it happen.”

Paige took a slow sip of her latte, weighing her options. She could walk away. Tell Azzi she was out of her mind and let her deal with the fallout.

But instead, she said, “I want your warm-up playlist.”

Azzi went still.

“…You’re not serious.”

“I am deadly serious,” Paige replied. “The one you play with the wireless earbuds. The one you turn off the second someone gets too close. You give me that playlist, and I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Azzi looked betrayed. “That’s like—sacred. That’s mine.”

Paige smirked. “Then maybe you should’ve asked someone else to fake date you.”

Azzi muttered something under her breath and stared down at her coffee like it had betrayed her too. Then she sighed, reached into her bag, and pulled out her phone.

She scrolled, tapped, and then held it out. “You’re the worst.”

“I try,” Paige said, gleefully accepting the transfer.

There was a strange beat of silence after that, as if both of them realized this was no longer hypothetical. Azzi sat back, a little too calm again.

“So,” Paige said cautiously, “how exactly does this work?”

Azzi raised a brow. “We ease into it. Coffee shops, casual photos, a couple of public run-ins. We soft-launch the relationship by next weekend. Then the wedding. A few smiling family photos. Some lingering looks. Maybe even a dance. Two weeks after that, we stage a quiet breakup. Friendly. Mutual. Devastatingly mature.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “You’ve thought this through.”

Azzi gave her a crooked grin. “You have no idea.”

THE ACT

Fake dating, Paige quickly realized, required a surprising amount of coordination.

There were rules, schedules, contingencies. Texts needed timestamps. Stories had to match. They spent an entire afternoon building a believable relationship history — from their “first coffee after a preseason scrimmage” to their “accidental slow dance at a teammate’s birthday party.” Paige had never spent so much time with Azzi without the sound of sneakers squeaking on hardwood in the background.

And somehow, being around her without the structure of basketball— just sitting close on a couch, laptops open, occasionally stealing each other’s fries— felt more intimate than anything else they’d ever done.

It was during brunch on the first Saturday of the plan that things started to feel…off.

Not bad off. Just different.

Their table was tucked into the corner of a sunlit café that Paige didn’t usually frequent— the kind of place with overpriced avocado toast and artisanal jam in tiny glass jars. She kept checking the window, half-expecting someone to recognize them.

Azzi, meanwhile, looked utterly unbothered. 

She was dressed in a soft brown sweater that brought out the warm undertones in her skin, her hair loose for once, curls brushing her shoulders. She’d insisted on sitting next to Paige instead of across from her — “Couples sit side-by-side. Optics.” — and now, her knee kept brushing Paige’s beneath the table like it was nothing.

It was not nothing.

Paige was hyper-aware of every point of contact: the press of Azzi’s shoulder, the occasional light touch on her wrist when Azzi laughed at something she said. And then there was the moment— the one Paige didn’t know how to explain— when Azzi reached across the table and gently, casually, brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth.

“Missed a spot,” she said, voice low, like it was just for her.

Paige stared, momentarily frozen. She barely managed a sarcastic “Thanks, Mom,” just to defuse the tension in her own chest.

Azzi only smirked.

Then— in full view of the table across from them— she reached down and laced her fingers through Paige’s.

Paige’s pulse jumped.

“What are you doing?” she hissed under her breath.

Azzi tilted her head. “Handholding. Basic public display. You want this to be convincing, right?”

“This is—” Paige trailed off, unable to find a word that didn’t sound like denial. Her fingers stayed tangled in Azzi’s for a beat longer than necessary before she forced herself to look away.

Convincing. Right. This was just for show.

But it felt like something else.

____

Later that evening, they found themselves scrolling through Instagram together on Azzi’s couch, reviewing what Azzi referred to as “launch content.” It had been Paige’s idea to soft-launch their relationship through stories and casual posts — enough to stir curiosity without a hard announcement. “Let the public fill in the blanks,” she’d said. “It’ll feel more real if people think they caught it happening.”

Azzi had been disturbingly into that idea.

“Okay,” Paige said, reviewing a photo Azzi had taken earlier — the two of them walking away from the café, arms looped together. It was slightly blurry, clearly taken from behind. “This one looks stolen. Paparazzi vibe.”

“Good,” Azzi said. “Tag it or leave it?”

Paige sighed. “Leave it. Keep them guessing.”

Azzi grinned, but her voice was quieter when she added, “You’re good at this.”

Paige didn’t look up. “At lying to the world?”

“At making it believable,” Azzi said. “Too believable, maybe.”

There was a silence between them.

Paige felt it stretch again — like the space between words you want to say but don’t know how to. The room was warm, too warm, and she suddenly became very aware of the fact that they were sitting closer than strictly necessary.

She risked a glance over.

Azzi was already looking at her.

Paige swallowed hard. “You’re kind of good at this, too.”

Azzi arched a brow. “Kind of?”

Paige shook her head, eyes flicking away.“Unfairly good.”

A smirk tugged at Azzi’s lips, but she didn’t press. Instead, she nudged Paige’s knee lightly with her own. “Don’t overthink it, Bueckers. Just follow my lead.”

That sentence echoed in Paige’s head for the rest of the night.

____

The first real test came the following weekend— a casual dinner with some of Azzi’s extended family visiting early for the wedding.

Paige had told herself she was prepared. She’d practiced their story, remembered names, even rehearsed a few go-to anecdotes. But nothing prepared her for the way Azzi introduced her:

“This is Paige,” Azzi had said, voice softening at the edges. “She’s the one I’ve been telling you about.”

It shouldn’t have hit Paige in the chest the way it did. But the pride in Azzi’s voice, the way she slipped an arm around her waist like it was second nature, it all felt too natural.

Too easy.

“You’re even prettier in person,” Azzi’s aunt said with a warm smile, making Paige blush hard enough to want to hide under the table.

“She is, isn’t she?” Azzi replied, grinning, and Paige gave her a warning glance that Azzi absolutely ignored.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation, wine, and shared glances that lingered a little too long. At one point, someone brought up future plans — careers, cities, and timelines — and Paige heard herself say something about “we’re figuring things out,” and Azzi didn’t correct her.

She just nodded. Like it was true.

Like it could be.

That night, after the guests had gone and they were back on the couch, Paige kicked off her heels and flopped backward with a groan. “I deserve an Oscar.”

Azzi collapsed next to her, eyes half-lidded from wine and exhaustion. “They love you already.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“You were perfect,” Azzi said quietly, not teasing for once. “Natural.”

Paige turned her head to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Sometimes I forget we’re faking it.”

Paige’s breath caught.

For a moment, the room felt too still. The words hung between them like something fragile — something dangerous.

“Don’t,” Paige said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t what?” Azzi asked.

“Don’t say stuff like that unless you mean it.”

Azzi looked at her. Really looked. Then — just as softly — said, “Maybe I do.”

Paige didn’t answer.

She didn’t move.

She just let the words sit there, tucked between them on the couch, daring her to pick a side.

THE SHIFT

Paige had faced playoff pressure before. She’d stood at the free throw line with a championship on the line, heard arenas scream her name, stared down defenders with everything at stake.

And still, nothing made her feel quite as unsteady as walking into Azzi’s childhood home.

The place was beautiful — all warm wood and framed memories, the scent of something sweet in the air — but it wasn’t the house itself that threw her.

It was the fact that everyone knew who she was.

“Oh my god, the girlfriend!”

“You’re even cuter than the photos!”

“I heard she plays just as well as Azzi — is that true?”

“Do you want to see baby pictures?!”

Azzi watched it all unfold with thinly veiled amusement, her arm a steady presence at Paige’s back. She was too calm. Too smooth. Like she’d always known Paige would say yes. Like she’d planned for this exact moment.

Paige leaned toward her as soon as they had a sliver of privacy in the hallway. “Your family’s intense.”

“I warned you,” Azzi said with a smirk, then added, “You’re handling it like a pro.”

“I’m dying inside.”

Azzi bumped her shoulder. “You look great while doing it.”

The rehearsal dinner was the first real blow.

Paige had worn a soft cream dress that Azzi couldn’t seem to stop staring at — not that she ever said anything outright, just a glance too long when Paige wasn’t looking, or a compliment murmured so low it felt like a secret.

They sat together at the head table, posing for casual couple photos, telling rehearsed stories about “how we met” and “our first date,” laughing too easily, leaning in like magnets.

But it was during the toasts— when the groom’s brother started talking about soulmates— that Paige glanced over and caught Azzi watching her.

Not with amusement. Not with performance.

But with something soft. Bare. Real.

It was the kind of look no one gives unless they mean it.

Paige looked away, heart thudding in her chest, guilt bubbling like carbonation in her ribs. This was fake. This was supposed to stay fake.

But suddenly, she didn’t know if Azzi had ever drawn the line. And worse — she didn’t know if she had either.

____

That night, in the guest room down the hall, Paige lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her mind racing.

She thought of how Azzi had casually brushed her hair over her shoulder earlier. Of the way she’d poured her wine without asking. Of how she’d reached for Paige’s hand in the dark when no one was watching.

This was the most dangerous part of the lie: the moments that didn’t serve the story. The things that weren’t for anyone else.

And then came the knock.

Soft. Hesitant.

She sat up. “Yeah?”

Azzi peeked through the door. She wasn’t in her dress anymore— just a pair of shorts and an old tee, her curls pulled back loosely, her expression unreadable. “You decent?”

“Depends on your definition,” Paige said, forcing a weak smile.

Azzi stepped in and leaned against the doorframe. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Paige watched her carefully. “Me either.”

There was a long pause.

Azzi broke it, quietly. “Can I tell you something?”

Paige nodded.

“I didn’t think this would get to me.” Azzi looked down, fiddling with a ring on her finger. “It was supposed to be simple. Clean. Controlled.”

“But it’s not.”

“No,” Azzi said. “It’s not.”

Paige felt her heart tug, just a little. “You’re not the only one.”

Azzi looked up at that— eyes locking onto hers, something raw flickering behind them. “When I look at you, Paige…” She stopped. Swallowed. “I forget we’re faking it.”

Paige didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

She just sat there, frozen, every nerve in her body firing at once.

Azzi crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough that Paige could see the tension in her shoulders. “You can tell me to stop. You can tell me it’s just a role. But I need you to know I’m not pretending anymore.”

Silence.

A long one.

Then, quietly— like a truth Paige had been holding in for days— she said, “I don’t want to pretend either.”

Azzi’s eyes searched hers. “You mean that?”

Paige nodded, voice shaking. “Yeah. I do.”

____

The next day was chaos. Wedding prep. Final fittings. Tears and champagne and frantic flower girls. But somehow, through it all, Paige and Azzi found pockets of stillness.

A touch on the back as they passed each other.

A whispered joke during a photo session.

A look— held too long— when no one else was looking.

By the time the dance floor opened and Azzi reached for her hand, Paige didn’t hesitate.

They danced slow. Intimate. Their arms wrapped around each other like second nature.

“Everyone’s watching,” Paige murmured, her cheek brushing Azzi’s.

Azzi’s hand tightened at her waist. “Let them.”

“I feel like we’re supposed to kiss or something.”

Azzi paused. “Do you want to?”

Paige pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Not because we’re supposed to. Only if it’s real.”

Azzi looked at her like she’d already made that choice.

And then, quietly, deliberately— she kissed her.

Soft at first. Like a question. Then with more certainty, like she already knew the answer.

When they pulled apart, Paige didn’t look away.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” she whispered.

Azzi smiled. “Good.”

____

The kiss didn’t shatter anything.

It settled something. Quiet and unforced, it slipped between them like a puzzle piece finally falling into place. Not a performance, not a statement— just Paige and Azzi, wrapped in music and low light, eyes closed to the world and open only to each other.

And then, slowly, the moment passed.

They pulled apart, breath brushing between them, eyes locked. Paige blinked first.

Someone behind them cheered— not for them, for the newlyweds— and the real world came rushing back.

But nothing about them felt fake anymore.

They didn’t talk about the kiss right away.

Paige needed space to think. She slipped away from the reception after midnight, half-drunk on champagne and adrenaline, and found herself sitting on the venue’s back steps, heels dangling from her hand.

She was running her thumb over the lip of a glass when Azzi found her.

“You always disappear after the good parts,” Azzi said, voice soft as she stepped into the night.

Paige didn’t look over. “Wasn’t sure if it was a good part.”

Azzi sat beside her. Close, but not touching. “It was for me.”

That quiet admission settled in Paige’s chest like warmth in cold hands.

She exhaled. “I don’t know where the line is anymore.”

Azzi didn’t speak for a moment. Then, “I think it’s gone.”

Paige finally turned to look at her.

Azzi’s hair was wind-tousled, cheeks flushed from dancing. Her eyes, though, were steady. “This stopped being fake a while ago. We just didn’t want to be the first to say it.”

Paige bit her lip. “And now?”

“Now I want to know what it looks like when it’s not a performance.”

There was no crowd to play to here. No family. No cameras. Just moonlight, soft music from inside, and two people trying to find their footing.

“I’m scared it’s not different enough,” Paige admitted. “That it’ll feel the same, and somehow that’ll make it less real.”

Azzi reached for her hand. “Then we make it different.”

“How?”

“Let’s start with this.” Azzi’s voice was calm but certain. “Tomorrow— no stories. No setups. We go on a real date. Just you and me.”

“No pretending?”

“No pretending.”

Paige nodded slowly, almost like a dare to herself. “Okay.”

Azzi smiled. “Okay.”

____

They danced again before the night ended.

Not for show, not for pictures. Just the two of them, alone near the edge of the floor, slow-swaying to a song no one else was paying attention to. Azzi’s arms were loose around her waist, and Paige let her forehead rest against Azzi’s collarbone.

No eyes on them.

No script.

No lie.

Just a beginning — unspoken, but undeniably real.

THE RAIN

The wedding glow didn’t last.

Maybe it was the travel. Or the shift back to real life. Or the fact that what had started as a joke— a fake relationship to get through a weekend— had suddenly become something far too delicate to joke about.

Whatever it was, by the time they were back home, something between them had changed.

Paige pulled away first.

Not in a dramatic, obvious way. It was subtle— fewer texts, fewer “just because” calls, excuses about being tired, busy, overwhelmed. She showed up late to dinner one night and didn’t lean in when Azzi brushed her hand.

Azzi noticed every beat of it. Every flinch. Every pause.

But she didn’t push.

Not yet.

____

“You good?” Azzi asked one night, when they were sitting side by side on Paige’s couch, a game on the TV, untouched.

Paige didn’t look over. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

Paige let out a short breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“With me?”

“With any of this.”

Azzi paused. “You want out?”

“No. Yes.” Paige rubbed her face, eyes burning. “I don’t know.”

Azzi didn’t say anything.

Because what could she say, when Paige was already slipping through her fingers?

____

The next few days were worse.

Paige stopped answering. Not just texts — calls, too. She skipped their usual Sunday shootaround. She didn’t invite Azzi to the fundraiser dinner they’d planned to go to together. She didn’t say anything was wrong.

She just stopped showing up.

____

It was raining when Azzi finally found her.

Not a soft drizzle— a downpour, the kind that soaked through clothes in seconds, that made the whole world feel like it was breaking open.

Azzi didn’t care.

She stood outside Paige’s building, coat already heavy with rain, hair clinging to her face, and poundedon the buzzer until someone let her in.

She didn’t call first.

She didn’t text.

She just knocked on Paige’s door, hard, until it opened.

Paige stared at her, stunned. She was barefoot in a hoodie, face pale and tired, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything.

Azzi didn’t wait.

“You don’t get to ghost me,” she said, soaked and furious. “Not after all of that.”

Paige swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“No. You were. And I let you. Because I thought maybe you needed space, but now I’m standing here in a storm, and I’m not leaving until you say whatever it is you’re afraid to say.”

Paige’s voice cracked. “This isn’t going to work.”

Azzi blinked. “What?”

“This thing. Us.” Paige stepped back like she couldn’t bear her own words. “It was supposed to be fake. We were never meant to be real. It’s too much. It’s too fast. And I’m going to mess it up.”

Azzi took a step inside. “You’re not messing it up. You’re running from it.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just scared.”

Paige’s eyes welled up, but she held her ground. “I’ve never had anything like this before, Azzi. Not with anyone. I don’t know what it looks like to let it be real.”

Azzi stood there, soaked to the skin, heart wide open. “You want to know what it looks like?”

Paige didn’t answer.

Azzi closed the space between them. “It looks like me, right now, standing here completely drenched, because I love you so much I couldn’t not come. It looks like two people terrified out of their minds choosing each other anyway.”

Paige froze.

Azzi’s voice dropped. “I love you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then Paige stepped forward— one shaky, breathless step— and kissed her.

Hard. Desperate. Like a dam breaking.

And in the middle of it, she whispered, “I love you too.”

____

Later, they lay tangled on the couch, wrapped in towels and each other, the storm still whispering against the windows.

Neither of them spoke for a while. There was nothing to explain.

Because for the first time, nothing was pretend.

And neither of them was running.

[bloomzone]

2025 : #26 the art of being elegant because it's a beauty that never fades

[ maybe the longest blog I ever made but it worth reading ]

☆ ★ The introduction : why this matters more than anything

You know that feeling when someone walks into a room and everyone just naturally gravitates toward them? They're not necessarily the most conventionally beautiful person there, they're not the loudest, they're not trying the hardest ect ect.. but there's something absolutely magnetic about their presence. People describe them as "She's just so elegant and graceful" or "there's something special about her." That's what we're after here , this is about developing a presence so genuinely confident and warm that even when people disagree with you, criticize you, or try to bring you down, they still can't help but respect u . ur elegance becomes like armor it protects you from negativity while drawing in all the right energy and people ! This kind of elegance is completely accessible to everyooooone it doesn't matter what you look like, how much money you have, where you come from or what you're wearing.... It's about cultivating something from within that radiates outward and touches everyone around you. It's the ultimate glow-up because it's permanent and it grows stronger with time. And it can be the thing that can CHANGE UR LIFE AND ENERGY! ✒️

Part 1: Understanding what elegance actually is (and what It's not)

Before we dive into the how, we need to get crystal CLEAR on what we're actually talking about because there's so much confusion around this word. Elegance has been twisted and misunderstood, especially in our current culture where everything is about being the most dramatic, or the most "extra." y'know ?

What elegance is not :

Elegance is absolutely NOT about being a pick-me girl. If you're putting down other women to make yourself seem more sophisticated or special, that's the complete opposite of elegant. True elegance lifts others up It's not about competing with other women or acting like you're "not like other girls." (Bruuuuuh ) that's insecurity dressed up as superiority, and it's transparent as hell. Elegance is also not about being fake humble or constantly fishing for compliments. You know those people who are always saying "I look terrible today" or "I'm so stupid" just to get people to disagree with them? That's exhausting and manipulative, not elegant girlie. Real elegance means being comfortable with yourself your strengths AND your flaws without needing constant validation from others. It's not about being a doormat either cuz some people think being elegant means never disagreeing with anyone or always being "nice" to the point of having no personality . That's not elegance, that's people-pleasing, and it's actually really unattractive because it's not authentic hear me out . Elegant women have opinions, boundaries, and backbone. The difference is in HOW they express these things and ofc it's definitely not about being perfect or never making mistakes. Perfect people are boring and unrelateable. Elegant people are human they mess up, they have bad days, they make wrong choices sometimes. The elegance comes in how they handle these imperfections with grace and learn from them without drama , please it's not about putting on airs or acting superior to others. If you're changing your voice to sound more "refined" or name-dropping to seem impressive, you're missing the point entirely. True elegance is unpretentious it's about being genuinely yourself, just the best, most polished version of yourself.

what true elegance actually is:

Real elegance is quiet confidence. It's that deep inner knowing of your own worth that doesn't need to announce itself or prove anything to anyone. When you're truly elegant, you're not looking around the room wondering what people think of u , you're genuinely focused on connecting with others and making them feel comfortable and valued.Elegance is grace under pressure. It's staying calm when everyone else is losing their minds, speaking softly when others are yelling, and maintaining your composure even when you're being attacked or criticized. This doesn't mean being emotionless or robotic it means having mastery over your reactions and choosing your responses thoughtfully.Elegance It's is consistency , u're the same person whether you're talking to a CEO or the janitor whether you're having a good day or a terrible one, whether you're with your closest friends or meeting someone new. This consistency comes from having a strong sense of self and clear values that guide your behavior in all situations.

☆ ★ Part 2: building ur inner foundation | the source

u cannot fake elegance. u can learn the mannerisms, copy the style, memorize the etiquette rules, but if you don't have the inner foundation, it will always feel forced and people will sense it. Real elegance starts from the inside and radiates outward.

Developing unshakeable self-worth:

The foundation of elegance is knowing ur worth without needing external validation. This is probably the hardest part because we live in a world that's constantly telling us we're not enough not pretty enough, not smart enough, not successful enough, not anything enough. But elegant women have done the inner work to separate their self-worth from other people's opinions.

☆ This starts with really understanding your own values and living by them consistently. What matters to you? What kind of person do you want to be? What are you willing to stand for, even when it's unpopular? When you have clear answers to these questions and you live by them, you develop an inner compass that guides you through any situation.

☆ You also need to make peace with your flaws and imperfections. This doesn't mean settling or not trying to improve , it means accepting that you're human and that your worth isn't dependent on being perfect. When you can acknowledge your mistakes without shame, laugh at yourself when you do something silly, and accept criticism without getting defensive, you're operating from a place of security rather than insecurity.

☆ Practice self-compassion the same way you would show compassion to a good friend. When you mess up, don't beat yourself up for days. Learn from it and move on giiiirl . When you're having a bad day, don't pretend everything is fine, but don't make it everyone else's problem either. Treat yourself with the same kindness you'd show someone you care about.

Emotional maturity and regulation:

Elegance requires emotional intelligence, the ability to understand and manage your own emotions while being attuned to others' feelings. This is what allows you to stay graceful under pressure and respond rather than react to difficult situations.

☆ Start paying attention to your emotional triggers. What makes you defensive? What makes you angry? What makes you insecure? Once you identify these patterns, you can start to catch yourself before you react poorly. Take a breath nd choose ur response instead of being controlled by your immediate emotional reaction.

☆ Learn to sit with uncomfortable emotions instead of immediately acting on them. If someone says something that hurts your feelings, you don't have to respond right away. You can feel the hurt, process it, and then decide how you want to address it. This space between stimulus and response is where elegance lives.

☆ Develop empathy for others, even when they're being difficult. Most people who are rude or aggressive are dealing with their own pain or insecurity. This doesn't mean you have to tolerate mistreatment, but understanding this helps you not take things personally and respond with grace instead of matching their energy.

Continuous growth and learning:

Elegant women are always growing and learning. They're curious about the world, interested in different perspectives, and committed to becoming better versions of themselves. This intellectual curiosity and growth mindset is incredibly attractive and keeps you interesting and engaged with life.

☆ Read books, not just for entertainment but for knowledge and perspective. Learn about different cultures, historical periods, scientific discoveries, philosophical ideas. You don't need to become an expert in everything but having a broad base of knowledge makes you a more interesting conversationalist and gives you context for understanding the world.

☆ Develop deep expertise in at least one area that you're passionate about. Whether it's art, cooking, music, business, social causes, or anything else, having something you're genuinely passionate about and knowledgeable about makes you more interesting and gives you confidence in at least one area of your life.

☆ Be open to feedback and willing to change your mind when presented with new information. Elegant people aren't so attached to being right that they can't admit when they're wrong. They see learning and growth as more important than protecting their ego.

Part 3: ur physical presence | the foundation of first impressions

People form judgments about you within seconds of seeing you, before you even open your mouth. it's reality ikr even that we say it's unfair. ur physical presence communicates volumes about your confidence, your self-respect, and your attention to detail. The good news is that you have complete control over this aspect of elegance.

Mastering ur posture:

Good posture is literally the backbone of elegance, and it's something you can start improving immediately. Poor posture doesn't just make you look less confident it actually makes you FEEL less confident. There's real science behind the fact that how you hold your body affects your mental state.

Here's how to find your proper posture:

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤFirst of all I recommend yuuka sagawa on ytb she has the best back / posture workout ! 🪽

☆ Stand against a wall with your back flat against it. Your head, shoulders, and butt should all touch the wall. Your feet should be about six inches away from the wall. This is what proper alignment feels like. Your ears should be directly over your shoulders, your shoulders over your hips, your hips over your knees, and your knees over your ankles.

☆ Now, imagine a string attached to the crown of your head, gently pulling you upward. Your shoulders should be back but relaxed - not tense and pulled up toward your ears. Your chest should be open and lifted slightly. Your core should be gently engaged to support your spine. This might feel weird at first if you're used to slouching, but it will become natural with practice.

☆ When you walk, lead with your chest, not your head. Many people walk with their head jutting forward, especially if they're looking at their phone a lot. This makes you look like you're constantly in a hurry or anxious. Instead, keep your head balanced over your shoulders and let your chest lead the way forward.

☆ Practice this everywhere : walking to class, sitting at your desk, standing in line. Set reminders on your phone if you need to. After a few weeks of conscious practice, good posture will become automatic n you'll notice how differently people respond to you.

Your facial expressions and smile:

Your face is the first thing people notice about you, and your facial expressions communicate so much about your inner state. You don't need to have a perfect smile or flawless features to have an elegant presence you just need to be mindful of what your face is communicating.

☆ First let's talk about resting face. We've all heard of "resting bitch face" but the truth is most people's neutral expression looks somewhat unfriendly or unapproachable. This isn't your fault it's just how faces work. But you can make small adjustments that make a huge difference in how approachable you seem.

☆ Keep your facial muscles relaxed, not tense. A lot of people hold tension in their jaw, around their eyes, or in their forehead without realizing it. Do a quick mental check throughout the day are you clenching your jaw? Furrowing your brow? Squinting? Consciously relax these muscles.

☆ Let your eyes be soft and alert like you're genuinely interested in what's happening around you. Hard squinty eyes make you look angry or judgmental, even if you're not. Practice "soft eyes" in the mirror it's a subtle difference, but it makes you look much more approachable and kind.

☆ Now, about smiling this is where a lot of people go wrong. A fake smile is worse than no smile at all because people can tell the difference, even if they can't articulate why. A real smile engages your whole face, not just your mouth. Your eyes crinkle slightly, your cheeks lift, and there's a warmth that's impossible to fake.

☆ Practice your genuine smile in the mirror. Think about something that makes you truly happy a person you love, a funny memory, a goal you're excited about. Watch how your whole face changes. This is the smile you want to access when you're meeting new people or in social situations.

☆ Don't feel like you need to smile constantly that's exhausting and comes across as insincere. But when you do smile make it count. A genuine smile at the right moment can completely change the energy of an interaction.

How u move through space:

The way you move communicates confidence, grace and seeeeelf-awareness. Elegant people move with purpose but not panic, with awareness but not self-consciousness.

☆ Don't rush everywhere like you're constantly late or anxious. Even when you are running late, try to maintain a sense of calm urgency rather than frantic energy. People can feel your energy before you even speak, and frantic energy is contagious and unpleasant.

☆ Move with intention. This means being aware of your body and how you're occupying space. When you sit down, do it gracefully don't just collapse into the chair. When you stand up do it smoothly. When you walk be aware of your gait and rhythm.

☆ Pay attention to your gestures when you speak. Elegant people use their hands to emphasize points, but their gestures are controlled and purposeful, not wild and distracting. Keep your gestures within the frame of your body don't wave your arms around too much.

☆ Be aware of your personal space and others Don't stand too close to people (unless you're in a loud environment where you need to), but don't stand so far away that you seem distant or uncomfortable. Find that sweet spot where people feel comfortable and engaged.

ur voice and how u speak:

Your voice is an incredibly powerful tool that most people completely underutilize. The way you speak communicates confidence, intelligence, and thoughtfulness or the opposite.

☆ Slow down your speech. Most people talk too fast, especially when they're nervous or excited. Speaking too quickly makes you seem anxious and makes it harder for people to understand and connect with what you're saying. Practice speaking at about 75% of your normal speed it will feel slow to you, but it will sound perfect to others.

☆ Use pauses effectively don't be afraid of silence in conversation. Pausing before you answer a question makes you seem thoughtful and considered. Pausing after you make an important point gives it weight and allows it to sink in.

☆ Work on your articulation : u don't need to sound like a news anchor, but mumbling or slurring your words makes you seem less intelligent and less confident than you are. Practice speaking clearly especially with the endings of words.

Part 4: the art of elegant communication

Communication is where elegance really shines. Anyone can learn to stand up straight or speak clearly, but elegant communication comes from a deeper place of confidence, empathy, and social intelligence. This is what separates truly elegant people from those who are just going through the motions.

The Power of listening:

become an exceptional listener !!?!!!! . Most people are terrible listeners because they're too busy thinking about what they want to say next. But when you truly listen to someone not just hearing their words, but understanding their meaning and emotions u give them a gift that's increasingly rare.

☆ When someone is speaking to you, give them your full attention. Put your phone away, turn your body toward them, make appropriate eye contact, and focus completely on what they're saying. Don't interrupt, don't finish their sentences, and don't start formulating your response while they're still talking.

☆ Ask follow-up questions that show you were paying attention. If someone tells you about a job interview they had for ex , emember to ask about it the next time you see them. If they mention a hobby or interest, ask them what they love about it. These small acts of attention make people feel valued and important.

☆ Learn to read between the lines. Often, what people don't say is just as important as what they do say. Pay attention to body language, tone of voice, and emotional undertones. Someone might say they're "fine" but their body language suggests otherwise. Elegant people are attuned to these subtleties and respond appropriately.

Speaking with purpose and grace:

When you do speak, make it count. Elegant people don't talk just to fill silence or to hear themselves speak. They speak with intention and purpose.

☆ Think before you speak read it again . especially about important or sensitive topics. It's okay to pause and collect your thoughts before responding to a question or comment. This makes you seem thoughtful and considered, not slow or uncertain.

☆ Choose your words carefully. You don't need to use fancy vocabulary but be precise in your language. Say what you mean and mean what you say.

☆ When you need to disagree with someone, do it gracefully. Instead of saying "You're wrong" or "That's stupid," try something like "I see it differently" or "My experience has been different." You're not backing down from your position, but you're not attacking the other person either.

☆ Learn to give compliments that are genuine and specific. Instead of just saying "You look nice," try something like "That color really brings out your eyes" or "You always know how to put together the perfect outfit." Specific compliments show that you're really paying attention and they mean more to the recipient. And we are girrrls cmooooon

Handling difficult conversations:

This is where true elegance really shows itself how you handle conflict, criticism, and difficult situations. Anyone can be graceful when everything is going well, but elegant people maintain their composure even under pressure.

☆ When someone is being rude or aggressive toward you, your first instinct might be to match their energy or get defensive. But elegance means staying calm and responding from a place of strength, not reaction. Take a deep breath, pause, and then respond in a way that reflects your values, not their behavior.

☆ You can set boundaries without being mean about it. If someone is speaking to you disrespectfully, you can say something like "I'd like to continue this conversation, but I need you to speak to me respectfully" or "I don't appreciate being spoken to that way." You're standing up for yourself without stooping to their level.

☆ When you make a mistake or someone calls you out on something handle it with grace. Don't make excuses, don't blame others, and don't get defensive. Simply say "You're right, I made a mistake" or "I apologize, that wasn't appropriate." Then fix the problem and move on. People respect this kind of accountability.

☆ If someone is trying to provoke you or start drama don't take the baaaaait. You can acknowledge what they're saying without engaging with the drama. Something like "I can see you're upset" or "I understand you feel that way" shows that you heard them without agreeing to participate in the conflict. U will kll them ! That's what I do actually

Part 5: Your daily Habits and lifestyle

Elegance isn't something you turn on and off it's a way of being that's reflected in how you live your daily life. The small, everyday choices and habits you develop are what create that consistent, authentic elegance that people notice and admire.

Creating structure and intention in ur days:

Elegant people don't just drift through life they live with intention and purpose. This doesn't mean every moment has to be scheduled or that you can't be spontaneous that's a bad habit ! but it means having a sense of direction and making conscious choices about how you spend your time and energy.

☆ Start each day with some kind of intention-setting. This could be as simple as taking five minutes when you wake up to think about what you want to accomplish and how you want to show up in the world that day. What kind of energy do you want to bring to your interactions? What priorities do you want to focus on?

☆ Create routines that support the person you want to be. This might include a morning routine that helps you feel centered and prepared for the day, an evening routine that helps you wind down and reflect, or weekly routines that keep your life organized and on track it's up to u !

☆ Be intentional about how you spend your time. This doesn't mean you can't relax or have fun, but it means making conscious choices rather than just defaulting to whatever is easiest or most immediately gratifying. Ask yourself: Is this activity aligned with my values and goals? Is it contributing to the person I want to become?

Taking care of ur environment:

Your environment reflects and affects your inner state. Elegant people tend to keep their spaces clean, organized, and thoughtfully arranged because they understand that their surroundings impact their mood and mindset.

☆ Keep your living space tidy and organized. This doesn't mean it has to be perfect all the time, but it should be a space that feels calm and intentional rather than chaotic and cluttered. Make your bed every morning it's a simple act that sets a tone of care and attention for the day.

☆ Pay attention to details in your environment. Fresh flowers, clean sheets, good lighting, and pleasant scents all contribute to a sense of elegance and care. You don't need to spend a lot of money on this even just keeping your space clean and adding a few thoughtful touches can make a big difference.

☆ Be respectful of shared spaces and other people's belongings. Clean up after yourself, put things back where they belong, and treat other people's homes and belongings with care. This shows consideration and respect for others.

How u treat others in daily interactions:

Elegance shows up most clearly in how you treat people in everyday situations : the server at a restaurant, the cashier at the store, your classmates, your family members. These interactions reveal your true character.

☆ Treat everyone with the same basic level of respect and kindness, regardless of their position or what they can do for you. Say please and thank you consistently. Make eye contact and smile when appropriate. Remember that everyone you interact with is a human being deserving of dignity.

☆ Be punctual and reliable. If you say you're going to be somewhere at a certain time, be there. If you commit to doing something, follow through. If something comes up and you need to change plans, give people as much notice as possible. Ur word should mean something.

☆ Help others when you can without making a big show of it. Hold doors open, offer to carry heavy things, check in on friends who are going through difficult times. Do these things because it's the right thing to do, not because you want recognition or praise.

☆ Be gracious in receiving help and compliments. When someone does something nice for you, thank them genuinely. When someone compliments you, accept it gracefully instead of deflecting or putting yourself down. Like "no I'm not that pretty" wtf c'mon 💀💀

Managing ur energy and emotions:

Elegant people are skilled at managing their own energy and emotions so they can show up as their best selves consistently. This doesn't mean being fake or suppressing your feelings, but it means being responsible for your emotional state and its impact on others.

☆ Pay attention to what affects your mood and energy levels. Are there certain people, activities, or situations that consistently drain you or bring out the worst in you? While you can't always avoid these things, you can prepare for them and develop strategies for managing them.

☆ Develop healthy ways to process difficult emotions. This might include journaling, exercise, meditation, talking to a trusted friend, or creative expression. Find what works for you and use these tools regularly, not just when you're in crisis.

☆ Don't make your bad days everyone else's problem. It's okay to have off days : everyone does. But elegant people don't take their bad moods out on others or expect everyone around them to cater to their emotional state. If you're having a rough day, it's okay to say so, but take responsibility for managing your emotions.

☆ Create boundaries around your time and energy. You don't have to say yes to every request or invitation. It's okay to prioritize your own needs and well-being. In fact, taking good care of yourself enables u to show up better for others.

Part 6: The deeper aspects | grace under pressure and timeless wisdom

Handling criticism :

☆ Don't take things personally, even when they're meant personally. Most of the time, when someone is being rude or cruel, it says more about them and their inner state than it does about you. This understanding helps you respond with compassion rather than anger.

☆ Stand up for yourself and others without being aggressive or mean. You can be firm and clear about your boundaries while still treating others with respect. You can defend yourself or someone else without attacking the other person's character.

☆ Choose your battles wisely. Not every slight needs to be addressed, not every argument needs to be won. Sometimes the most elegant response is to simply not engage with negativity or drama as I said before

The ripple effect of true elegance:

☆ When you embody true elegance, it has a positive impact that extends far beyond yourself. You become someone who elevates the energy of every room you enter, who makes others feel better about themselves, who inspires others to be their best selves.

☆ You create a safe space for others to be authentic and vulnerable. When people are around someone who is genuinely elegant, they feel permission to let their guard down and be real because they trust that they won't be judged or attacked.

☆ You model what's possible In a world that often seems to reward the loudest, most dramatic, or most aggressive behavior, you show that there's another way to be powerful through grace, kindness, and quiet confidence.

☆ You contribute to a more civil and beautiful world. Every interaction you have with grace and kindness makes the world a little bit better. You're part of the solution to the coarseness and negativity that seems to be everywhere.

finally why this never goes out of style

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤElegance never goes out of style because it's based on timeless human values and qualities that people have always been drawn to and always will be. Trends come and go. Fashion changes. What's considered cool or popular shifts constantly. But kindness, grace, confidence, integrity, and the ability to make others feel valued these qualities have been attractive for thousands of years and will continue to be attractive for thousands more.

ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ꪆ୧ㅤWhen you develop true elegance, you're investing in something that will serve you for your entire life. It will help you in your relationships, your career, your personal growth, and your overall happiness. It's a gift you give yourself that keeps giving returns. And perhaps most importantly, true elegance is contagious. When you embody these qualities, you inspire others to do the same. You become part of raising the standard for how people treat each other and move through the world.

So commit to this journey. It's not always easy, and you won't be perfect at it, but it's absolutely worth it. Start where you are with what you have, and take it one day at a time. The world needs more truly elegant people and you can be one of them. Have a lucky Vicky daaay

@bloomzone

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

bakugo and reader meeting again after a long time like maybe katsu has been away on a mission and he just misses us so much 🥹

anon this is literally such an adorable request!! This has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time cus i could never rlly figure out what i wanted to do with this, but as soon as i got the inspo i got to it !! im so so sososuuupperr sorry for making you wait so long and if you’re still sticking around, I LUB YOU !! anyways, i tried honoring this lovely sweet request as best i could, if you’re reading, i truly hope you enjoy (and all of you ofc!!) <33

fem reader, jus pure fluffy fluff ! katsuki n reader watch selling sunsets bc my mom does lmfaoo this ones for you momma, kissing, biting (lol will i ever stop), lemme know if i missed sum else !

katsuki regrets planning this surprise.

it’s been one month. exactly 31 days since he’s last seen you. one month he had to survive off of late night phone calls and good morning messages.

katsuki had slowly but surely started climbing up the ranks as a hero ever since he’d gone independent and this mission was a huge steppingstone to victory.

except it involved him going abroad for a month.

you’d congratulated him when he’d told you. you hugged him hard and offered him your brightest sunshine smile, you’d made him dance around your little living room with you, celebrating his ‘rise to stardom’ as you’d called it and he remembers chuckling about it. you’d even gone out of your way and made his favorite to celebrate. but now katsuki understand you were probably doing that so as not to worry him.

he's known you for a long while and he knows you know he can tell when you’re lying, so he was sure you were happy for him. (you can’t fake anything from him and especially not the way you smile, he’s committed that to memory). and you truly looked happy for him, but he knows youwell enough to know that you were also devastated to find out he was leaving for so long. he’d seen the way your eyes widened and your shoulders dropped. but knowing you, you probably powered through it so as not to make him worry.

so stupid. you’re stupid. and he misses you so much.

despite you being in different time zones you make it work. he made sure to be updated daily and called you every time it was time for you to go to bed to make sure you got some well needed sleep and not staying up late mindlessly scrolling through your feed.

you send him pictures of everything happening throughout your day and you’d hound him about his, asking him if he’d eaten well and if he’d beat up any bad guys. and no matter how minuscule his actions were you’d always praise him. as somewhat childish as he knew it was katsuki still walked with his head up high for the rest of the day. if it was to impress you and make you proud, he’d be on the clock 24/7. but, knowing you, you’d get mad at him for overworking himself.

he misses you so much.

he’s on the plane. making his way back home to you a day before he’d told you he would be, his surprise. you’d been so excited, your squeals ringing through the phone, katsuki just couldn’t wipe the smile of his face and goddamnit he tried.

“ou, i can’t wait ! i missed you sooo much, katsu !” you chirped, he couldn’t wait to hear your voice in real life again instead of through his phone.

“yeah, missed you too sweets” he hums, packing up the last of his stuff.

“you better be ready cus when you get back, m’not gonna let you go for a whole month.” you tease, giggling. katsuki huffs out a laugh, looking down at his luggage ready to go as he’d fully finished packing up while you were on the phone.

“uhuh~?” he muses “better be ready for me when i get back. yer not goin’ anywhere either. no bathroom breaks when we're cuddling.”

“ew,” you snort “what am i supposed to do if i have to pee ?”

“that sounds like a you problem, sweetheart.”

you laugh and laugh and katsuki smiles, he couldn’t wait to be able to hear and see it again. expect not one phone call away, like he’d told you he always would be when you’d accompanied him to the airport all teary eyed, but in real life.

except now he’s starting to regret not just coming home on time.

don’t get him wrong, the sooner he gets to you the better. he’d meant it when he told you he wouldn’t let you go and as somewhat embarrassing as it is to him that he had gotten so clingy, being away from you for so long really did a number on him. distance makes the heart grow fonder his ass, he was more than fond of you when he was laying next to you every night instead of all alone in his hotel bed.

but right now he’s way too antsy. he wants to tell you about how he’ll be home soon to hear you squeal and giggle, but he sucks it up in favor of surprising you.

it’ll be worth it. at least that’s what he tried to convince himself when he finished packing up. and on his way to the airport. and on the plane..

who even thought of this stupid surprise idea anyway ?!

he can’t sit still. he has to stop himself from tapping his foot against the floor and shuffling around in his seat. the guy in front of him keeps reclining his seat back but it doesn’t bother him that much, because all he needs is to remember your smile and remember he’s coming home to you, and he feels his nerves settle. recliner-seat-guy be damned.

it’s pitch black by the time he’s off the plane and finally back home. when he checks his phone he sees it’s 2:09 am and you’re no doubt dead asleep by now, he smiles at his phone screen when he sees you smiling back at him.

his limbs suddenly feel heavier the higher the numbers show on the screen inside the elevator to his floor. his body buzzes with excitement but for some reason he can’t help feeling nervous. katsuki knows it’s stupid because you tell him every day how much you miss him and how excited you are to see him. all he wants right now is to see you.

he fumbles around a bit when he fits his keys into the door to walk into your tiny shared apartment and when he finally walks back inside, katsuki is reminded why he does this. why he’s been gone for exactly 31 days.

he kicks his shoes off quietly and sees yours left right by the door like they always are. like he always wants them to be. he wants to come home to your shoes by the door and to you smiling at him brightly and greeting him, or beckoning him over to the couch because you’ve been waiting all day to watch your favorite show with him. (he’s forbidden you from watching any episode of selling sunsets without him, the last time you did he got cranky at you for a good 2 hours.)

katsuki sneaks over to your room, socked feet padding over to the door quietly cracking it open. he’d managed to convince you to move in with him a few months ago, claiming it’d lower costs and yapping about how you practically lived here anyway. it was barely anything to get used to, it felt natural, like this was everything his life was leading up to. but he wants to give you everything you deserve and this cramped little apartment is definitely not it.

he wants to give you a cosy little house, or a penthouse or even a fucking mansion if that was what you wanted, as long as he could be there with you he didn’t care. he’d do whatever he could to get you everything you dreamed of at the flick of a wrist. and that’s why, as annoying and lonely as it was to be without you for so long, he’d pushed through.

katsuki needs to save people, and he wants to. but everything he does, he does with you in a little corner of his mind.

you’re fast asleep like he’d expected, katsuki huffs out a laugh, brushing at your cheek with his finger. his heart almost explodes when you try to lean into the faint touch and he can’t help it anymore. he sits down by your side and kisses your cheek. once, two times, three times and a little one on your nose. if he wasn’t feeling all mushy he’d be an asshole and bite you, but you look so cute he’ll put that off for now.

your nose scrunches up and your eyebrows furrow at the wet kiss onto your skin, you instinctively go to rub at your face with a whine, katsuki chuckles to himself when you open your eyes and the lack of distance between you both meaning your quite literally face to face with him.

“katsu..?” you mumble sleepily “ ‘m i dreamin’ ?”

katsuki chuckles, eyes soft “glad to know ya dream about me, but nah, this isn't a dream.”

you blink sleepily, and katsuki recognize those bright eyes he so loves gleaming the more you wake up “katsuki !” you squeal, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him straight against your collarbone, since he was practically nose to nose with you before he knocks against your chin but you both don’t care.

katsuki crawls into bed and wraps his arms around you tightly, snickering into your neck and you into his hair. you squeeze and squeeze him so hard he thinks you’ll suffocate him but he couldn’t care less, squeezing you like he’s trying to mold you to him.

you breathe him in and he flips you both over with you giggling uncontrollably. you topple over and land straight into his chest. you lift your head up with stars in your eyes like he’d hung up the moon for you and katsuki smirks back softly. because he would. he’d hang up the moon and the stars and more.

all for you.

“you’re back !” you chirp, kissing all over his face. katsuki feels his cheeks hurt, this is the hardest and longest he’d smiled in a month.

“how’d you figure that one out ?” you roll your eyes at his sarcastic remark, blowing lip bubbles against his cheeks as punishment. he playfully pushes your face away from him and you laugh.

“i thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow..” you quickly reach over to your nightstand to check your phone then throw it back down.

“it is tomorrow.” katsuki quips, already getting back to being a smart ass, you roll your eyes but you can’t wipe off the happy look on your face.

“you know what i mean, asshole” you jokingly narrow your eyes at his smug face and press a finger against his cheek “later tomorrow i mean. was gonna surprise you and you….out-surprised, me” you pout at your ruined plans.

he turns his face so he can sink his teeth into your pointer finger and you quietly squeal in disapproval, he smirks “was gonna, but couldn’t wait anymore. needed to see you.” he pulls you closer to run his nose against your pulse point “felt like i was gonna go fucking crazy if i stayed with those other bastards for a second longer.”

you giggle, placing your hands against his shoulders as he kisses up and down your shoulder and neck haphazardly “ don’t be mean.” you scold.

he lifts his head up to raise a brow at you, hands running up and down your sides “you mean to tell me you wanted me to stay away? didn’t miss me ?” he jokes, squeezing your hips harshly.

“of course i did. missed you so much i felt my heart would tear up sometimes..” you smiles sadly, running your fingers through his blond strands, he frowns "but i'm glad you're back now."

"yeah, and m'not leaving again for a damn long while." he squeezes you so hard he lifts you up in his lap a little bit and a surprised noise leak out of you. he lifts his head up from your chest to smirk at you in challenge "you're gonna have to get used to me and my big mouth all over again."

your heart squeezes, you feel like it'll bursts from happiness and katsuki wonders if he' supposed to feel this happy, if it's okay to be this content with one person. but only for a moment, because he's greedy, so so greedy for you. and he doesn't care if it's wrong because he gets to make you happy, to make you smile and laugh, to have you.

and katsuki does everything for you, so he gives himself to you without a second thought.

you hum, placing your hands against his soft cheeks to press your lips to his "got a month worth of your big mouth i need to catch up on." you whisper before finally closing the distance. you both immediately sigh in relief at the contact, being able to feel each other like this again. you smile into the kiss and katsuki thinks he's never felt more at peace.

after a month, exactly 31 days, katsuki's finally back.

bonus :

"hey." katsuki ask, you snuggle into his side and hum.

"did you watch any episodes of selling sunsets without me ?"

you stiffen.

"n-noooo..." the sheets shuffle and crinkle when katsuki looks down at you. you shrink into yourself.

"maybe one or two.." you squeak out meekly. immediately he's flipping you over and pouncing on you.

"fuckin' traitor." he growls.

"i'm sorry i couldn't help myself !" you wheeze when he starts tickling your sides, kicking at the sheets "it's been a month !" you screech trying to catch your breath.

"yeah i know that !" he exclaims, ignoring the way you're thrashing around as he mercilessly tickles you.

"i'm soooorryy !!"

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Hi! congrats for 700 followers!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 i love your fics and one shots <3

following the game… can i suggest Navy (ofc) Rabbit and if possible starfish too 🥺🥺🥺

Thank you 🫶🏼

HI SORRY THIS TOOK A BILLION YEARS BUT GUESS WHAT IT'S DONE NOW :) thank you for your patience sweet friend

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Female Reader

Trope/Prompt: Friends to Lovers x Body Worship

Summary: Law finds out you've never had an orgasm. A doctor treats a patients ailments. You get the idea. MINORS DNI

WC: 3100 hehe

TWs: inexperienced reader, alcohol consuption, fingering, oral sex f receiving, power dynamic kinda, smooth talking Law, body worship and praise, pet names, ugh it's porn.

Climax (+18)

——

Sure, the Heart Pirates weren’t the scariest or the biggest or the baddest pirate crew out there… but they were still pirates at the end of the day. The Heart Pirates could drink. Although Law himself didn’t indulge in as many rowdy evenings as the other members of his crew, he still enjoyed socializing with them. They were his crew, after all. 

This particular evening, Law found himself bored of his work and decided to venture out from his office and into the common areas of the ship. Law shuffled tiredly towards the sound of glasses clinking and slurred voices talking over each other. He almost decides to turn back to his bedroom and try to get some shut eye. His back ached, the twinge in his muscles pleading with him to go to sleep, but he hears something else. Your lilted giggle floats through the metal halls of the submarine and straight into his ears. He wanted to at least see you before he went to bed… something sweet to think about as he fell asleep… 

“Yeah, okay well you’re stupid, so.” You sip from your freshly cracked beer and roll your eyes at Shachi. 

“Wow! What a good insult, y/n! You’re so fucking creative!” Shachi jeers at you with a big fake smile on his face. “I set you up, and you lost! You have to finish your drink, I don’t care that you just opened a new one!” 

“Unless you want me to barf on your cards, probably not.” You chuckle. 

“And I have seen her throw up. It is NOT cute.” Ikkaku pipes up. Ikkaku leans in and whispers purposefully loudly to Penguin. “Shes a scream-puker.”

“Okay so, I am not a scream-puker!” You defend yourself. 

“Yeah, you are.”

Your head whips around towards the galley door. Law stands there leaning against the frame, looking exhausted, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. 

“Last time you had the flu I thought we were under attack and sounded the Tang’s defensive alarm.” Law says as he smirks at you. 

You pout and turn back to the table. 

“Okay that one time… and I was really sick, you know!” You huff. 

“Room for one more?” Law grabs a beer out of the fridge and sits down at the dining table without waiting for a response. 

“Of course, Captain!” Ikkaku chimes in. “We were just telling Shachi he has to finally tell that girl from the last island to stop calling him.” 

“She’s sooooo hot though! And she’s totally into me!” Shachi pleads his case. 

“We will never see her again!” You interject. 

“So? She doesn’t know that! And besides, the phone sex is better than nothing-” 

“You’re having phone sex? Here? On my ship?” Law immediately butts in and cocks his head in confusion. 

“… is that? Is that not cool? Did we have a rule about that or something?” Shachi questions. 

“No.. it’s just vile, Shachi.” Law shakes his head. 

“Hah! He thinks you’re fuckin’ gross!” Ikkaku points and laughs directly at Shachi who was making quite the face. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh whatever, I’ve been getting the best sleep of my life thanks to this! I’m like, almost twice as productive as I normally am!” He tries to build his case back up. 

“Why?” You ask, curious what those things had to do with each other. 

“What do you mean? Everyone knows how great the sleep is after you finish, am I wrong?” 

“You are correct there.” Penguin adds, sipping his beer. Ikkaku hums in agreement.

“Hah, okay. Wouldn’t know.” You add softly, secretly hoping no one would hear you. 

“What?” Ikkaku turns to you and asks. 

“Nothing it’s just that I… wouldn’t…? Know..?” Really pleading with your eyes for her to read between the lines and you wouldn’t have to say it out loud yourself. 

“Wait okay… you’ve never… had an orgasm?” Ikkaku’s eyes widen. 

“Correct.” You take a deep breath. “At least I don’t think I have.” You feign a laugh. 

“Oh you’d KNOW.” Shachi affirms from across the table, also staring at you with a bewildered expression. “Woah… that’s crazy. Are you a virgin or something?” He continues. 

“No!” You defend yourself. “The guys I’ve been with just suck, apparently. Can we stop talking about this?” You knit your eyebrows together and rub your eyes. 

“No way this is fascinating. How old are you? Twenty five? And you’ve never had an orgasm? Like never once? Even by yourself?” Ikkaku probes further. 

“Oooookay guys I never miss a good time to shut the fuck up, so I am going to head to bed!” You stand up from the table and straighten out your boiler suit. You were met with pleas and apologies from your crew mates, while your captain remained stoic during the entire exchange. You felt his eyes burning a hole through you as you left the galley. 

You swiftly make your way through the metal corridors of the ship towards your stateroom. You weren’t upset at your crew mates, it really was fascinating how you had made it this long in your life without feeling the peak of physical pleasure. It wasn’t for lack of trying, you had tried several times to pleasure yourself… and taken a small handful of lovers, none of whom could make you cum. 

You slip off your boiler suit and let it fall to the floor in an off-white heap. You pick out some grey pajamas, a thin camisole and matching shorts, throw it on and sit on your bed to brush out your hair. You untie your hair from the thick bun on your head and let it cascade down your bare shoulders. 

You had almost finished brushing our your locks when you notice the room has somehow changed… as if in the blink of an eye everything was sheathed in a faint blue glow. A familiar blue… 

“Wait no!” You could barely yelp out before you ass meets a different surface in an instant. “Ah!” You gasp and open your eyes to see that you’re no longer in your own bed, but in Law’s. You blink rapidly for a few moments to try and regain your surroundings. You catch your breath. 

You look up and see Law standing at the edge of his bed, looking at you with his shirt unbuttoned. Did he already have it unbuttoned when you were drinking… or did he take it off since then…? 

“Gods, Law.” You sigh and shake your head. “You can’t keep doing that to people. You could have just called my snail or something.” 

“Heard Shachi’s been keeping the line busy tonight.” Law looks down at your barely covered form on his bed. You push your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. He smirks. “So… is it true?” Law walks slowly around to the side of the bed, eyes never leaving yours. He was like an animal stalking its prey. 

“T-the orgasm thing?! T-thats what you brought me here to talk about?!” You could feel your cheeks flush bright red. You sink your head further behind your legs. “I-it’s really not a big deal…” You turn your eyes down to avoid his gaze. 

“You know, the human orgasm is really just a tool.” Law continues eyeing your body and ignoring what you had just said. “The reason it feels so good goes back to our earliest days of evolution. All living organisms, even plants, exist with one similar purpose in common. Do you know what that is, y/n?”

You pick your head up a bit from behind your knees. 

“T-to… n-not get eaten by a larger thing?” You sputter out.

“Reproduction.” Law answers his own question. “Every creature is designed with a primal need to create more of itself…” He paces towards his nightstand and back before taking his massive sword off his back and setting it against the bedpost. “The male orgasm is necessary for human reproduction, obviously. But the female orgasm…” He trails off and you look up and lock eyes. “Is it a bit more complicated…” 

“O-okay?”

“Some professionals say the spasming of the female reproductive organs during orgasm allows for easier penetration through the cervix for the ejaculate to pass through… and some say the female orgasm doesn’t even exist at all…” 

“Are you seriously doctor-ing me about this?!?” You finally find your voice a bit stronger in your throat. “I’ve lived this long without it and-“

“I however, y/n, don’t care what the purpose of it is. And I do know it exists. And I plan on giving you at least one this evening.” Law says as he sheds his button down off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Tattoos on full display, his chiseled abdominal muscles right at your eye level paired with the topic of conversation made you press your legs together even harder. 

“C-captain that is highly unnecessary and unprof-“ You try to protest shakily. 

“Nonsense.” Law steps so his thighs are against the edge of the bed. His right hand comes up to drag two fingers up your calf and rest his palm on your knee. He rubbed soft circles onto your knee with his thumb. “Now if you’re done being so stubborn, we can get started.” 

You leaned back on your elbows and blinked up at the man standing before you, your captain. You couldn’t believe this was really happening, but you were too stunned to question it. You trusted him with your life and more, why not let him try and help you?

“Alright.” You say softly, more to yourself than to Law. 

“Good. Now take your clothes off.” 

You cock your head back in surprise and your eyes widen. 

“Getting straight to it I guess…” You chuckle nervously. 

“We can go slower, if you’d like?” Law takes his hand off your leg, a genuine look of care in his grey eyes. 

“No no! I-it’s fine! I just didn’t, you know… like… well I wasn’t really planning for anyone to see me naked tonight is all!” You say awkwardly. 

“The only thing I care about tonight is pleasuring you. Will you let me?”

You don’t say anything in response, but you lift your thin grey camisole over your head and throw it to the floor. You didn’t look up to see Law’s response, you just shimmied your shorts down your legs and resumed your position laying on Law’s bed. 

Fully bare in front of your captain, you could feel your cheeks become hotter than they’ve ever been. 

“So what should-“ You begin.

“Fucking gorgeous.” Law interrupts. 

“S-sorry?” You question. 

“You are so fucking hot. So pretty.” Law was no longer staring into your eyes, but raking his gaze all over your naked body. “Spread your legs for me, yah?” Law asks, a bit more pleading than his normal demanding tone. It was like something shifted in him once you had taken your clothes off. He returns his hand to your knee, bringing his other hand as well this time to gently push your legs open to expose your sex to him. You hear him suck in a breath. 

Suddenly, Law pounces on you. You’re knocked back on the bed further and your head hits the mattress. Law chuckles playfully above you as he supports himself on his hands, black shaggy hair falling towards your face. 

“Hi.” He grins down at you. 

“H-hi..” You manage to smile back. Law leans down further and begins placing wet kisses along your neck, craning your head to the side almost involuntarily.  “O-oh okay.. t-that’s fine… AH!” You feel a cold hand pinch your left nipple.  

“So sensitive… this is going to be easy..” You feel Law’s mouth curve into a smile as he litters more kisses on you, this time across your collarbone. He moves his head lower and captures your right nipple in his soft lips and sucks gently. You let out a long sigh and throw your head back against the mattress further. Quiet gasps left your mouth as he worked your chest in his hands and tongue. 

Without fully realizing that Law’s hand had left your breast, you feel it cup your mound firmly without warning. You try to close your legs instinctively at the sudden contact. 

“Ah ah, no y/n. You’ve been hiding this pretty thing from me for too long.” Law says as he pulls back from your chest. He pressed his fingers against the top of your slit and started rubbing it in circles. “I promise it’ll feel so good.”  

Law leans up and places a gentle kiss on your parted mouth, you were too dazed to kiss him back just yet. He pulls away and settles himself on the floor on his knees in front of where you were laying. Strong arms hook under your knees and drag you swiftly so that your legs were hanging off the bed and your sex was mere inches from his hungry gaze and spit-slicked lips. 

“Even more fucking beautiful than I’d imagined…” Law says as he spreads your pussy with his thumb and forefinger, exposing your throbbing clit and dripping hole to him. “So eager and ready for me…” 

“Wait you imagi- SHIT!” You cry out as you feel Law’s hot tongue lap at your clit. It was so good, so thoughtful, so precise… he knew exactly what he was doing. “Oh my god-“ You had never received better head and he was only just getting started… maybe he was going to fulfill his promise. He alternative between suckling at your sensitive pearl and taking wide swaths over your whole sex with his entire mouth, as if he was trying to drink up every last drop your pussy was offering him. 

“So sweet…” You could barely understand what Law was muttering about, he was so drunk off your essence that all you could really hear was pained moans and groans of “mmhmmpph” as he enjoyed your taste. Your back was arching off the bed and you grabbed at Law’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you as you wanted to make sure he kept going. 

You moaned loudly as he slipped two fingers into your eager hole. He distracted you with harsh sucks to your clit as he crooked his fingers upwards inside of you. 

“Wait fuck!” You cry out, feeling a foreign sensation as Law pulled on that spot inside your walls. 

“Yeah there it is baby… there it is right there… let it happen…” Law cooed into your wetness as he continued to hammer into your sweet spot with his two fingers. He resumed his ministrations on your clit. 

“Law! I can’t!” You gasp as that warmth and pressure in your lower half grew stronger and tighter. 

“You can… get out of that pretty little head of yours, babe. Stop thinking and just let it go…” 

You try to center yourself and clear your mind, eliminating all thoughts except for the feeling of Law’s hands and mouth on you. It wasn’t hard to do, his presence took over your every sense entirely… the heady smell of his cedar cologne, the absolute determined and lust-filled look in his eyes that were peeking up at you from between your legs, and the overwhelming feeling of his mouth lapping up your juices with fervor. 

“I-I think… ah! Fuck!” Your shoulders lurch forward on their own, your walls starting to tighten sporadically around Law’s thick fingers. 

“You’re so close, pretty girl… just a little more… squeeze those tits for me, yah?” Law asks before returning his mouth to your throbbing nub. 

You do as you’re told and you wrap your manicured hands around your own breasts. You pull desperately at your nipples and cry out from the intense pleasure. 

“Law!” You moan your captain’s name as tears prick the corners of your eyes from the sensation. 

“Cum.” Law growls.

With a strangled scream, everything in your body released and your breath caught in your throat. Euphoric waves pulsed from your sex outwards and you felt the tears fall freely from your lash line as your legs shook. Your scream turned into a moan, and then fell into a whine as you suddenly felt too sensitive to have Law’s touch on you and you squirmed away. 

You caught your breath after what could have been 30 seconds or 5 minutes and take a look between your legs. Law stared up at you, face and bangs soaked in some sort of liquid… your liquid… and a stupid grin plastered across his face. 

“Holy fuck, I’m sorry I-“ You stutter out through heaving breaths. 

“Don’t.” Law stops you. “Don’t apologize. That was so fucking hot. Didn’t peg you for a squirter. Nice.” He rubs his hands on your thighs as he stands up. Your face flushes impossibly redder. “How do you feel?” Law asks. 

“I…” You flop your head back onto Law’s bed. “I feel like I got hit by a sea train but also incredibly light? My legs feel like pudding.” You sit back up on your elbows. “Law… captain… That was amazing…” You smile up at him. 

“Good.” Law looks down at the mess you’ve made between your legs and on his comforter. He looks down at his chest and sees even more remnants of your release. 

“How about we get cleaned up before bed and I can show you a few more things, yah? You’re staying with me tonight.” Law offers you a hand and you stand up on shaky legs to follow him to the bathroom. 

“Hmmm maybe this time it can be your turn?” You glance down at Law’s obvious bulge straining against his spotted jeans. “I owe you one, right?” You smirk. 

— —

>:)

[tojiscrack]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

summary: 11.4k words — you spend some time at megumi and yuji’s open game, but spend some more time with someone else there

notes: i was overwhelmed with the amount of asks, messages, comments, and dm’s the last chapter provoked! (in a good way ofc, i loved it 😭). now i’m just curious — a lot of you (as predicted) hated the events of last chapter. you’re definitely not gonna enjoy this one :) anyway, it’s 1hr past the 22nd of dec, and i intended to get this out for megumi’s birthday, so pretend i did. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR GRUMPY PORCUPINE! <3

tw: shouting, BELLOWING, yelling, whatever other words you might use for that lol, and blood, criminals, and gangs

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

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"the raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of duncan under my battlements ... come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts!"

the stage lights cast a soft glow, illuminating you as you delivered your lines with striking conviction. it wasn't a performance for a packed auditorium, but a rehearsal for your extracurricular theatre club.

the room was mostly empty, save for a few of your peers and your director, yet megumi could feel the atmosphere buzzing with quiet focus. your voice filled the space, and he silently appreciated how you could throw yourself into a character so conniving like lady macbeth and then jump right into being your bubbly self once again, as though you hadn't just emasculated poor macbeth trembling on the other side of the stage.

not that he'd ever tell you that. the most you'd get is a pat on the head, and even that seemed to be a bit much for megumi.

the lack of an audience didn't matter to you, it seemed; you poured your entire heart into the scene, as if the world were watching.

but it was easy to remind himself of the fact that it was a rehearsal and not a real performance, for every time you reached that exact line, you'd let out a snort and turn away with the same maturity as a child. megumi became more and more unimpressed each time it happened.

"y/n," the director called out, her voice made ten times louder from the echo of the megaphone.

you nodded, but still failed to wipe that grin off your face.

"i got it," you assured her, and megumi had almost missed what you'd said when the loud movement of the seats from somewhere in the backrow had sounded for the nth time. you schooled your face with an expression of determination, but megumi could see the underlying hint of amusement, clear as day. "unsex me here! and fill me from the —"

you'd cut yourself off with your laughter, the sound of it only resulting in more groans from your peers backstage, but megumi only watched you with a raised brow, mentally cursing whoever was making that stupid chair noise from the backrow — your laughter had been drowned out by it.

"i can't do it," you chortled, using the pages of your script to hide your face. "i can't do it!"

the director's sigh echoed around the hall.

"right, adjust the flower crown 'cause it's sitting on the edge of your head, and let's do act five, scene one."

megumi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he observed the stage's organised chaos. you and your peers bustled about, setting up for the transition to the next scene.

the props crew adjusted the minimalistic set pieces while one of your friends struggled to untangle a misplaced curtain cord. you briefly stepped offstage, laughing with another castmate as they adjusted your flower crown to sit properly atop your head.

as the lights dimmed slightly in preparation, megumi looked up again, his patience steady, fully expecting to see you dive back into the character of lady macbeth without skipping a beat.

and you had — straight away.

you were now at the centre of the stage once more, standing by a fake sink — a prop — your arms extended before you, one hand holding your script, the other with fingers curled towards yourself.

"out, damned spot!" you began, voice striking. "out, i say!"

there was a pause, and megumi half believed that you had forgotten the rest of your lines (even though you were reading out of a paper script held in your hand) but then you looked up, apparently going to improv.

"out, damned fricking spot! get out of here! you damned — damned spot, get away and just — just go and leave and why don't you just leave —"

"y/n," the director called out your name, tone firm and scolding. "stick to the scri— oh for god's —"

you laughed loudly, shaking your head and standing still, your hands back at your side.

"'kay i'm sorry," you sighed, and megumi could tell that you were genuine, but he knew the director couldn't. from his seat in the audience, the director's eyes had narrowed, her megaphone now at her side as she raised a brow at you, the lines on her forehead prominent as ever.

"i'll start again," you told her, and megumi had to strain to catch that, for the stupid chair noise had echoed around the hall again.

you had lifted your script and began hurriedly rereading your lines, but when your eyes had lifted and skimmed the hall, passing megumi's, he frowned when you stumbled, almost looking as though you had attempted to retreat in fear.

"what just happened?" the director's voice called out through the megaphone again.

you furrowed your brows and squinted your eyes. megumi held back a scowl. what the hell were you up to now?

you eventually answered the question, but only after you'd become comfortable at the centre of the stage again, nodding to yourself with a smile.

"ah, sorry," you said, meeting her stern gaze sheepishly. "the outline of megumi's head just scared me for a second —"

the scowl that he'd been trying his hardest to hold back had been released, and it only deepened at the sound of the people backstage — your foolish classmates — laughing along.

there was nothing funny about that, and if he chose to tell all of them about your mermaid fiasco several years ago, you wouldn't find it funny then.

he sunk in his seat, throwing you a glare you probably couldn't see very well seeing as the rest of the auditorium was dark; the only lights being shun were the ones on the stage.

"if she wasn't my best lead, i would've kicked her out by now," the director whispered, only, it had been (accidentally) spoken with the megaphone on.

she quickly turned it off, but it had been too late: you'd already heard it.

your lips parted slightly, eyebrows raised in mild offense, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed a certain smugness. you glanced briefly at the director with mock indignation, a hand coming to rest on your hip as if you were about to deliver a snarky comeback, but instead, you simply shook your head and turned back to your script, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

megumi watched this unfold, his expression still maintaining that bitter scowl.

while the comment seemed to have both bruised and inflated your ego, he wasn't surprised. you'd always had this uncanny ability to balance between taking yourself seriously and not at all. best lead, he thought dryly, watching with half lidded eyes as you delivered your next few lines correctly. if only she knew how many times he'd seen you trip over thin air or forget half your lines in the name of a 'creative process'. still, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that, onstage, you were captivating — even if it happened to be for the wrong reasons half the time.

as the rehearsal wound down, you and your peers began packing up on stage. megumi used his phone to check the time.

it was time to go home.

scripts were gathered and props carefully returned to their designated spots by the crew. the faint creak of the stageboards accompanied the bustle, with one of your classmates complaining about how she couldn't find her missing pencil while another laughed at something whispered behind the curtains.

you slipped off your flower crown, adjusting it absentmindedly before tossing it onto a nearby prop table, and joined the group tidying up. the director had long since stopped barking orders and now stood by the edge of the stage, chatting with one of the seniors about next week's rehearsal schedule.

megumi stood from his seat with a quiet sigh, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards the backstage area, but not without stopping to throw the annoying person at the back row with the noisy chair a glance.

the person was now standing, but the automatic chair had slammed itself shut, allowing that loud noise to carry itself around the hall.

megumi had made his way towards the wall by the side curtain, his nose scrunched at the person — their silhouette showing that it was a guy around the same height as himself.

he had left the hall abruptly as megumi leaned against the wall, waiting for you to finish up, his gaze idly tracking your movements.

you turned around and jumped.

"ah, porcupine!" you gasped, unclipping your bracelets absentmindedly. "you need to announce your arrival, you scared m—"

"shut up, mermaid," he snapped, his patience running thin.

your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, eyes narrowing as you straightened your posture and clenched your jaw, willing yourself to keep your composure, though the sharpness in your movements — tossing your bracelets into the props table with more force than necessary —betrayed your irritation.

"i'm gonna call security on you," you threatened him, the corner of your mouth twitching as if you were fighting the urge to scowl outright, but instead, you busied yourself with adjusting your hair. the flower crown had messed the top of it.

"why are you tapping your head like that?" he questioned, not even entertaining the empty threat you'd shot at him.

"'cause if i'm not careful, i'll end up looking like a punk," you answered, before intentionally eyeing his dishevelled, fluffy hair. you met his sharpened gaze with a look of faux remorse. "yikes."

there was a glint of something dangerous in his eyes as he watched you try to unclip the necklace hanging delicately on your collarbone — a warning, sharp and unspoken, that clearly said: watch it.

"turn around," he grumbled, when it became apparent that it was going to take a while for you to finally manage taking the ugly necklace off.

you complied without much protest. however, that didn't mean that you did so silently:

"could be nicer about i— ow, porcupine! it's got my hair, it's got my hair!"

"stop moving," megumi demanded, messily throwing your hair over your shoulder to your front. he grunted under his breath when you continued to struggle against him. "squirming like a mermaid —"

your reaction was immediate, bristling with indignation as your head snapped around to glare at him, though the position made it awkward. if he wasn't fiddling with the clasp at the base of your neck, you might've been tempted to swat at his hands, but instead, you turned your focus forward, muttering something unintelligible under your breath that was undoubtedly not complimentary.

you flinched when he had finally managed to successfully unclip the necklace, but only when it continued to tug at the hairs at the back of your neck.

"porcupine — ow! oh my g— stop!" you complained, your eyes watering and knees bending as megumi tugged at the necklace again.

"how else am i supposed to take it off?" he shot back, grumpy.

"i'mgonnaendupinahospitalbedlikeallthoseyearsagoandnearlydie—"

"you never nearly died," said megumi, emphasising his point by cruelly pulling the necklace down again. you had stumbled back into him, but he remained stagnant where he stood, brows furrowed in both annoyance and deep concentration. "don't be stupid."

"ouch! you're doing it on purpose now, you — porcu—"

"right, who is porcupine?" the director's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and demanding attention.

the two of you looked up abruptly: she was standing before you, arms raised (and brows furrowed) in confusion.

deadpanned, you shot megumi a quick glance before addressing her.

"... is it really that hard to guess, looking between the two of us?"

at that, megumi had harshly pulled the necklace, taking some of your hair with it.

you squeaked, your hand immediately going up to ease the pain as you spun around and stared at his hand, the necklace holding bits of your hair cut fresh from the top of your neck.

"..."

"..."

"... okay, what is going on here?" the director asked, her eyes following the prop as megumi casually threw it over your head and onto the table behind you.

megumi barely had time to blink after that before you lunged at him, your hands diving into his hair with startling precision.

you yanked back with just enough force to rip out a few strands, his grunt of annoyance and pain echoing around the hall as the director stood frozen, her expression caught somewhere between bewildered disbelief and an exasperated sigh, as though contemplating whether this entire exchange was even worth addressing.

"right, y/n —"

"now we're even!" you snapped, as though the woman beside you hadn't spoken at all. you presented the dark hairs to megumi, and then purposefully made him watch as you slowly pocketed them, taking your sweet time and relishing in the crease between his brows that continued to deepen the longer you drew it out.

"you're a weirdo," he stated icily, but you turned away, paying him no mind.

"keep talking and i'm gonna get nobara's voodoo doll."

the two of you exited the auditorium together, the air practically vibrating with the quiet reluctance of megumi's brooding presence beside you.

he strode with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, meanwhile, you walked with an air of triumph, your fingers slipping into your own pocket every so often to toy with the strands of his hair, a small grin tugging at your lips every time you caught the subtle crackle of his growing irritation.

he deserved it.

"what did you think of rehearsal?" you asked him curiously. "lady macbeth's lines are so funny —"

"they're not funny," megumi disagreed bluntly. he sounded genuine. "you're just immature."

you showed him the strands of his hair that you'd passionately held onto in your pocket.

"say that again," you challenged, brows raised.

he merely swatted your wrist away with a scowl; you pocketed his hair with a shrug.

"as i was saying," you continued, as the two of you exited the school, "the macbeth play isn't gonna have a proper audience anyway, so i'm not too fussed about perfecting lady macbeth's lines. it's gonna be recorded tho! what did you think of it so far?"

megumi narrowed his eyes, the sun peeking out from over the clouds bright enough to blind him momentarily.

"couldn't even hear anything 'cause of the idiot sitting at the back," he told you with a scowl.

you laughed, brows raised in intrigue.

"yeah, they've been here for the past week or so," you informed your friend, chuckling at his sour expression.

"why don't you kick him out?"

"if we were to kick out every single disturbance, you would be sitting outside every day, porcupine."

"i'm not a disturbance."

"your hair is though."

"shut up."

as you neared the bike rack, you spotted yuji and nobara waiting for the two of you by their respective bikes.

yuji's was unmistakably bright — an electric blue frame with neon green accents that megumi thought perfectly screamed his excitable personality, complete with a flashy bell he had been spinning absentmindedly. nobara's, in contrast, was a sleek, matte-black with a subtle crimson stripe running along the frame. as the two of them looked up at your approach, yuji tilted his head with a toothy grin, arm raised in the air, already waving.

megumi believed that your bike stood out against the others, its pastel yellow frame and front basket adorned with a bunch of small, faux daisies that gave it a cheerful, almost whimsical vibe.

he approached his own as the three of you jumped into conversation with one another.

megumi's bike, dark navy and utterly plain, had been parked beside yours — you never failed to remind him how it looked like a sullen counterpart. he didn't care: it was his bike after all, not yours.

"my parents are working late again," yuji added brightly. he was sitting on his bike, waiting for the rest of you to clip on your helmets and do the same. "grandpa's home, and choso's at his place, so we basically have the house to ourselves tonight."

you silently nodded, hanging your bag on the right handlebar.

megumi scowled at nobara, who had seated herself on her bike, discarding her phone in her bag and zipping it up without another word.

"put your helmet on," he demanded her.

she looked up at him with a stony expression, her lips set in a straight line and brows furrowed as though to say 'are you talking to me?'.

"i'm having a bad hair day today —"

yuji frowned, looking bewildered:

"— but your hair looks nice —"

"shut up," snapped nobara, continuing as though you had not laughed loudly at the falter in yuji's bemused smile. you swerved away from his leg when he extended it to kick at your bike. "i'm not gonna make it worse by putting on that helmet."

megumi did not look impressed by her answer, throwing one of his legs over his bike to sit down and unclip his own helmet, glaring at her all the while.

"you're turning into the mermaid —"

"what the hell?" you demanded angrily, gesturing to your own helmet, which was conveniently sitting on your head. "i'm wearing mine!"

megumi's face tightened, jaw tensed as though he were biting back a sharp retort. one hand gripped the handlebar of his bike firmly, while the other toyed with the edge of his helmet, spinning it idly in a way that betrayed his rising frustration.

"i know why you're hesitating to wear yours," you shot back, offended by his jab at you, unprovoked. "it'll flatten down your sea-urchin hair and make you look like your dad —"

"watch it," he warned you icily, a short, clipped exhale leaving his nose as he glanced between you and nobara, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation, like he'd just resigned to a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place.

the sky stretched above in a pale canvas of soft blues and muted golds, the sun dipping lazily towards the horizon, its warm light spilling across the school front in delicate, golden hues. the four of you had mounted your bikes and had already begun cycling down the road, away from the busy bus route yuji would usually take and down the quiet neighbourhood, away from the loud traffic lights.

wisps of cotton-like clouds floated idly, their edges tinged with blush and amber as the day prepared to give way to the evening the longer the four of you bickered and laughed, simultaneously being wary of the occasional car that would pass by every now and then. the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the crisp, earthy scent of early autumn. your shadows stretched long across the crosswalk, mingling with the sporadic glint of sunlight reflecting off the polished metal frames of your bikes.

"grandpa went to the store the other day," yuji loudly spoke. he was riding his bike beside you while megumi and nobara cycled just ahead. "he bought a bunch of new films for us! we can watch the nun tonight!"

"is it wise to watch a horror movie at your place?" nobara called out, her hair a lighter shade where the sun hit it.

yuji looked bewildered at her question. "but we always watch horror movies at my place..."

"no, she's right!" you added, eyes wide. "what if we accidentally trigger the s word somehow?"

yuji's expression shifted almost comically as the realisation dawned on him, his brows furrowing in confusion before lifting in sudden clarity. he sat upright on his bike, one hand tightening on the handlebars as if steadying himself, while his other hand shot up to nervously scratch the back of his head.

"oi, use both hands," megumi demanded from up front.

yuji silently complied, though his eyes remained glued on you.

"sukuna won't —"

"don't say his name," you hissed, brows furrowed in both anger and panic.

yuji's wide-eyed expression stayed constant as the conversation continued.

"wait, it should be fine, guys," nobara had intervened, one hand holding onto her bike while the other extended itself towards the brooding, dark-haired male cycling beside her. "we have megumi — he's great at protecting us!"

megumi shot her a sharp look as he swatted her hand away. apparently, he did not agree with this idea.

"remember when he pushed su—"

"nobara!"

"— the s word away from us when he said he'd rip our hair out and use them as handcuffs?" she continued, as you cycled behind her with a wariness only the demon could bring out of you. "he comes up with the most creative threats, y'know. sometimes i'm a little impressed, but my hair's too short for handcuffs —"

"he wanted us bald," you reminded her helpfully, "so that means ripping your hair from the roots, which is long enough for handcuffs, paired with mine, too."

"that's irrelevant," said megumi, his hair standing up as the four of you cycled through the breeze. you imagined him looking rather silly from the front, seeing as the back was serving enough laughs out of both you and yuji. "and i can't do much today anyway. after the movie, i have to look over sharmin and miwa's history homework."

you frowned at the back of his head.

"you're doing their homework?" you asked, sounding offended.

"they asked me to look over it before practice today," megumi answered calmly, "but i didn't have time, so i said i'd do it later today and give it back to them tomorrow."

that did not sit right with you, not when megumi always refused to do your homework whenever you asked.

you pedalled faster and slipped in between megumi and nobara, shooting him a look of disapproval.

"any time i ask you to do my homework, you refuse," you told him with a raised brow.

"same goes for them," megumi responded, throwing nobara (who was now behind the two of you) and yuji both a look a warning glance for arguing over nothing loudly. "i'm not doing their homework. i'm looking over it."

you shrugged. "yeah that's what i ask you to do, too."

"no you don't."

"yes i do!"

"you don't."

"i do!"

"you don't," megumi snapped, his patience thin. "you lie about being sick and try to guilt trip me into it —"

"accusations!" you gasped, lifting one hand to point at him dramatically. "false accusations!"

you'd nearly lost your balance on your bike due to how quickly you had sat up and let go of the handlebars. megumi, once again, extended his own arm and directed your bike properly again, but not without clicking his tongue at you in distaste.

"y/n!" nobara called for you from behind.

you looked over your shoulder and then regretted it when megumi flicked your forehead in warning. you turned back around abruptly, narrowing your eyes at him as they watered.

he didn't have to do it so hard, you thought to yourself grumpily.

"nobara, i can't look at you 'cause of the bike police over here —"

"shut up."

despite megumi's harsh criticism, nobara had continued to talk anyway.

"yuji's hair is nothing like miwa's, right?" she said, and you did not have to look back to be aware of yuji's frown of both annoyance and disappointment. "his is like a dull pink —"

yuji did not like that. "hey!"

"miwa's looks better," you responded easily. it hadn't been a difficult decision after all: you remembered the day miwa had walked past the school doors with the long, blue hair that ran past her shoulders and spine. "the blue suits her! and the bangs too!"

"told you," you heard nobara's smug voice add.

"it also matches her eyes," you commented with a smile. "you can't say the same, yuji."

"wha— megumi!" yuji shouted desperately. "help me out!"

you glanced over at megumi's face. he seemed indifferent, as always, but his response had said otherwise.

he had shrugged, relaxed. "they're right."

yuji's wail of misery only had the three of you threatening to leave him behind. he had sulked for a bit, but eventually joined in on the next set of conversations you found yourself immersed in for a portion of the remainder of the journey.

the sun hung low on the horizon, its amber glow spilling across the quiet neighborhood like molten gold. the bungalows stood neatly in rows, their silhouettes softened by the warm, fading light, and the occasional flicker of a porch light hinted at the coming dusk, while the air seemed to grow still, as though welcoming the four of you to yuji's neighbourhood again.

"you can't do it," you told yuji, who had been adamant in showing all of you a trick that choso had taught him on his bike the other day. you threw him a look of disbelief from over your shoulder.

your bike had swerved unexpectedly, and when you turned back around to regain control, you noted that it was megumi, who had his hand on the front of your bike, apparently saving you from having ridden over a large rock in the middle of the road.

"i can!" yuji protested, riding past both you and megumi to keep up with nobara, who had long since ridden ahead. "just watch!"

"don't do it, you idiot," megumi chided, glaring at the back of yuji's pink head.

"but —"

megumi cut across him harshly. "you're gonna fall."

"i won't!" yuji shouted back, eyes wide with exhilaration. "i've done it a hundred times already! just look!"

yuji surged forwards on his bike, his grin brimming with confidence as he positioned himself to attempt the trick. he shifted his weight back, tugging up on the handlebars with a flourish to lift the front wheel off the ground.

for a brief, fleeting moment, the bike wobbled in perfect balance, his exhilarated laughter ringing out in triumph.

but then the balance tipped — too far back — and the wheel slammed down awkwardly.

yuji, unable to steady himself, tumbled sideways onto the road with a loud thud, his limbs sprawling across the sidewalk. his bike clattered noisily beside him, the bell letting out an inadvertent chime as it hit the ground.

the three of you stopped, a beat of stunned silence passing before laughter broke out simultaneously: nobara had doubled over her handlebars, wheezing as she clutched her side, while you clapped a hand over your mouth, struggling to stifle your snickers. even megumi's usual stoic expression cracked slightly, his lips twitching as he muttered something under his breath and shook his head.

yuji groaned dramatically, sprawled out on the concrete road like a tragic hero, but none of you made a move to help him, not even when he asked.

"guys..." he called out weakly, face scrunched in pain. he extended his arm shakily, eyes half-lidded. "help..."

you shot a glance at nobara, holding your breath to try and stop yourself from snorting out another round of laughs, before turning your bike around and cycling away.

"just go, leave him," you hurriedly told her, your legs working quickly on the pedals of your bike.

yuji lifted his head.

she did not hesitate in following suit.

"we warned you!" she called out with a wide grin.

megumi had not said a word as he, too, seemed to agree with the both of you, his feet pressing down on the pedals a little faster.

"go, don't look back," you muttered, kicking off your bikes to continue cycling down the road.

you laughed merrily as his calls of protest grew faint the further you rode away, leaving him to flail on the ground, loudly lamenting his fate.

but of course, you weren't evil — perhaps nobara was, though — for you and megumi had turned on your bikes to get him, and she had been the only one who let out a groan of exhaustion at the mere thought of it.

but the funniest part wasn't the way you'd found yuji lying on the road in the exact same way you'd left him, nor was it the way his eyes had lightened up at the sight of you...

it was how he had remained firm on giving you all the silent treatment the rest of the way to his house, and how he had been struggling to do so, for if anyone was an expert, qualified chatter, it was yuji itadori.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the football field stretched wide under the fading light, its green expanse marked with crisp white lines that gleamed faintly in the late afternoon. you were standing on the bench at the front row, watching the football players dart across the field.

it was jujutsu high's open game for the football team, which (by the school's definition) was a practice session open for the general school public to attend.

your eyes followed the ball as it sailed through the air, a blur of motion intercepted by a leaping player — chad, you noticed with raised brows, as the whistle from coach yaga encouraged the rest of the team to push forward.

your eyes had scoured the players in search of your friends. you couldn't exactly tell who was who because of the uniform and helmet that would conceal both their bodies and their faces, so you could only rely on their player numbers displayed on both the fronts and backs of their jerseys.

player number one — who was currently sprinting alongside massive player number six — was yuji. you never bothered him when he concentrated on the game. you usually saved the disturbance for when he'd done something to piss you off (like intentionally telling your spanish teacher that you deleted duolingo off your phone to spare some storage).

player number two was who you were really looking for, and it only brought a smile to your face when you'd found him — megumi — sprinting the other way.

"you're going the wrong way, megumi!" you helpfully reminded him.

he ignored you, as per usual. but you noticed, with triumph, how his legs had started to slow down.

beneath his helmet, you were certain he was gritting his teeth.

"the ball's that's way!" you called out, one hand cupping the side of your mouth, the other benevolently pointing at player number eight, who was now in possession of the ball. "what are you doing?"

megumi had approached coach yaga, and from where you were stood, accompanied by the chatter of the other onlookers, you could not hear what was being exchanged between the two. the sharp glare that coach yaga had shot you was a lot to go by, however, not that you cared.

you hadn't cared in middle school, you wouldn't care now.

yaga knew that very well.

megumi turned away and had begun jogging towards his teammates again. you shook your head, your foot tapping the metal of the bench impatiently.

"well it's too late for that now!" you told him, tutting in disapproval. "they've gone and scored without you! oh — hi toge!"

player number six, todo, was a towering presence, and you watched as he charged across the field with the ball tucked firmly under his arm, shrugging off attempted tackles like they were nothing more than minor inconveniences. close behind, yuji darted around the defence with his usual agility, his movements quick and unpredictable, drawing shouts of encouragement from somewhere behind you, because — right, that was a thing now — he had gained quite a few admirers over the last week, not that he had been aware of it. the only reason you knew was because of an occasion last week where you and nobara had camped inside a singular stall in the girls' toilets, overhearing a conversation between a few sophomores and juniors.

megumi was now in possession of the ball, and though he wasn't as speedy as yuji, he excelled in the game by being strategic, which compensated for the lack of agility.

he's doing well, you thought to yourself. it was too bad you enjoyed poking fun at him.

you exaggeratedly waved both arms in the air as if directing imaginary traffic, calling out random, unhelpful advice about the game. his head had turned for a fraction of a second, and that had been enough to encourage you to go further.

"quick! the small one's behind you!" you called out, your expression grave. you chuckled when he actually looked over his shoulder. "haha! made you look —"

"— l/n!"

your eyes travelled across the field to meet yaga's, shielded by his sunglasses. he didn't look pleased in the slightest, but he hadn't said anything else when you stared back at him.

your name was his first warning.

you shrugged and turned back to the game, mimicking a referee's whistle sound — poorly, of course — just to see if it would make megumi glance your way again.

it didn't, but you had not missed the way he'd quickened his steps, an act to try and free himself from being forced to listen to your constant shouts and yells.

"megumi! spell red!" you called out to him, your hands cupping your mouth. he turned around and narrowed his eyes at you, a menacing glint circling in each of his irises. "no? okay, i'll do it for you! L — S — T — E — R —"

the field erupted with laughter.

number six, todo, was the first to lose it, nearly doubling over as he slapped his thigh, while yuji could barely stay upright, clutching his sides and wheezing between gasps of air. the entire team seemed to pause, their focus on the game completely derailed, as they recalled the viral meme and the ridiculousness of your performance.

yaga, however, was not amused. he blew his whistle sharply, barking at the players to get back into formation, his forehead veins looking like they might burst at any second.

"keep laughing, and you'll all be running laps until the sun sets!" he roared, but his threats only managed to stifle the laughter into barely concealed snickers. "and you — stop opening that damned mouth of yours!"

meanwhile, megumi shot you a glare so venomous, it could have melted steel. his fists clenched at his sides, and you could see the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders as he tried to rein in his irritation.

"stop," he snapped, his voice dripping with exasperation.

"all right, all right," you sighed, before cupping your mouth again. "spell megumi! T — O — J — Y!"

megumi stood in the centre of the grassy field, arms by his sides, like a child refusing to comply to rules. you could see the way his jaw had clenched at your joke.

he had always had this incessant need to be right. to correct you when you were wrong. to show off his brilliance.

you could see him fighting a losing battle.

"that's not how you spell my dad's name —" he'd started angrily, but the sound of yaga's whistle had cut through anything you had wanted to say in response.

"IS THIS THE SPELLING BEE?" he demanded, irate. "fushiguro!" he'd all but bellowed, teeth gritted. "why are your legs not moving?"

megumi turned to face his teacher.

"she spelled my dad's name wrong —"

"IS YOUR DAD HERE TO BEAR WITNESS?"

"..."

"GET BACK TO YOUR TEAMMATES!"

megumi had made a move to leave, but at the sound of your snickers, he stopped, lifting his arm and pointing it in your direction.

"kick her out," he'd said — correction: demanded — without hesitation.

your mouth fell open in sheer disbelief, arms extended outwards in confusion as you glared at megumi like he'd just committed the ultimate betrayal.

kick you out? the audacity, you mentally marvelled.

you weren't even on the field, which you could've easily invaded if you had wanted to. you were merely offering a bit of moral support (albeit in your own unique, slightly chaotic way).

"that's a breach of my human rights," you alerted both your teacher and your friend. then, you shifted your attention to only coach yaga. "he's not even participating! personally, i think he should be benched!"

"l/n, sit down and SHUT UP!"

"no, seriously!" you insisted, crouching down to untie your shoelaces. "i can replace him on the field!"

megumi turned around again to face you this time. even though his helmet made it hard to see his face properly, you could see the way he'd narrowed his eyes at you. "you don't even know how to play properly —"

"well i'd do a hell of a lot better than what you're doing," you told him, standing up again and folding your arms over your chest. "which is nothing, by the way."

coach yaga had had enough:

"FUSHIGURO, STOP ENGAGING WITH HER AND MOVE UP THE FIELD!"

megumi faced the angry man with, no doubt, a glare of his own. "she's —"

"NOW!" yaga had bellowed, and you could only laugh at the way megumi's fists had clenched, but he'd obediently ran towards the other players (not without shooting you a glower, though).

you chuckled at his reaction, but choked on it when coach yaga had mercilessly turned to you next.

"SIT. DOWN. L/N," he ordered you, the hand holding the whistle lined with angry veins threatening to pop. you could see one on his forehead, too.

you opened your mouth to oppose, but he'd blown his whistle so you couldn't even hear yourself speak.

and this had become a recurring theme.

any time your lips would part — whether to cheer for a play, yell sarcastic advice at megumi, or protest yaga's increasingly dictatorial tone — the sharp, ear-piercing sound of his whistle cut through the air, drowning you out completely. he'd positioned himself nearby, whistle ready at his lips, as though waiting for the exact moment you dared to utter a sound.

you even tried whispering once, only for him to blow it louder than ever, causing you to flinch and clutch your ears.

the message was clear: coach yaga would not tolerate your antics.

but his overzealous whistle-blowing had unintended consequences, ones that had you giggling into your hands.

the players, accustomed to the whistle being a signal for key game instructions, had begun growing confused by the constant interruptions. at one point, both kamo and logan parker hesitated mid-play, unsure whether the sharp whistle had been meant to signal an offside or something else entirely, and this had led to an awkward collision on the field — logal tripping over kamo as the latter tried to pivot too late — and the two of them ended up sprawled in a tangled heap.

and yaga, visibly frustrated by both the situation at hand and the rhythm of your constant laughter, had no choice but to bench them both, muttering something about how some people were ruining his practice.

"your hair's a mess," you told kamo, when he'd approached the bench you were standing on with his helmet beneath his arm.

"thanks, didn't notice," he responded, blowing the loose strands of his hair out of his face.

you eyed him carefully as he sat by your feet, his knees an angry shade of red where he'd fallen due to the collision.

"does that hurt?" you asked, frowning. "you could sue yaga for blowing his whistle and causing confusion."

kamo peered up at you, his elbows resting on his thighs, his back hunched over in such a way that chiropractors would be disappointed by. you couldn't quite paint what he was thinking, for his face, so devoid of any and all emotion, made it so that his lips were set in a straight line and his eyes would remain half-lidded.

"you can!" you continued, as though he'd voiced his uncertainty to you. "and you can show your knees for proof!"

kamo kept his gaze fixed on the game, following the flow of plays that unfolded without him. you couldn't quite paint what he was feeling in that moment, for his expression was a mix of irritation and fatigue as he lazily tossed his helmet to the ground with a dull clatter.

"i'll remember to bring in a formal complaint tomorrow, then," he added, his eyes following player number five, who was in possession of the ball.

"i'll be your backup!" you told him enthusiastically. when he peered up at you, expectant, you clarified yourself. "y'know, for moral support."

"hold my hand and everything?"

you grinned. "all right, don't get ahead of yourself now."

"my bad," he said, bringing a hand up to brush the stray hairs out of his face. his dark hair had been tied back with a flimsy rubber-band into a low, loose bun, which apparently proved worthless in a rough game of football.

at the centre of the field, andre johnson clapped his hands loudly, rallying the players into position as he directed the next play with precision. toge stood further back, his sharp eyes scanning the field, ready to intercept, while todo, living up to his reputation, plowed through the defence like a battering ram, drawing cheers from his teammates.

you felt bad for the players that had ended up on the floor because of his onslaught of attacks.

one of them just so happened to be yuji.

and as you jested loudly at his limp body, todo stared back at him, horrified:

"BROTHER —"

"ooh..." you marvelled, standing on your tip-toes as todo ignored the game altogether and charged the other way. everyone except for megumi had moved out of the way. "might wanna put that one on a leash..."

your eyes had darted from the game to kamo, and back again.

"no offence, kamotionless..."

"none taken."

the two of you watched as megumi extended his hand to your pink-haired, groaning friend on the floor, intrigued as he accepted his help in pulling himself up.

both their heads had turned to face you.

yuji's lips parted in a comical frown, his hand clutching his lower back as he turned to glare at you with all the indignation he could muster. you could only chuckle at him, for his pink hair was dusted with grass and dirt from the collision, and his expression screamed betrayal.

raising one hand, he offered you an exaggerated thumbs-down, shaking it slowly as though to emphasise just how unimpressed he was.

you stared back at him, brow raised as you placed a pointer finger on your chest, mouthing 'me?'.

his exaggerated nod made you scowl at him and look at megumi instead, but his stare wasn't any better, for it had lingered on you longer than necessary: his sharp eyes had darkened as they subtly drifted downwards, his expression tightening ever so slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was irritation or something else entirely.

he was still pissed at your interruption of the game from earlier, clearly, for his stance had been tinged with quiet discontent, as though he'd seen something he didn't quite like.

rude, you thought to yourself, i stopped yelling at him and i'm likeable.

whatever it was, he said nothing, his eyes snapping back to the field with a stoicism that betrayed nothing outwardly.

across the field, yaga's voice thundered over the chaos.

"ITADORI! FUSHIGURO! get back to your positions — NOW!"

yuji jumped slightly at the sheer force of his command, but megumi had barely looked fazed, as though this was a common occurrence during practice.

yuji shot one last mournful look in your direction before jogging into place, his steps a little heavier than before. megumi, on the other hand, walked briskly back into formation, his gaze focused ahead, though the rigid set of his shoulders suggested he wasn't entirely composed. yaga's glare followed them both until they were back in line, his frustration simmering visibly as he blew his whistle to resume the play.

"what's the history with you and coach yaga?" kamo had asked, which had greatly surprised, your brows raised as you stared down at him. he took your silence as a sign to continue. "yuji said you met coach yaga in middle school."

"oh my god," you beamed, hopping off the bench to sit down on it. "i'm so glad you asked!"

you dug into your pocket and retrieved your phone, tapping on it excitedly to pull up the set of images in your camera roll that you'd visit so often, it would never catch dust.

the academic years of twenty-fourteen to twenty-sixteen.

"so i met him in the sixth grade," you explained, selecting an image of him from the time you had unexpectedly pulled your phone out in the middle of the corridor and snapped a headshot. "that's what he looked like back then, so, not that different. still got that weird spiky hairstyle, except it's longer now, but you get the idea."

kamo nodded, his front leaning forward to get a good look at your phone.

"he's angry," he commented idly.

"er... yeah," you confirmed, hesitant. you slowly swiped to the next photo — yaga's realisation of the image being taken. "that's 'cause i took his photo in the middle of the hallway, so..." you shook your head quickly. "but anyway! i met him during our first middle school p.e class. we were playing dodgeball and i was standing at the back to support yuji, even though we'd just met through megumi, but if megumi liked him, then i knew he was good. and then yaga just got mad at me."

kamo watched as you showed him another picture of an angry coach yaga.

"and it was a whole thing," you settled on saying at last. "rest of our time during middle school went by with a theme of pissing yaga off. it's tradition now."

kamo raised a brow, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in mild amusement as he listened.

"sounds like you've had a pretty clear mission since day one," he said, his tone dry but his gaze alight with curiosity. he tilted his head slightly as he regarded the photo on your screen, his hand brushing back a loose strand of hair as he continued. "coach only ever turns red when you're around."

there was no judgment in his voice, just a quiet humour that seemed to match the slight, crooked smile now playing on his face.

without a word, kamo shifted subtly closer to you, leaning in as though to get a better look at the next photo. his arm rested lightly on the bench beside you, and while the movement was casual, the reduced space between you both went unnoticed — or perhaps, just unacknowledged.

you didn't seem to mind at all, and the easy flow of your conversation remained uninterrupted. if anything, the proximity only added to the comfortable rhythm of your storytelling:

"there's actually a legacy," you grinned, swiping several times to get to a particular image. "you know s— mr gojo, miss ieiri, mr nanami, and mr haibara were yaga's students back when they were in school?"

kamo didn't say anything at that. some part of you couldn't blame him, especially when you would constantly spew out nonsense that megumi would immediately shut down in front of everyone.

if you weren't you, you probably wouldn't have believed yourself either.

"at least try to look like you believe me," you scowled.

"no, i do," kamo insisted, though not very convincingly.

"no you don't."

"yeah i don't."

"okay, well, now you will," you stated, showing him the photo you'd been searching for in your packed camera roll.

it was yaga's wedding in january of two-thousand-and-six. you had chosen this particular photo because of the scene in the background: the men you knew dressed sharply in suits and ties, and the women you knew also elegantly adorned in dresses and heels.

"he's married?" kamo asked, looking genuinely surprised. it was the only time you had seen any form of emotion cross his face.

"was married," you corrected him, and then laughed as you zoomed in on his face. "got divorced years ago — look, he's bald!"

as you and kamo continued discussing yaga's wedding, the conversation spiralled into unexpected detail. you pointed out the floral arrangements in the background, commenting on how they looked oddly mismatched with the formal attire of the guests. kamo had raised an eyebrow, countering that maybe yaga had bad taste in decorators. from there, the discussion veered into an animated debate over who had possibly caught the bouquet, with you insisting it was nanami and kamo scoffing at the idea of him even participating.

but just as kamo parted his lips to counter your next argument, yaga's unmistakable voice had cut through the air.

"LOVEBIRDS!" he'd roared, the two of you looking up simultaneously towards the field where yaga stood, hands on his hips, thoroughly exasperated. "FOCUS ON THE GAME, OR LEAVE!"

you pocketed your phone again, glaring at yaga like he'd personally offended you on a cosmic level.

"he's just salty we have luscious hair," you muttered under your breath bitterly. the fact that the entire field had fallen silent didn't deter you from adding more in the slightest. "got a lot of nerve for someone with a wedding album collecting dust..."

unbeknownst to you, chad smirked knowingly, glancing towards kamo with an exaggeratedly teasing expression, waggling his eyebrows as if he'd just uncovered the secret of the universe. kamo, predictably, ignored him entirely, his focus unshaken.

meanwhile, megumi's reaction had been far sharper.

his eyes darted between you and kamo before settling firmly on you, his brow furrowing so deeply it looked like he was judging you for a crime against humanity. his glare lingered, sharp and unyielding, like you'd just desecrated something sacred — which, knowing megumi, might've been the concept of behaving during practice.

"just get him back on the field," he stated firmly, shooting coach yaga a glare.

"kid's right," said yaga, before blowing his whistle again. "KAMO, PARKER — BOTH OF YOU — BACK ON THE FIELD!"

obediently, kamo rose to his feet, brushing off his knees before bending down and retrieving his discarded helmet, and then giving a short, wordless nod to logan parker, who had been waiting nearby.

from the sidelines, yaga's gaze immediately zeroed in on you.

"AND YOU!" he barked, pointing a commanding finger. "stop distracting my players! you've got five seconds to zip it, or you're out of here!" his voice had carried across the field with the same force as his whistle.

you frowned deeply. his reaction felt like an overreaction to you — typical yaga behavior.

but then, the realisation hit you like a sudden spotlight. you glanced at your watch and felt a jolt of panic. you were supposed to stay for only a bit before heading to rehearsal.

"ah, shit! i'm late for rehearsal!" you panicked, hurriedly grabbing your bag and scrambling to leave. the theatre director was definitely not going to forgive you for being late again, especially with the lead role hanging in the balance.

as you ran across the benches, you looked over your shoulder, ignoring the crowd and team laughing at you.

"lady yaga, this is all your fault by the way!"

as you darted towards the building, the teasing chants from the football team had started fading behind you. despite the growing distance between you and them, you could hear yaga cursing you from where he stood, as though he were right next to you.

you were not, however, aware of the two pairs of eyes watching you retreat, one of them mildly amused, the other beyond annoyed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

the cracked pavement beneath satoru's feet echoed faintly as he strolled through the unfamiliar neighbourhood.

during a conversation about toji's dark past, he had showed off to the family about never having stolen anything, as well as never being stolen from, which only resulted in ogi demanding that he walk in a sketchier neighbourhood and see if he could come back saying the same thing.

and he had been confident, of course, as he looked around at the graffiti-covered walls and flickering streetlights, which might have seemed intimidating to anyone else, but he remained blissfully unfazed, humming a tune under his breath.

in one hand, he'd held a slightly squished cupcake, the frosting a little smeared but no less delightful to him. his sunglasses perched jauntily on his nose, and his long strides carried him through the shadows as though the neighbourhood itself were lucky to have him gracing its streets.

...

that had been before he'd found himself trapped in a phone-box, the gang that had caused his sealing surrounding the box in awe.

'we seriously stole the gojo guy's money?'

'aw heck yeah! he's filthy rich, too!'

'look at that sleek, black card!'

'awesome! his phone's the new model as well!'

satoru stared at the gang leader, scowling.

his balaclava had fallen when satoru had thrown a punch at him earlier, exposing his tattooed face, the dark line that crossed his nose and the thin arrowed lines that went down his eyes.

satoru thought he looked silly with those pigtails.

"how much are those glasses?" the leader had asked, throwing his balaclava over his shoulder for one of his minions to scramble for.

satoru, his neck bent in an attempt to not bump his head, flashed him a grin.

"more than you can afford."

the guy gritted his teeth at him. satoru felt satisfaction bloom in his chest at that, but he noted how the tattooed male could be no older than seventeen or eighteen. what the hell was he doing as a leader of a gang?

"but you should probably open the door to try and get them," satoru suggested, bending down a little to meet the kid's face.

"i'm not stupid," the kid scowled. he was bagging all of satoru's expensive belongings right in front of him.

"if you were smart, you wouldn't style your hair like a five year old girl."

"if you were smart, you would dye your hair."

satoru scowled at him. "if you continued your education, you wouldn't need to join a gang for money."

the kid didn't look too pleased with satoru's rapid riposte, for he looked around at his minions, slinging the bag of satoru's possessions over his shoulder, and turning away with a raised brow.

"come and get your stuff," he had challenged the trapped, white-haired male, who could only watch in anger as one of the minions marvelled at his stolen cupcake.

his cupcake.

satoru let out an exaggerated groan, his head lightly thudding against the very top of the glass wall of the phone box as he tilted his chin to the ceiling (that happened to be so very close to his face).

this was beyond annoying; his cupcake was gone, his wallet and phone stolen, and now he was cramped into this tiny, outdated relic of communication...

but then, a flicker of excitement sparked across his face, the edges of his mouth curling upwards.

out of all the traps he could've been stuck in, it had to be a phone box. how retro. how tragically iconic.

with a sigh, he tapped the dusty dial pad, punching in one of the numbers he knew by heart: shoko's.

the faint hum of the dial tone filled the tiny space as he leaned back, arms crossed, waiting with a fading grin to hear her undoubtedly sarcastic greeting.

but it had been taking a while.

"this is such a pain," he grumbled to himself, annoyed.

and then looked up excitedly when her voice sounded through the speaker.

"hello?"

"shoko, i'm trapped in a phone box 'cause some poor kid with his gang jumped me," he explained hurriedly. it wasn't a completely accurate retelling of the story, but it got the main gist of it, and he was punched for time. "i need your help!"

there was a pause. was she seriously contemplating helping him?

"..."

"shoko?"

"hm," she hummed, her voice nasally. it usually got like that when she was working. "have you returned my lighter?"

satoru furrowed his brows. he had never promised to give that back, not when he hated it when she smoked.

"no —"

BEEEEEEP...

she had hung up.

satoru angrily punched in the numbers of another friend, one who had to be more sensible than her.

"hope she has an asthma attack," he cursed quietly, as he expectantly waited for nanami to pick up the phone.

"kento nanami, who's calling?"

as formal as ever; satoru expected no less. had he been in a better predicament, he would have made a joke about it.

"nanami!" he cheered, and then hurriedly got to the point. perhaps he ought to go a different route, if only to avoid the same outcome with smoke-addict-shoko. "remember when i helped you pay for yuu's birthday expenses?"

he heard him let out a breathy sigh from the other end of the call.

"what's this about, gojo?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

satoru explained his situation as best as he could. he had high hopes for this call — nanami was always the serious, sensible one. there was no way he'd turn him down now.

"you're stuck in a phone box with no way out?" he repeated, though even nanami wouldn't be able to fake amusement even if he tried. satoru felt his stomach drop. "what a shame."

BEEEEEEP...

and he was left with that same ringing beep...

no, the next one would work. he was certain of it.

the kfc disagreement might have occurred a year or two ago, but it was all right. satoru knew that.

they were best friends, after all.

he hurriedly pressed suguru's phone number into the dial and waited.

and waited.

and waited...

...and waited...

and then gave up.

i would've picked up his call, he thought to himself bitterly, before dialling the fushiguros' telephone.

he prayed to god that megumi would answer, and not —

"erm... hello!"

you.

he found you funny, a great kid, one to match the zenins' wit in every way. but you could be so very... chatty.

especially when he didn't have the time.

"y/n, i'm trapped in a phone box 'cause of some sketchy kids in a gang," he explained, though something in his gut knew that this was futile, "where's megumi's mom? where's your mom? in the event that she'd even care —"

"my mom is —"

but you had paused, for megumi's voice had entered the line, but distant:

"i know you stole my book, y/n. give it back."

"i didn't — ugh! satoru, i can't talk to you right now 'cause i'm in the middle of making fun of megumi 'cause he said i stole his boring, non-fiction book when i didn't —"

"— yeah i don't give a shit, where's your mom?" he interrupted, because there was only so much he could take.

your gasp on the other end of the line was telling.

and it came as no surprise to him when you hung up as revenge:

"oh you— okay! bye!"

"wait, y/n —"

BEEEEEEP...

"oh for fucks —" he began, but kept his cool as he pictured his wife. his wife who, surely, would help him. she was his only hope at this point, because if not her, then it had to be ogi.

if not her, then it had to be toji.

he shivered at the thought.

he waited for her to pick up.

"hello? who is this?"

he had no time to waste.

there was a long pause after satoru's rushed explanation, the muffled static on the other end of the line filling the silence. he leaned forwards slightly, gripping the receiver, his hope wavering as the seconds stretched on. surely, his wife was gearing up for some clever solution, for she was smart, he remembered that well during high school and college — or at least, that's what he convinced himself of.

then came the sound of her laughter.

it started low, building into something unrestrained and far too amused for his liking.

and before he could say or do anything else, she ended the call with a click, hanging up the phone herself. satoru stood there, staring at the receiver in disbelief, the faint beep of the disconnected line mocking him.

BEEEEEEP...

reluctantly, he had called both ogi and toji next, and each regret stung more than the last. ogi sounded all too pleased by the event, and had hung up to, no doubt, inform everyone he knew of 'the gojo heir' being a victim of mugging.

toji's brutal honesty hit harder.

his voice had been laced with smug amusement, delivering one dismissive insult after another before abruptly cutting the call. by the time the phone clicked silent again, satoru felt something he rarely experienced — genuine, soul-deep irritation.

with a frustrated growl, satoru clenched his fist and swung it towards the glass, the impact reverberating through the phone box.

a sharp crack echoed as small fractures spread across the surface, and a few shards broke loose, tumbling to the ground.

he flexed his fingers, inspecting the streaks of red beginning to stain his knuckles. the sight annoyed him more than the pain — bleeding wasn't part of the plan. still, the partial break in the glass was hopeful, and he prepared himself for another attempt.

as he paused to assess his next move, his gaze caught on a young blonde-haired girl walking along the street nearby. she couldn't have been older than you or megumi, about ten, her small figure striking against the gritty surroundings.

desperation took over as he called out to her, motioning with his uninjured hand. the girl stopped and turned towards him, but her wide, wary eyes said it all — she clearly thought he was some sort of lunatic. satoru would have tried to understand his viewpoint if he wasn't so irritated with his situation.

she hesitated, clutching her backpack tighter, and stared at him as though deciding whether to run or stay.

"you're a pedo!" she'd decided altogether, which only got satoru to clench his jaw at her.

his neck was starting to hurt with how the height of the phone box had bent him at its will.

"i'm not a pedo, and if i was, you'd be safe, you blonde, bob-headed, little shit."

she furrowed her brows at him, but she'd taken several steps closer, which told him that there was a certain level of trust there between them.

"i'm trapped," he explained, for the eighth time. he looked around and saw a discarded hammer on the dusty floor. "get that hammer and pass it to me through the hole i made."

"my mom told me not to speak to strangers," said the child, her white dress notable in comparison to all the dust and dirt surrounding them.

"your mom also left you unattended in this sketchy neighbourhood," said satoru, brows raised. "you think her opinion matters? help me out."

the child still seemed reluctant. satoru groaned loudly.

"i'll buy you a cupcake."

she ran over to the hammer and presented it to him. satoru encouraged her to push it through the hole, but the way she was looking at it made him pause.

and he was right to do so, for she unexpectedly held it over her head, and then slammed it into the glass window, his hands immediately going over his head to prevent the glass from cutting into his face and sensitive areas.

"sick," he marvelled, as she continued to smash up the glass.

and after a little more smashing, she had finally had her fun and handed the hammer over to satoru through a much wider hole.

he took it gratefully, looking down at her through his round glasses with his head tilted.

"might wanna step back, kid," he warned her, before releasing all his pent-up anger on the phone box, enough to smash its front in a way that made it unrecognisable.

he stepped out, throwing the hammer away, leaving it discarded somewhere forgettable behind him.

"i'm getting my stuff back."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the gang gathered around satoru's possessions with wide eyes, each of them marvelling at the loot they'd just stolen. the leader, with a smug grin on his face, rifled through his wallet, fascinated by the sleek, black card inside.

"this guy's loaded," he muttered to himself, feeling more than a little victorious, for there had been four different sleek cards, and he was certain if they chose to rob his house next, they'd find more.

his fingers hovered over satoru's phone, still in pristine condition despite the earlier struggle.

the rest of the gang members, too, admired the items with greedy satisfaction.

but their smugness was short-lived.

in a blur, everything around them seemed to freeze for a moment, only to snap back into chaos. one second, they were standing in the middle of the street, basking in their victory, and the next — a flash of white filled their vision.

it was as if the world had shifted, disorienting them completely. the last thing they saw was satoru's towering presence, the white of his hair and his eyes like blinding light.

then, with only one warning from one of the members ("guys, he's coming! he's coming!"), they found themselves in a dark alley, each of them battered and exhausted, sprawled out on the ground.

the gang leader himself could taste blood in his mouth, his head swimming as he tried to piece together what had just happened in the space of five minutes. his body screamed in pain, the bruises already beginning to form, and his mind struggled to understand the impossible speed of the attack.

they hadn't stood a chance.

satoru stood over him now, his foot casually pressing down on the younger man's face, pinning him to the ground with alarming ease. his grin was feral, manic — a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

his possessions, now securely back in his grasp, were scattered around him, including the cupcake, which he held up to his lips, barely noticing the bloodstained mess of the street around him. his body was tense, like a coiled spring, filled with untamed energy as he looked down at the leader with barely-contained excitement...

there was something unnerving about the way he was smiling — something wild and unhinged, as if the fight, the chase, and the thrill had unlocked something primal within him. he was terrifying, but utterly in control of himself, and the chaos surrounding him.

"heh," he laughed to himself, throwing the bag over his shoulder. "i get why toji used to do this all the time. look at your faces!"

he eyed them all, noticing one thing they all had in common. he laughed loudly.

they were all japanese.

"what is this, the yakuza?" he joked, taking a bite out of his cupcake.

he deserved more sweet treats, he decided. perhaps he would go downtown to treat himself again.

his eyes had landed on the very criminal that had taken his cupcake intentionally. he walked away from the gang leader and bent down to present it to him again.

"want a bite?" he teased.

when he didn't respond, satoru stood up straight again.

"what, you scared?"

but despite asking the question, he didn't wait for a response. instead, he turned around, spotting the little, blonde girl that had helped him out, and walked off without looking back.

"go back to school," he advised them. "you guys are shit criminals."

satoru strolled over to the little blonde girl, who looked up at him expectantly, her bright eyes wide and curious. her expression was a mix of confusion and caution, as though she wasn't quite sure what to make of the strange man who had just singlehandedly obliterated a gang.

satoru, unfazed, reached into his wallet with a casual flick of his wrist, extracting a five-dollar bill. he held it out to her with a grin, his earlier manic energy fading into something far more playful.

"here, kid. get yourself something nice," he said with a wink.

"my name's hana," she told him, taking the bill. "hana kurusu."

he raised his brows at her.

"good to know," he'd said, and without waiting for a reply, turned on his heel, the faintest chuckle escaping his lips as he walked away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: turns out my law exam i told you about went super well (got an A, woohoo!) and i was being dramatic lmao. so half this chapter was scenes i knew you’d be happy with, the other half was a lot of kamo, which i knew a lot of you hate me for, but it had to be done ‘cause i was right about the shit sociology test :/ lmao anyway, this was basically just some filler hahaa (with semi-plot!) 😼

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

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

@1l-ynn @shaigimo @shuupiu @nappingnai @xbarrjallenx @reinaswrld @anintrovertedechoe @momoewn @polarbvnny @lailuv21 @cherriee-ee @hfuensiekabhsufnd @k0z3me @laughingfcx @jelly-fsh @anonymity-222 @blubearxy @jamypam @thelost-child @anotherwriternamedclara @ist0leurc0ffee @spookypeacesandwich @jvpit3rr

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

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

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

[inthelow]

GET HIM BACK! — jeon jungkook. (synopsis)

pairing: f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook

summary: after a hard breakup with who you thought would be the one, the only thing in your mind was a sad playlist of Taylor Swift songs and red wine. But, what happens when your neighbour- who is done of hearing you cry at 2 am every day - puts the idea in your head of getting your ex back? but with a good and sweet revenge… of course everything will be easier if you didn’t have any feelings for your ex and if your neighbour wasn’t a superstar idol who doesn’t have a problem at pretending to be your boyfriend to piss off that ex - who also happens to be his ex best friend -. What a mess, right?

genre: fake relationship trope, kinda growing up/coming of age, womanhood thing, female rage (a LOT of female rage), funny but cringe in the same way, a lot of drama - in a comedy way but also very shitty things - a lot of bad jokes and some angst (lot of thoughts about not being “good enough” and mental health issues), some sexual thing (yeah, makeout, kissing, sex, etc) and ofc bad language (impossible-to-count curse words).

masterlist: (synopsis), (one), (two), (three), (interlude 1), (interlude 2), (four), (five), (six). (epilogue)

* the masterlist is already done but would be uploaded after the fifth chapter since I don’t wanna give spoilers.

* first fic / one shot whatever you girlies call it yayy omg im so excited <33;;; please be gentle with me luv u

… At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want… Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right… I, I could feel the mascara run, You told me that you met someone…

Jung-kook put a pillow over his ear, growling with annoyance, he moved under his sheets like a baby about to do a tantrum and screamed with irritation. He couldn’t spend another night hearing your voice as loud as those stupid speakers you had, which by the way, he was curious how much did they cost you because the quality and volume they had were really good… but that wasn’t the issue so it could wait. He knew he liked Taylor Swift’s music, of course he did, she had a great voice and her lyrics - even if he didn’t understand most of them for his level of english- were good. But after spending almost two weeks hearing you sing her entire discography, especially her albums “Evermore” and “Red”, on the other side of his wall, he was starting to hate the voice of that woman. He couldn’t believe someone could listen to the same song like 20 times a day, specially a really fucking depressing one. He considered himself a really chill person, he didn’t have a problem with loud music at night because he actually does the same thing sometimes, singing karaoke at 3am on live is one of his favourite activities to do with his fans. However, there was a difference on doing that once a week to every fucking day… especially when he had to wake up in five hours to catch a flight.

Now he has a problem with you.

There were three things - actually a lot more he would like to admit - that Jungkook knew about you. First, you were incredibly annoying at midnight. Second, you were definitely having a hard time. And last but not least, you worked as a producer in HYBE which made it somehow easier to talk to you without having a scandal. So, with these three things in mind, he jumped out of bed and walked to your apartment. He knew he had to show a little of empathy to whatever you were going through but he was also going to be very serious about the problem he had with your volume. Sleepy and not thinking too much about what he was about to do, he knocked on your door for five minutes, his annoyance growing at you not being able to listen to the sound of his knocking because the music was too loud. This was getting out of hand. Jungkook let out a sigh of relief when the volume of the music decreased and the door finally opened. He tried not to show surprise when he got a good look of you. You were… well, a disaster. You wore an oversized shirt that almost covered your basketball shorts, your hair was all down, showing your messy curls and the makeup you had of the day was all ruined, the mascara was all over your cheeks and your eyes were puffy and red. Even looking like shit, you showed him a kind smile, hiding the bottle of red wine behind your back.

“Hi!, is everything okay?.”

Okay so this was the thing, Jung-kook knew who you were and he was pretty sure you knew who he was.

He met you probably three years ago, when Yoongi started to work on his third album and introduced you to the group as a new producer of the company. You never worked with them as a group though, he knew that you had worked on Taehyung’s album and that you helped Namjoon and Hoseok on their solos, he also knew you weren’t new in the business even if you were young. You worked in a lot of hits of different companies before HYBE recruited you and then you start to produce for the junior groups like LESSERAFIM and TxT. He also knew you weren’t totally owned by his company since you also worked in a lot of different productions out of HYBE and with a lot of western artist. He was familiar with you even if you actually never talked that much before. That’s why, he didn’t have a problem to have you as a neighbour, because when Yoongi recommended him this building and told him some producers and people that worked at the company lived around, it was better than going to other residential where he didn’t knew who he would have to deal with.

“Do you think you can keep it down?” he gave you a fake friendly smile. “I’m trying to sleep.”

He expected a nod and an apology however, your smile dropped and your eyes rolled with annoyance. Your fake kind facade disappearing immediately. He froze in place, frowning at your real personality “I always have to hear your karaoke shit at 3am, what’s the difference?.”

“Huh, wow” the singer cleared his throat “. Okay first, I don’t sing anymore at night…”

“Yeah, ‘cause you received a complaint.”

“Yes, but… how do you know…?” he gasped and opened his eyes with surprise “It was you?. Why would you…”

“No, it wasn’t me but Mrs. Yang had a good reason to do that complaint” you drank a little of your wine and crossed your arms.

“I hope she does one for you too, this is unfair” Jungkook pointed at you “You are also making me hate Taylor Swift.”

Your grimace became a pout, realizing you were being inconsiderate with the singer “okay, I’m sorry. I will try to keep the volume down.”

“Thank you” he sighed “have a goodnight…”

“ Yeah, okay, you too… oh wait!” you stopped him in the hallway “. Do you have a pot? I’m trying to make ramen.”

Jung-kook frowned, not believing what you just told him “you don’t have a pot?.”

You looked at him like he asked your deepest secret of all times before clearing your throat. “ Yeah, so funny story” you laughed dryly “. I got dumped and now I have to live here again and my ex has almost all my things.” your fake smile dropped again. “Actually is not funny, is sad and pathetic… I don’t even have a bed right now and I’m sleeping on my couch like a fucking rat. I haven’t eaten a homemade meal for three weeks so I’m getting fat and I look so ugly now that…”

“Jesus Christ” the idol started to panic when you sobbed very loudly.

“I’m okay!… I’m okay, yeah I’m okay, don’t worry, I’m totally fine. I’m so fine… it’s crazy, yeah ” you nodded, trying - and failing - to not sob “. So you have a pod I can borrow?.”

Jung-kook looked at you sitting on his kitchen’s table and eating his ramen with a little confusion inside of him. He didn’t know how he ended up inviting you over and cooking ramen for you at 5am but there he was, sitting in front of you and watching you eat as the sun started to show up. He knew he would hate your guts later for not being able to sleep but he also knew he would feel guilty for not helping you when you were screaming for someone to hear you out. So yeah, he didn’t mind hearing you cry for thirty minutes while he cooked. He also didn’t mind that after your ugly cry you checked all his apartment like you were his closest friend. You were in a vulnerable state and he didn’t have the guts or the strength to tell you to not be nosey and mind your business, at least not in that moment. It was weird because he didn’t actually knew you as a personal friend but you acted like he did, like you knew each other for a long time and it wasn’t weird that you just cried in his kitchen for twenty minutes before looking at his collection of underwear around his living room.

“This is the best ramen I’ve ever had. ” you nod and talked with your mouth full of noodles. He snorted, tired. “By the way, do you have a Calvin Klein sponsorship or something? You have a lot of underwear by them.”

“You grabbed my underwear!?.”

“Hey, wow, I didn’t grab it. Your dirty clothes is all over your couch.”

“It’s not dirty. Also, you’re nosy.”

“I’m not, you let me in.”

“Not for you to grab my underwear…”

you sighed, annoyed “I didn’t!”.

he laughed. “Okay, okay, whatever, just finish your soup already.”

“Are you kicking me out already?.”

“Yes.”

“Rude” you pouted, “thought we were becoming friends.”

“I went to your apartment for you to keep it down and you started to cry. Yes, we’re best friends now” he said sarcastically.

You looked at him in silence and for a moment he thought that maybe you didn’t get his joke and his fake rudeness. He opened his mouth to explain himself but you spoke again.

“I mean, I cried in front of you and you made me ramen. We should be married by now.”

Okay, funny. You are funny, you could keep a joke, even in that fucked up state you were at the moment. He liked it.

“Do you even know my name?” he raised an eyebrow, jokingly.

You scoffed, “Do I need to?”.

“I think that’s the first thing we need to have a healthy marriage.”

“That’s overrated.”

He snorted “yeah, I guess I can just call you ‘dude’.”

You frowned, “I’m your wife, dude”.

He pretended to think of another nickname “Wifey?”

“Ew.”

“Bro?”

“Try again.”

“Baby princess?”

you tried not to laugh, “I kinda like that one.”

“Pookie bear?.”

“Yes?”

he laughed “I hate that one.”

“To be honest, I preferred the baby princess.”

“Then you can call me baby Pookie bear”

You giggled in a funny way, almost like a little kid “that’s so ugly, Jungkook.”

He smiled “Oh, you know my name.”

You looked at him in disbelief before rolling your eyes “who doesn’t?.”

“Wait, are you a crazy fan?” you were about to throw him a napkin but he stopped you “I’m kidding, y/n.”

“Oh, you know me?.”

“Shut up. You’re my wife, I have to”

You knew him, you knew you’ve never talked to him before… at least not much, maybe a greeting or a casual combo but you don’t remember having a real conversation with him. Not that you needed before, you worked in different things even if it was in the same building. You also knew he was a pop idol who you have to be careful with, not because he could do something to you but because everything could become a scandal and you didn’t feel like hiding your life or your career. You didn’t know how Jungkook felt about his private life and the things he did or share about it but, in that moment, it wasn’t something that bothered any of you since it would probably be the first and last time you would talk that much.

Right?.

“You wanna talk about that?”

The question the singer asked made you look at him. Jung-kook was ready to back off and change the subject if he noticed you were uncomfortable… he snorted when you sat down and sighed dramatically, like you were about to tell the most devastating story of all times. Of course you wouldn’t take it like a serious matter. He knew now, your coping mechanism was not taking shit seriously. It wasn’t a big deal but it wasn’t healthy either.

“Are you ready for the most heartbreaking story of all times?”

“Break my heart” he accepted.

Oh, boy.

He had to listen half an hour of you talking about this guy who treated you like shit. He hate it, a lot. And he almost interrupted you like twenty times to asked if you actually liked to be treated like shit or you were just stupid, but he stopped himself every time. The thing is, he could tell you are smart, and he knew you could do much better than your ex. You were pretty, talented and funny, and you didn’t seemed like a bad person or a toxic one… so why the fuck were you stuck in that guy?. He understood that you had history with him and, being honest, he knew not everything was bad for the way you talked about your ex, it was obvious you still had strong feelings about him and that if you had the opportunity you would probably go back to him in a second but he could also see that you knew the way you broke up and the last months of your relationship were pretty shitty. He understood that you were beginning to realize of that fact when you stopped in mid-sentence, frowning at the realization.

“Oh my god” you looked shocked by your own story. “Oh, my god” you stood up and walked around like a puppy following his tail “Oh, my… fucking piece of shit…”

Jungkook didn’t know what to say, you were clearly having an epiphany “you good?”. Oh, he needed to get better at comforting people.

“Of course not!” you grabbed your head with disbelief and anger “That motherfucker treated me like shit and dumped me on my birthday… and I’m sad?. What the fuck?!”.

“I mean, it’s valid that you’re sad…”

“And he stayed with my fucking bed, my TV and all my things!”

“So, uhm, do you want a tea or something?…”

“I can’t believe I was trying to get back with that bastard. Fucking christ, I mean yeah, he is Hangul and all but he’s not even that great or hot. I mean… fuck, yeah, he is actually very hot, but why the fuck would I think…?”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jungkook stood up, shutting you up “. You just said Hangul? Like the soloist k-pop singer Hangul?. You dated him?”

You froze in your place, looking at him with doubt “hum, I don’t think I am legally allowed to confirm or deny that question”.

Jungkook knew it was that moment. He finally had an opportunity.

He laughed without a single drop of amusement “are you fucking kidding me?.”

“I don’t know what is happening right now.”

“You’re crying for that motherfucker?.” he shook his head “. How does he keep getting away with shit?.”

You frowned in confusion, you weren’t surprised that he knew your ex, you knew they were friend for a time and after all, both - Jungkook and him - were globally famous but it was a little confusing why he seemed so angry about the guy.

“Did he dumped you too or something?” you half joked, trying to ease the tension.

“No, but he fucked my girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

That was straightforward.

“Yeah.”

Honestly, you didn’t know what to say. You knew Hangul wasn’t a saint, of course you knew, that didn’t erase the fact that he did a lot of stupid shit. Like break your heart and fucked Jungkook’s girlfriend. Still, you didn’t know if the idol who was standing next to you needed confort or if he was just upset at the memory of that shitty situation. However, your mind took the worst of that fact and the bad thoughts won the round.

“Wait, when did that happen?”

He looked at you for a couple of seconds, his blank expression changing just for a second “One year ago.”

No fucking way.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jungkook frowned “fuck, were you two dating at the time?”

“We were fucking that’s for sure” you screamed with anger “. That fucking piece of shit! he told me he was clean and wasn’t fucking anyone else, we…! Ugh! fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jungkook watched you walking around his kitchen, screaming in disbelief, angry and hurt “… And I wanted to get back with him! this is so embarrassing…”

The singer raised his eyebrows, knowing that was the perfect time for his idea. You stopped walking and screaming when the next words he said make you looked at him with confusion.

“Maybe you should!… you should get him back.”

The smile Jungkook was growing made you realize that he meant something different. And looking at his mischievous gaze you understood he didn’t knew who he was talking to. When you had an idea in your head and your feelings were hurt, god knows what you are capable of doing. And in that moment, with a bruised ego and a broken heart, you knew Jungkook could help you achieve the best revenge of all times. So you took a couple of seconds before taking the decision to ruin your ex-boyfriend’s life. You were fucking angry, and you were not a saint either. You were actually a crazy fucking bitch. Oh, he had no idea.

“Yes, I’m gonna get him back.”

It was time for a little revenge.

a little introduction (synopsis) before the long story yayyy, the lore behind this little introduction is insane btw get ready, this is for the girlies who love ‘better than revenge’, sad ballad songs and female rage, iykyk. hope you like it!!! uploading the first chapter soon!!! you don’t know shit about what’s coming

anyway stream guts by miss olivia rodrigo and get a bad bitch playlist cuz my baby is about to play the game of revenge on another level bc i fucking love female rage and i mean a REAL female rage, lets fucking get it girlies

[kisspurins]

omg the ampies!! have so so many thoughts but i’ll leave you with just one🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

messy jiho </33 we all know he’s the biggest munch n thinkin about how he would get so drooly when eating you out and it makes everything even messier!! n sloppy make outs with jiho where there’s so much spit n you’re letting him do whatever he wants because you’re just too dumb :(( drooly messy jiho with an oral fixation but he’s still so dominant💔💔

-🫧

୨୧ warnings｜whole lot of spit play，oral，size kink，daddy / dada kink，face fucking，dumbification，fake sympathy，fat huge ginormous cock jiho

jiho doesn't even mean to get so messy :( would have you on his lap n hes kissing you all slow, hands running up and down your thighs n hes so gentle and sweet your heart melts :( would pull away n spit would trail just so he can ask you if he can kiss you a little more and ofc he can!!! hes just such a gentleman!!! his voice is so soft too you can't even deny him so when he kisses you so rough and escalates it so quickly your head feels all mushy!!! him holding onto your chin while he slips his tongue in and spit is pouring out the sides of your mouth but you can't even think quick enough before hes kissing down your jaw smearing spit everywhere and down your neck :( going "ji...gettin too messy" n he just shushes you by pressing his thumb on your tongue :( finger so heavy in your mouth collecting spit just so he can pull it out your mouth n spread it alllll over your lips n chin 😞 n all you ever do is want to be good!!! jiho only likes good girls so you just let him do whatever he wants with you always!!!!!

oral with jiho.... munch jiho... yeah 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ jiho eats pussy like its his favorite pastime of the day!!! kisses up your legs n your thighs n when he gets to your panties he very well just mounts himself there :( sucking on your cunny through your panties and holding your legs down with his big big hands!! rubs up and down your thighs and his grip is so unintentionally hard sometimes it leaves bruises :( jiho hums against you when he feels you starting to get wet n messy from sucking on your clit :( would pull your panties to the side only when you cum n the fabric is all ruined!!! n goes right back to sucking on your clit after :( shakes his head when eating pussy i know it... spit dripping down his face.... onto the bed and spreading around its like you peed everywhere :( could squirt all over yourself and in his mouth and its still so incredibly hard to get him off you!!! crying n whimpering telling him its too much n its so gross bcs you can hear his slurping sounds and feel spit pooling your thighs but he just doesn't want to :( would have to go "dada... please s' too much :(" and "no more dada please" in your most pitiful voice before he snaps out of it!!!!

jiho has such a daddy kink 😞😞 it seems so unsuspecting because hes so sweet and so cute but hes actually so dominant? he likes that when you call him dada it gives him a bigger more authoritative role and he gets soooo carried away.... pulls away from your cunt n hes absolutely destroyed with his mouth all covered in you and tongue kisses you right after :( you're already so dumb and you can't even do anything but babble but its okay!! your dada will think for you!!! would hold your chin n coo at how your eyes cross :( saying how you're dada's stupid little girl and how you're so gross letting him do this to you in the softest voice :( calling you a dummy (and a stupid bitch....) but you're so out of it you think jiho's just complementing you!!!! nodding mindlessly at whatever he says n when he tells you to open your mouth you don't even doubt for a second!!! sticking your tongue out and he just :( spits on your tongue :( caressing your cheek with his thumb when he makes you swallow his spit and 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

last thing i prommy i just can't stop thinking abt messy oral with jiho but hes the one receiving :( sometimes he doesn't even give you time to process anything thats going on before hes straddling above you and his fat dick is pressing on your face :( hes so.... so fat and heavy and just feeling him on your cheek makes you panic a little :( too big of a dick you don't even think it'll fit in your mouth!!! tapping the tip on your face... your lips to spread precum around and your cheek so he can hear you gasp from how heavy he feels n taps his tip allll over i mean everywhere before he suddenly and very fastly forces himself in your mouth!!! you're so shocked you don't think to breath and hes just... thrusting in your mouth n hes groaning and sounds so good 😵‍💫 would go from caressing your face while hes going slowly but when more spit builds and it starts running out your mouth and onto his fingers.... s like a jiho you don't know!!!! would switch to his hands being buried in your hair and his thrusts get faster rougher and meaner!!! holding you down while his tip is hitting so far in the back of your throat your eyes are already crossing and you're gagging so uncontrollably but :( he can't stop!!!! spit is already everywhere and he just can't help it!! not when hes so close... bobbing your head up n down his dick while he's thrusting and hes so lost on what to do even if you're already gagging you're his good girl!! can take it a little longer!!!!! calling you the perfect pocket pussy and his favorite mouth n hnnnng you're so so good!!!

just closing your eyes until your jiho finishes all in your mouth!! n when he does its so much.... so thick and leaking everywhere :( your eyes watery and blinking up slowly at him so mindlessly :( n he kisses you!! with his cum leaking out the corners of your mouth and even if you can't kiss back!!! kisses you n spreads all your spit mixed with his cum over your lips n chin :( so so sweetly asking if you can take one more for him 😞😞😞😞😞

[xxstylefntsyxx]

Female Daisuke x female reader.. PLSSSSS

MY FIRST ASK FINALLY YESSS YESS HEHEHEH OFC I WILLLLLLLLLLLLLLL AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! (The scream i did running to my phone when my tablet notified me! Thank you, Anon! ) Girlie's for the girlie's! Alright, so here are the rules! Everyone got the same name cause I'm not finna rack my brain on names my poor mind will break. And also, umm, bare with me, hehehe.......

Themes: Fluffy, I'm sorry, dark themes, comfort, love before the storm, mention of death

We fell in love in Octoberzl- thats why, I love fall

You were downstairs making some coco. It was a nice fall night, and you two were restless trying to beat each other in a game of skullgirls. You came back upstairs with two simple mugs and cookies.

"Alright, baby! Are you ready to lose again? For the second time?" You asked seductively. Daisuke turned around in her chair with a pout, "Nah, uh! I didn't lose! You quiet literally cheated!"

"How do you cheat at this game, daisuke?" You asked, tilting your head slightly. She didn't know what else to say, but she stubbornly huffed a, "Fine! Have it your way! Cheater."

You came over and set down the tray, "Well we'll just have to see about that." You got over to your respected chair, putting your headphones on.

☆hour later☆

"And that's game!" You said triumphantly. Daisuke turned around with a face of pure shock, "You are so.... so! Lucky I love you." She got up to wander over to you. You were busy setting up the next game when her hands wrapped lovingly around your shoulders.

She leaned down, kissing your neck slowly, "So~ Since you won, what's for today's agenda?"

You gave her a knowing look, "Movie, Snacks and Blankets sound good, don't they?"

"You're such a dork!- What movie are we watching?"

She snuggled close to you with her hand around your upper chest. She indulged herself in a nice boob pillow while she asked endless questions about the movie you chose.

"Okay. So quite literally why didn't the dad just I don't know, believe his son. It's a world of animals! Isn't that pretty absurd already!?" She complained.

"It's littlest, dude. I'm not gonna explain it again." You said with a goofy grin. You faked a pout when her eyes met yours. But those large brown eyes that had galaxies far beyond comprehension, they got to you. Your face faltered.

Your hands fell upon her face. Swishing her little cheeks together, making her nose scrunch. You wandered why this felt familiar...

"You need to be held responsible for your crimes against me! Not tell me stuff! Hmmph!"

Oh....

Right, because you weren't at home. You were on a ship that had crashed with dangerous individuals. You two weren't hugging and laying around the house. You were holding her hand like a baby, trying to fix what was broken.

"DAI! PLEASE STAY CALM! I- I PROMISE YOU'LL BE ALRIGHT!" She looked so peaceful before. You hated when she cried. She sniffled and whined, pain set deep in her shoulder. She couldn't move much, occasionally shifting from the pain that struck her.

Stupid Jimmy, making her climb through that vent. She just wanted to help - she just wanted for Anya to be alright. Alright? No, everything was not alright!

Jimmy stood their like an idiot. Shaking with wide eyes filled with those fake crocodile tears. You were quick on your feet. Storming towards him in malice. His face didn't change when you grabbed his shirt.

You hit him once, twice, one more time before you screeched, "What did you do! What did you do to her!? Look what you've done! Look what you've DONE! YOU CAN'T FIX IT JIMMY! YOU NEVER FIX IT! YOU JEVER FIX ANYTHING! YOU WORTHLESS SACK OF HORSESHIT!"

"I can fix it!" He babbled like a baby, but you weren't having it. Your fists were raw, raining down on Jimmy with intent to kill at this point.

"You can't FIX ANYTHING! YOU'RE A FUCKING DISCRACE! YOU NEVER WANNA TAKE RESPONSIBILITY! AND NOW DAISUKE! She's-"

Shing-!

"Won't have to suffer this way no longer..." Swansea's voice broke the cries and hits from the two of you. He sat on his knees, axe in hand staring down daisukes shaking form.

"Closer your eyes, daisuke." He commanded with a rather soft voice. Shoving Jimmy aside, your hands flung to cover her body. "Swansea, no! There has to be another way! You can't-!"

"Look at her. Tell me if this is what you want? You want to be selfish and put her through pain like she's curly!? Do you think I wanna do this!? No! The answers, no! I don't want to do this Y/N! But goddammit-!" His voice elevated, but the cry of poor daisuke made his voice lower.

Your eyes shot to her, soft, scared face. Stained with a permanent expression of pain. But her eyes slowly followed up your face. Both of you shared a moment, her soft eyes tears spilling from them.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" You confessed profusely, you grabbed her hand, "We were supposed to get married, remember? Live off in a house where the ocean is a sea of crystals."

Her whines lowered slowly. Her shuffling came slow but still rather shakey. Your eyes couldn't stop-you hated this. Why you two? You two hadn't done anything wrong to Jimmy. It wasn't fair he could do this and get away.

You smiled softly, "You are my best friend, my lover. I promise I'll find you in our next life. And, we will do it all over again. This time, we won't be here. We'll live exactly like we asked, too." You kissed her forhead.

Her body convulsed into another traumatic tremble. Swansea grunted, holding the axe above his head. You couldn't watch. This was a nightmare, and you wanted it to end.

Her cries made you sick, but you bared it. Holding her soft manicured hand in yours. The blood made it sticky, and the feeling made yours run cold.

"Useless waste of sunshine. Just trying to do as your told." He said with a knot in his throat. His eyes averted from hers, "I'm sorry I couldn't be there to do my part. I'm sorry this had to happen to you."

Her last breath sounded like words in your ears. "Lo-ve-! Yo-!" Her hand once gripping yours with blood running through it. Slowly, slowly sitting to release that familiar grip. Your eyes went wide, and you sobbed. You were screaming into the air profanities and woah's. Bawling up on yourself, Swansea dropped his shoulders. His breath came quickly, looking st the floor on his hands.

Jimmy stood up, shaking with his hands in front of his chest fumbling. He left quickly through the exit to the west wing. Swansea didn't let him get away easily. He grabbed the axe, wincing when her face slid with it. He wanted to break down- but not before he ended the man who murdered his kid.

There was only one thing you could do. Sit down and just cry. Cry because you lost her. Cry because someone who everyone thought was trustable took away lives of the good. All because he was a sick individual. Vile, with heinous thoughts.

You started reminiscing. On those good days to soothe you. Holding yourself next to her, you laid down quietly. You closed your eyes, listening to the vibrations underneath the metal floors. You found her hand again.

Yours shook, grabbing it to interlock your fingers. Humming that song that she loved while her body lay still. You were trying to soothe yourself some more. Dreaming off a life you could've had.

BANG!

Oh, how you wished this hell was over. So you couod return to your perfect little daisuke. Sitting happily on the bed while she blavbed about some meta game, you would play with her for a chance, even if you didn't know much about it.

Her smile, her laugh. You await your turn. This ride of hell was tireding. You just wanted to go home.

"In another life."

In another life- I will be your girl

[happy74827]

Promises and Ballads

[Todd Ingram x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Todd notices the gloomy outlook on you, and although he’s not much help, he still attempts at making you smile.

WC: 1458

Category: Comfort

So, I decided to watch Scott Pilgrim Vs The World last night, and now I’m obsessed. It’s so chaotically good. Todd was my favorite evil ex out the seven, so ofc I had to write about him. And now, here we are.

『••✎••』

The dim glow of Todd's apartment was pierced by the vibrant colors of posters plastered on the walls. The distant sound of guitars being tuned hinted at the imminent performance of "The Clash at Demonhead." You, however, were sitting on the couch with a storm of emotions clouding your expression.

"So," Todd started, pulling you from your thoughts, "How's college life treating you?" His question was followed by the tapping of the tuning pegs as he finished tuning his bass.

"It's fine," you said, giving him a fake smile. "Nothing too special."

He turned away from the bass to face you, his eyebrows raised. "…Really? Nothing too special? I find that hard to believe, considering… well, you know. I'd expect at least a few crazy stories from you by now."

You sighed and stared into your hands as you pulled them from the sofa, a pained look on your face. You didn’t respond.

Todd let out a soft hum, then walked over and sat next to you on the sofa. He draped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close. You flinched, your breath hitching, but you didn't pull away from him.

Todd was your best friend since high school. You weren’t very popular and had a hard time making friends, but then you met Todd. Brash, stubborn, and confident Todd. He was your opposite in every way. That was probably why you both hit it off so well.

During the first few weeks in high school, Todd would get in fights. It was always something stupid. Someone would call him a chicken, and he’d hit them, or someone would insult his hair, and he would deck them in the jaw.

Eventually, after a particularly bad fight, he brought enough concern that your algebra teacher decided to dump him on you to “guide” him.

It didn’t work, obviously, as Todd just gave you hell for being a teacher's pet, but that eventually led you into being friends when he realized how little you stuck up for yourself.

It was a weird friendship, you had to admit. But it worked out.

You grew up together. Todd would skip class, and you'd help tutor him. You'd sneak out at night and see bands and shows with him, and sometimes, you'd hang out here in his apartment and watch old movies or play video games. You two were as close as you could possibly get. Well, not as close as you'd hoped you could be, but that's life, right?

"Alright, whose ass do I need to kick?" Todd asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

"What?" You asked, confused.

"Well, you were super excited last week, and now you're just a slump. I’ll go vegan-punch their asses for you, no problem." He looked into your eyes, searching them, trying to find an answer to his question.

You laughed and pushed his arm off you. "I still find it weird how you got powers just for being vegan."

"Hey,” Like on cue, his hair suddenly rose as his eyes became glowing beams of white light. "I’m not complaining. Shit’s awesome, especially since I get to kick the shit out of some people,"

As you sighed, turning away from him momentarily, his hair died down as his eyes faded back to their normal color. Despite the humor, they were filled with concern. He didn't like it when you got quiet like this. It reminded him of the old days.

He gently turned your face toward his. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Todd, I," You bit your lip, trying to think of how to word what you were feeling. "I'm going to miss this."

"Miss what? My handsome face?"

"Stupid, you mean? Yeah, but that's not what I meant." You paused and looked around his apartment, your eyes landing on the many posters of bands that hung on the wall. "This."

“The… posters?” He asked.

You shook your head and turned away from them. "No. This. Us. All of it."

He stared at you, blinking slowly. "What?"

His voice was soft, dazed. Confused

He wasn’t getting it. God, it was so frustrating. How was he this stupid? Why were you friends again?

"Friendship. I mean, our friendship. When I leave again, we won't see each other as often, and when we do, we won't be as close. You’d be… well, busy.”

His expression was blank, his eyes wide and unblinking. "That's what you're worried about?"

"I—" You opened your mouth to answer him, but you couldn't think of the words you wanted to say. You just let out a deep breath and closed your eyes.

Todd leaned in, gently placing his hand on your cheek, turning your face toward his again. Your eyes opened to look at him, confused and filled with worry.

"Don't sweat it about that stuff. We'll still be friends, alright?" His words were firm, leaving no room for argument. "I won’t let you go."

His eyes were filled with that same determination; his hand was warm on your cheek, and his hair was bristling and sticking out every which way. This was Todd. This was the boy who took on everyone, whether they were ten times his size or a hundred times more skilled than him. This was the boy who took on bullies and came out on top.

And despite all that, despite everything, you had a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. You felt like something was going to go wrong.

You didn't realize it then, but in those moments, you realized that Todd didn't see you as a friend. Not just a friend.

He didn't see you as anything less, either.

It was at that moment that he finally saw you, and you were able to see him.

He smiled, that dumb, idiotic grin he always did when he was about to do something stupid. Most situations where he smiled like this were either terrifying or amusing, depending on if you were his enemy or his friend.

"You think you can escape me that easy?" He said, his words carrying the same tone he'd use in the school hallways when someone would try to make a fool out of him. He shifted himself on the couch, leaning into your space. He was getting closer and closer. You could feel his breath on your lips.

Your heart started pounding, and your head filled with fear, excitement, and confusion. His face was so close to yours, and he was so close to your lips. You wanted to look away, but you couldn't. You were frozen in place.

"T-Todd, what—" You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn't want to let your fear out, but you could feel it. You didn't understand.

He grinned, "How can I resist a challenge?"

He moved his lips to yours, gently placing them in your mouth. He pressed them lightly, sending electricity through your veins. You felt your body start to heat up as your mind went blank.

He slowly pulled away and stared at you.

"There," he said. "That's one thing I'm going to miss about you."

"Wh-What?" You breathed out.

Todd leaned in, "Your smile."

You stared at him, dumbfounded, as your brain tried to catch up. Your mind was going a million miles a minute, but nothing made sense. You looked down, avoiding his gaze.

He grabbed your chin with his fingers, pulling your face toward him. He stared deep into your eyes.

"You don't think I see you? That I don't notice you? I'm not stupid." He placed his hand on your cheek, "Well, not that much, anyway."

"Todd, I—"

"Hey, look, you don't have to say anything, alright? Just—" He smiled softly at you, "Just go back to smiling."

Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest, but for once, you were feeling something good. Not just something, you were feeling a lot of different emotions. It was overwhelming, but you were glad for it. It was the first time in years that you felt that way.

You placed your hand on his and looked into his eyes. You nodded, "Okay."

His eyes lit up, and he smiled even brighter, which you didn't think was possible. He pulled your hand to his mouth and kissed your palm, then held it tightly. "Wanna hear me absolutely demolish this killer riff I’ve been working on? It'll blow your mind."

He went off on a tangent, talking about the music he was writing and how amazing he was, and how you had no clue what he was talking about, but that didn't matter because he was happy, and so were you.

College might be hard, but as long as you had him, everything would be fine.

[lovebillyhargrove]

***

Taking it to the next level of dumbassery. Pre-harringrove

Something weird is going on in the town of Hawkins.

It all started approximately two weeks after Billy had rolled into this swamp.

And it started with someone sticking gum on the camaro's windshield. On the driver's side.

"Probably some stupid kids." Hargrove brushed it off at the time, not giving it too much thought. It wasn't pleasant ofc, scrubbing it off, but it was just gum.

A couple of days later, however, when he came up to the camaro after school he found an

ATTENTION, THE DRIVER IS AN IDIOT

written in black capital letters on the window — surely, on his side again. Whoever it was, the bastard or the bitch used a permanent marker.

Fucking shit.

"Hey, Max? .. Got some uh .. I dunno, nail polish remover at home? Gotta clean the damn glass."

Max is throwing side glances at Billy's window and snickering all the way home. He has to roll the window down.

"Was that you? Or one of your midget friends? I swear if it is so, get ready to fucking die. I'm gonna find out, you know that, right?"

His step sister is a little gremlin, but this ..?

Not her style. Goddamn it. He'll keep an eye on her anyways.

One day, Billy steps out of the school building to find a white sheet of paper stuck under one of the windshield wipers.

How ..? What !?? A hundred fucking dollars for a fine?

He almost had a stroke.

..

Turned out, the speeding ticket was fake. Who in the world would do that — fake a fine, and .. just how? .. And why?

Billy's this close to blowing a fuse.

But that wasn't the end of it.

Another day, when Hargrove started the car and pressed the accelerator, there was a very strange sound coming from the back of it. Well, look at that — someone had attached an exhaust whistle to the exhaust pipe, and the sound it made was a

Kazoo.

Fucking nuts, that's what it is!

..

The number of times when Billy had his license plate changed? He always finds the original

PCE 235

Lying somewhere on the car or close to it, one time it was slid onto his fucking windowsill at home during the night, when he left the window a bit cracked open.

The plates that were screwed to his baby instead?

Well, it started with this

And then this and then that

Jesus fucking Christ. Someone is really on a mission to drive Billy insane, and Hargrove has absolutely no clue who's capable of all of this crafty treacherous plotting.

There's no timing to it. Some days, weeks even, are quiet, uneventful. Makes it impossible to catch the jerk red-handed.

Billy must've stepped into a pool of karmic bullshit. What is he being punished for!?

..

So, anyways, one day the sneaky douchebag puts a

FOR SALE. 1 BUCK

carton board on the windshield. It is pretty harmless, but people laugh nonetheless. Ask questions. Brian has the nerve to offer him a one-dollar note.

On an especially snowy day in winter Hargrove steps out of the house to find the camaro snowed in. Like, huge piles of snow, fucking snow mountains surrounding it. Motherfucker!

Max helps shovel the snow away. They are late for school, both get tardies.

Then things get a bit more serious. More cruel even, financially costly.

Hargrove is surprised with a slashed tyre — someone did it in broad daylight in the school parking lot!

"Yo, Tommy! Give me a haul to the nearest car repair. Some jackass has slashed a tyre on my baby. What the fuck, seriously."

And no, Hagan has no idea what is happening.

Billy wants to cry. If only he knew who it is, who he has to kill.

Some days later the driver's door gets keyed.

DICK

is carved on it. The paint is ruined.

The FUCK is going on??

For Valentine's day Hargrove is given a special heartfelt gift — empty tin cans tied to the camaro's rear and a banner

JUST ASSHOLED

Stuck to it.

Billy's losing it. What is he supposed to do for fuck's sake? Not sleep? Skip classes? Always guard his car? What on earth is happening?

***

Meanwhile, Steve is chuckling to himself "Told you all I'm stealthy like a ninja" concocting another harmless prank, just to drive that stupid annoying Californian motherfucker a tiny bit crazier.

What should it be this time ..?

***

An AU where Steve's totally in love with Billy but, naturally, won't admit it even on his deathbed, also he's totally jealous of the camaro cause Tammy was like

"Billy's gonna take me home after school today in his cool car."

And a couple of weeks later Nicole was like

"Billy's driving skills are superb, I wonder if he's actually a racer."

And then Vickie shared an opinion

"Yeah, his car is the best. The only drawback is that there is this ridge in the backseat, terribly uncomfortable."

To which Cheryl hysterically went

"You bitch, that's who he took to the movies last night instead of me!!"

*Girl fight*

And Steve's like

"Ladies, calm down, MY backseat has no ridges."

But no-one cares for the fancy beamer anymore.

***

Part 2

[midnight1nk]

actually the reason smg4 vomit meme is because the next episode is just gonna be the cast taking care of him while he’s sick but every time they look away he’s back on his computer deliriously making increasingly incomprehensible memes about how he is sick.

A sick 4 episode? Y'know what? I'M IN 🤝 it's such a good interpretation of that meme moment and honestly hilarious that out of all the things that happened to 4, this one thing is what got him. Probably something stupid.

Do these characters get sick in this universe? I mean, there have been viruses and stuff, but like a flu? And then there's a whole discussion of character death...... The best excuse I can come up with is that the universe's code had a hiccup and it affected 4. This is a digital world after all :))

I can already imagine it. Rat poison? He's fine, he'll walk it off. A bit of (code) flu? No yeah, he outright dying. And being stubborn as he is, 4 would try to tell the Crew "I'm fine, really. I just have a stuffy nose." before proceeding to cough violently. As much as they push him to get some rest, it only takes a second to look away and find him back at his desk, all while having a feverish dream. And back to bed he goes, "Nooooooooo"

If we are going to have a scene of him puking, it's just going to be the sound of the toilet flushing, him coming out of the bathroom looking pale, and someone who has been waiting outside offering him water. That's it. Preferably, I wouldn't want to have this scene only bc people do have the tendency to puke after seeing/hearing someone else do it. Besides, I would feel so bad for Luke having to make fake puking sounds for the episode. "But they've done puking before, with meme sounds" Yeah, no. It won't be the same as last time. The thing is, while we have been getting good silly episodes, there has been a part of it that's emotional and personal. For an episode like this, it would be there.

But ofc, we can have it end on a lighthearted note that as it turns out, the fever-dream-fueled memes got really popular. "Wow. I guess I should do more—" "NOOOO"

plus, narrative parallels to the IGBP arc

thanks for dropping this in my inbox!

[thecapricunt1616]

CB Porn Links P2!

NSFW 18+ ONLY - Hey ya’ll!! You seemed to like the last list I threw together so I figured I’d do another haha! Once again these are NOT fanfics, they are 18+ only porn vids from x/twitter that just remind me of the way I think CB would fuck hahaha

And again. I am not claiming these look/sound like Carmy (JAW) - BUT these align with my headcanons on how he fucks, so just use your pretty little imaginations loves!

You can find part one here

💖 Ofc he loves the bearhug position. Also- the arms towards the end?! He would looooove that!

💖 Tired morning sex w Bear ☺️

💖 2-3 cocktails would bring the rough manhandling bastard out of him, but he would eat pussy like a man starved.

💖 his fave treat is when you sit on his face.

💖 when he has the time, he loves to play the “how wet can I get you before I fuck you stupid” game.

💖 got a strong feeling Carmy just LOVES titties like all big, small, fake, natural, bouncy or saggy or perky - he loves tits. And sucking on them!

💖 aftermath of you telling Carmy he needs an “attitude adjustment”

💖 the man can be gentle!! Carmy isn’t ALL rage, (just mostly ☺️)

💖the sweet little rubs after the smacks is SO Carmy. I don’t think he’d ever bring it up himself, but if his partner loves being spanked he’s gonna go for it - but not without gently rubbing you after and plenty of ‘y’okay baby? Am I bein’ too rough?’ 💦

💖this? This would cause his brain to short circuit. You using his cock as a TOY?! Fully as your personal toy- he would bust right then and there.

💖 waking you at like 3 am after a late ass night at the restaurant, begging to fuck you and being like ‘babe c’mon I fuckin’ need you I promise you don’t have to do anything just lay here f’me yeah?’

💖 with all the chopping he does- his hands aren’t getting tired anytime soon he could go like this all night long.

💖being real he’s not the kind to sit down and watch a show so if you insisted he’d get bored and this is how it would end up any time you go to watch tv lmaooo

💖 worshipping him after a long day

💖 alphabet leg and Carmy fuck very similarly to me

[gasps-inspanish]

Notes for mini fic "The Math Isn't Mathing"

yes the JL in my au is more organized. I really really like world building, okay???

Ik Kelli is now on Young Justice in current continuity, but my YJ is based off of YJ98 and I didn’t want Kelli to be stuffed in because she deserves her own time to shine! So I made another Titans subcategory NCT style made up of Connor Hawke, Jackson Hyde, Joey Wilson, M’gann, Jaime Reyes and Kelli! I promise it makes sense in world.

There’s The Titans as a whole, and then subgroups Titans A, Titans B, and Titans West

YJ is its own separate group but falls under the young hero’s umbrella

-xx23 just means 23 years ago. Didn’t want to be too confusing and put in the actual year in the au that would be (this story takes place in year xxx2, and Kyle’s birth year is -xx21. Year 0, my anchor point, is the year Superman dies)

Bruce 100% knew Kyle’s age because he totally did research on him the second they met. He was a bit paranoid after Parallax, ofc he was gonna make sure Kyle wasn’t a threat. He’s interested bc he wants to see if today is the day everyone found out

Dick finds out Kyle’s age after Kyle shares his secret identity with Dick and the other Titans. Bruce did offer Dick his research since Dick was working with Kyle at that time (which you will see in T7) but Dick declined out of respect for Kyle’s secret Id at the time, but after knowing it he did read up on Kyle. Kyle doesn’t know Dick knew, and Dick is worried because he would rather Kyle tell ppl on his own accord but him stepping in would still make it suspicious

Yes Wally and Kyle got into a fist fight in the Hall of Justice. Ur welcome

Please know I have written down everyone’s canon birthdays and gave some to people who didn’t have one canonically. Same with middle names. I’m a mess Ikik but I love world building like this

If u would like to see I could totally share it guys-

Both Guy and Hal know Kyle’s actual age as mentioned in FaWF and the ask that led to this story being shared. I do wanna share how they found out, but I’m unsure if I will or really how to bc it adapts something that’s kind of from canon that is dark/angsty?? But my wonderfully amazing awesome beta reader did encourage me to share it so I think I will! Plus the people love Kyle angst and Kyle hurt/comfort

The plan I have for that fic is three separate storylines that like overlap? Smth with John and Guy, smth with Jess and Simon, and smth with Hal and Kyle (where Hal finds out) with an epilogue where Guy finds out?

Pls note that in Hal’s thing he is going to Gotham. I wanna play with the stupid fanon thing where Batman is like gr get out of Gotham but instead of Hal giving up and leaving, he goes in anyways and the two are forced to work on the case together and kinda start to respect each other after the whole Parallax thing? Yeah! Sorry I like yapping

“How old are you really” sounds like a vampire thing so I kept it in from my word vomit. Wally is so mad Kyle is YOUNGER than him pls save Wally

They ask his real age despite the year Kyle gives bc they don’t trust him to have given the right year. They think he made a fake year to go with his same agar and just calculated it wrong

Donna is worried that he was younger younger when they started dating but no it’s okay!

She does get teased after this for a while tho bc Kyle actually 2 years younger instead of 1

“Is it his nap time Donna”? “Hope you brought juice pouches”! All in good fun.

Kyle was 20 and Donna was four months away from being 22 when they started dating the first time

Yes Titans West is plotting

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes” is a recurring thing between Kyle and Hal 🥰🥰

-xxx2 means two years ago

Pls know that John doesn’t really care that Kyle was underaged drinking, especially since in other parts of the world it’s legal. Like he’s not Kyle’s keeper, Kyle was an adult doing this, he can make his own decisions.

Once again to reiterate! It’s not like Kyle is “in trouble” with any of the Lanterns. He is an adult and was an adult when he was doing this. They are more teasing him, and kind of not mad but like “bro wtf” that he didn’t share his real age before then.

[hwallazia]

CHIHIRO – 정우영

synopsis . in which you finally let yourself let him go during a cold rainy night

pairing . jung wooyoung & fem!reader

genre . angst (way too much), lovers to exes, non idol!au

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 0,9k

DISCLAIMER! suggestive language (a lot of bad words in here), lots of manipulation and slyness from wooyoung, cold-hearted reader, slight violence (yn smacks wooyoung’s cheek), hints of cheating.

NIC’S NOTES ofc this is based of chihiro by billie eilish. the second i listened to this song, i thought of this angsty scenario. and so i thought it’d be a great idea to put wooyoung as the protagonist bc since enemies to lovers troupe fits him so well, why don’t do it backwards? ;))) alsoo, lowercase is intentional (yep, again)

“yn, come on!” wooyoung shouted as he ran towards you desperately; breath hitching, legs trembling. the only thing he could recognize within his visual field were the ends of your dark hair flying back in goodbye, your heart already very far from his. “don’t be like that. you know this isn’t the way to fix things up.”

your leather boots splashed against the puddles of water generated by the rainy dew that announced a great storm, your hands seeking protection from the cold in the pockets of your coat. you heard wooyoung’s wet footsteps as you saw his figure getting closer to you, alerting you. you stopped dead in your tracks when he forcibly grabbed your wrist, compelling you to look at him, to look at those pleading eyes that manipulated you so much. those goddamned eyes that changed your personality so much. “don’t you fucking touch me.” you huffed sternly, shaking your arm as you tried to escape his grasp, your eyes stabbing daggers into his heart. those merry, stunning, and beaming eyes were replaced by an opaque, lightless gaze. one he’d never forget. since when did you hold so much resentment and hatred for him that you saw him that way? as if you had never loved him. as if you had never felt anything at all.

he let you go the second he understood that you were capable of punching him in the face if he even touched a minimal part of your skin. “fine, i won’t touch ya,” he raised his hands up in surrender. but still he tried to explain himself, even though he knew that he was the last person you wanted to see at the moment, “can’t we talk about this at home? it’s freezing cold out here, and you’re wearing shorts-”

“since when do you care so much?” yes, he was right, your legs quivered as your uneven breathing made your lips release condensed clouds, but you wouldn’t let him know. standing as hard as a rock, you continued, “don’t look for me neither call me anymore. i want nothing to do with you.”

wooyoung’s breath hitched and as he tried to pull himself together, he tried for one last time to convince you and mold your mind. “hey that’s a very hasty decision, don’t you think?” he paused briefly, his sigh exhaled right on your face, “yn, is this because of hana?”

the sound of her name sliding down his tongue was the straw that broke the camel’s back. after everything he had done, he really thought that this was just a little scene of yours? a little whim?

“no! it’s not because of her. it’s because of you!” you finally screamed, your heart winning over the pride that wanted to predominate in you. “you and your stupid manipulations, your excuses, and your fakeness.” your eyes threatened to water, but you wouldn't collapse. not now. “how dare you come after me and try to explain yourself after i found you with her sitting on your lap as you giggled at some of those weird ass jokes of yours.”

“oh so it is because of her,” he got closer to you, more than you would’ve allowed him, your lips being an absurd distance away. “why are you causing all of this when you could’ve just asked me?” his hand began to trail its way up to your cheek, and as soon as he cupped it, your hand slammed against his cheek loudly, pulling his figure to the left. the humidity of your hand and his face making the impact even more painful.

“you... disgusting little shit” your grossed-out expression being visible even for a blind man. “how could i have gotten involved with someone like you?” you sighed to yourself. a moment of silence drowned the conversation. wooyoung facing the ground as you stared sternly at him. but then, you decided to confess, “you know, at first i thought this was a fairytale, my most perfect fantasy. but turns out it was yours, not mine. definitely not mine.”

you resumed, “fuck, i was so blinded.” your palm landed on your forehead as you turned your body and faced up to the night sky, a couple of raindrops decorating your frozen cheeks, “this whole relationship was nothing but your slyness trying to mold my personality and mentality to your whim, wasn’t it?” you didn’t even give him a moment to respond, “who the fuck do you think you are?”

“yn. you’re hallucinating, my love. please, let’s stop all this nonsense-”

“i don’t even recognize you at all.” you spat, your frozen limbs welcoming an intrude, a strange warmness. maybe because you had said what was stuck in your throat for months. finally, you got out of that jail, that imprisoned manipulation that caused you vexation for so long.

“don’t say that. yn-” you observed as his eyes started to well up with tears, but it didn’t hurt you. not anymore. from one moment to the next, jung wooyoung’s existence stopped mattering to you. after such a long time, you became insensitive to those pleading eyes.

“don’t look at me like that. i’m not yours anymore.” you finally sentenced. “goodbye, jung wooyoung.” those were your last words to him so that you turned around and started on your way to, probably, your best friend's house, leaving behind a broken-hearted wooyoung, his eyes being similar to the thousand-yard stare as he watched the ripples of a puddle of water as the rain became heavier and heavier.

probably, you’d meet again in another life, or not. the emptiness you felt at that moment was unexplainable —you’d probably shirk it and let your drunk self take matters into its own hands. but you were sure that jung wooyoung taking your love away from you wouldn’t be so easy to forget.

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