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eyelessfaces · 7 months ago

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I don't love you like I did yesterday

poe dameron x reader

summary: it’s not because he, poe dameron, gives you more attention and affection than your own boyfriend ever will that you are in love with him — loosely inspired by this post.

warnings: angst, complicated relationships, love triangle?, mentions of marriage, break up, refusing a proposal, internal conflict, doubting your relationship, emotional infidelity? if that's a thing, alcohol consumption. reader wears a dress at some point

tags: f!reader, I don't wanna spoil too much and don't read this if you don't want to be but; mutual pining, love confessions, he fell first AND harder, fluff and,, more

word count: 5.6k

yes. mcr lyrics as a title. in 2024. I know. but don't look at me the lyrics strangely fit so,,

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

You don’t love him; you are almost sure of that.

It’s not because you laugh at every single one of his stupid, lame jokes made just for you to laugh and because you blush everytime you catch him staring at you from across the room that you love him.

It’s not because he, Poe Dameron, gives you more attention and affection than your own boyfriend ever will that you are in love with him.

It’s not because your boyfriend blames you for being too close to him that you are.

It’s not because you wish it would have been Poe down on one knee proposing to you that it is the reason you told Kass you’re not ready for this yet.

And it’s not because you question your situation every single night that it means you have to change anything about it. You should be happy with Kass. You are.

Yet, you wish you were certain of all of that.

It has been two days already, and the guilt keeps eating away at you, like a bacteria gnawing at your feelings, particularly starving for the reasonable part of you that knows you said no for your own well being.

Kass makes it worse; the dark glances thrown at you whenever you bump into each other during the day and his lame excuses to ditch you whenever you want to talk to him make you feel like a monster, and though you know that it is exactly the way he wants you to feel, you can’t help it.

The situation is hard to swallow and bury deep in the back of your mind when you’re out on missions, and though you rarely ever get distracted because you know how important attention and concentration is in your job, the whirlwind of thoughts has been floating over the surface, and your focus has been off, you know it. And you’re not the only one who knows it.

Your head turns when you feel a light nudge at your arm, having dismissed Poe’s presence in your peripheral vision due to your distraction. His eyebrows raise when you look at him, and he gazes at you like the mist of your thoughts is still present over your face and he wants to shake you awake.

“You alright?” he asks before you look back at your squadron wrapping the mission equipment, setting it back in the ships.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, burying your hands in your pockets. You should feel alright. The mission went well despite your clear lack of attention, and you’ve given your life to the Resistance at this point, so you should be thankful that you succeed in most things you do in its name, right now even, considering the situation.

Poe looks down on the floor, kicking away a small rock there that dribbles down the hill. “You've always been an awful liar” he mutters under his breath, not buying it.

“Right” you scoff, your head dropping to shake it. He looks back up at you and you can feel his insistent gaze upon you, which eventually makes you break. “I don’t wanna bother you with my stupid problems”

He snorts, “Come on, you know I’m always here to listen to your stupid problems” he says playfully, nudging your arm with his elbow again. “That are often not that stupid actually” he adds.

There’s a silence settling between the both of you, and right before Poe aborts and figures you don’t wanna talk about it, you sigh. “Kass proposed.”

“Oh” the sound slips from his mouth, and accurately represents his surprise, his voice dropping a bit from the shock. He doesn’t know what to say, not really. This situation would have been on the list of things he would have never expected or even considered to happen.

This eventuality had never, ever occurred to him somehow, not yet, and now, all at once, the fear creeps in and becomes real; he is going to have to watch you get married, going to have to sit there amongst guests, he’s going to have to watch you be happy with someone else than him.

But he wants you to be happy, with or without him, so he will watch. It isn’t like he has the choice, anyways.

He lightly clears his throat, trying to dismiss the tight knot starting to form there, and smiles. The worst thing about it is the fact that it is genuine, he is truly happy for you. You deserve this.

Maybe Kass doesn’t, though. He doesn't deserve you. You’re too good for a half assed mechanic like him that, from a professional point of view, fucks up too often to still be there; but from what Poe hears around, it tends to be the same on other levels than just the professional one.

“Well, that’s great! Congrats,” his half cheerful voice wavers a little, but you don’t seem to notice as your lips form a polite smile that slightly turns perplexed, uncomfortable. “What’s wrong about that” he asks now, concerned when he sees your frown.

Your teeth graze your bottom lip. “I said no.”

“Oh” he watches as you raise your eyebrows, nodding. “I’m sorry” he adds. “I mean–”

“Yeah” you exhale.

“Why?”

That is the real question. Why? Why wouldn’t you want to marry your boyfriend you are supposed to be in love with? Why did you feel so awful at the feeling of his hand over yours when he shot the question?

“I don’t–” you start, thoughts running around your head. You’re not really sure about what you want to say, you’re not even precisely sure why you said no. There were so many reasons, but you couldn’t pick the exact one. “I think I’m not ready.”

Poe doesn't say anything. You stay there upon the small hill you watch your respective teams from. They’re almost done putting everything back.

You think you want to cry. You’re not really sure why. You think you want to dig a hole in that hill and stay hidden there for the rest of time.

“Poe, I don't think I wanna spend the rest of my life with him.” you mutter, looking ahead as if your confession would make you feel less guilty if you didn’t look your friend in the eye. “Is that wrong?” you ask as you turn to him.

“Yeah, well I don’t blame you” he scoffs, and you do too, knowing how Poe feels about Kass.

You should have known, it should have been a sign. Poe is kind, compassionate, and when he doesn’t like someone, it is because he has reasons to.

“That’s not wrong.” he continues, his tone serious now. “It would have been wrong if you said yes even though you knew damn well you didn’t want to marry him” he nods. “It's not the end of the galaxy if you said no. He'll get over it”

“Yeah” you sigh. “He keeps acting like it's my fault”

“Really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in astoundment. He shouldn’t be surprised.

“Yeah. He avoids me and sends me death glares like I murdered his family or something” you snort, realizing the stupidity of it all now that you say it out loud. Kass has always been somehow childish, but this exceeds everything you could expect from him.

“Wow okay” Poe shakes his head, a small exhale of desperation escaping his mouth before he speaks again. “Well, you know how I feel about him, sweetheart.”

“I know” you confirm, sending him a weak smile. He answers you with a pinched one, and as your squad finishes their tasks and starts to gather together, Poe reaches out and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before turning to join them.

He turns back to you quickly, “You know what? My squadron is having drinks on Coruscant tonight to have some fun before we leave for the week. You should join us”

You nod and watch him go, and feel the need to take one fat fucking breath before eventually joining everyone else.

—

Even though it is almost dry by now, the stain over your dress is still ridiculously visible. If the girl that had spilled it over you earlier hadn’t profusely apologized for it you would have most likely have had a go at her because of the awful mental state you were in – you were yourself surprised to notice how blatantly dismissive and weary you had been of that incident – it had been nothing compared to the past few days you just had.

Poe looks over at you, your gaze planted onto your glass of Black Hole as your fingers absentmindedly drum against the table; your choice of drink says it all, and though you might want to get properly drunk, Poe is strictly against it if it means you plan on moping all night long. He finishes his drink, planting a hand over your shoulder as he leans closer to you.

“Wanna go dance now?” Poe shouts in your ear, trying to overlap the loud music blasting. You scoff and shake your head, “I’m not really in the mood”

“That's exactly why we need to,” he affirms with his usual charismatic grin as he takes a hold of your hand and pulls you to the middle of the room anyway. “Come on!” you give in when you realize he’s not really asking, dragging you through the crowd. “You know I'm leaving tomorrow morning, you owe me a dance”

“Okay” you laugh as you put your hands over his shoulders, his coming to rest at either side of your waist.

You move stiffly at first, your eyes rolling playfully when Poe gives way more energy into it than you do, and despite yourself, you start to smile, and make an effort to match his energy.

Poe spins you around, his movements confident as he tries to cheer you up. "Just follow my lead, okay?" he says, his voice warm and encouraging. He twirls you under his arm smoothly, and you can’t help but laugh as he dips you dramatically, catching you with ease; he’s intimidatingly close to your face before he leans to your ear. “See? I’m not an awful dancer”

“Is there even something you’re not good at at this point,” you rhetorically ask as you both stand straight again, the movement making your head spin a little because of the alcohol.

“Following orders, probably” he jokes, still swaying with you. You laugh and let your forehead rest over his shoulder, your eyes shutting as you take a deep breath; it might have been the only moment in those past few days where you genuinely let go of all your worries.

“Hey, we should go outside, it’s hot in here. And loud” Poe proposes as you both still sway, his hand gently cradling your back.

“Sure” you nod with a smile. “Wait– I’ll join you there, I’m gonna get us drinks”

There’s a grin plastered over his face and a glint in his eyes as he glances at you when you join him outside, your drinks in hands. The cool night air is a welcome change from the overwhelming warmth inside the cantina.

“What?” you scoff, looking down at yourself, trying to figure out the reason behind his amused expression.

“Nothing” he shrugs off, taking his drink from you, but not before you catch the way his eyes linger on you.

“It’s the stain, isn’t it” you whine and sigh as you pull at the fabric of your dress to observe it. “Didn’t realize it looked that stupid”

He giggles as his mouth is still full of his drink. “It’s stylish” he admits with a cheeky grin.

You scoff and roll your eyes, your giggle fading as you both take a sip of your drinks, the silence between you comfortable as the muffled hum of the cantina’s activity buzzes just behind you. Then, out of nowhere, just as you’re about to talk again, Poe breathes out your name, his expression changing, becoming more serious as you glance at him expectantly.

“I’m in love with you.” he blurts out, like words are falling out of his mouth from being held there for too long.

You huff out a laugh. “No,” you laugh, the taste of your drink still warm in your throat. You frown a bit when you notice he doesn't waver, doesn't flinch, doesn't drop his expression to admit this is some kind of joke now that he knows it's not working on you.

“Yes I am” he declares, as serious as he is when he needs to be in his job.

You chuckle, still not fully believing what he's saying. “Are you drunk Poe?”

“Wha– no– no I’m not” he frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in earnest. “I mean it. I'm in love with you.” he affirms, his eyes searching yours with a seriousness that makes your heart skip a beat.

You pause, taken aback by the tone of his voice – he's sincere, he's not playing around. “You can’t.”

“I know.” he declares with a nod, his gaze never leaving yours. “I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore” he admits as his expression softens. “I don’t want this to ruin our relationship” he says, his voice calmer now. “And I know you can’t feel the same” he nods, “And that’s okay.”

You pinch your lips together. You're not sure what to say. You nod eventually, acknowledging it all, processing his declaration. “Well” you say finally, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “I, uh, I’ll go get another drink.”

Your glass is still mostly full.

Poe nods, swallowing with difficulty as he watches you turn and head back inside.

The sounds of laughter as you enter the cantina again make you sick to your stomach.

—

This went awful. He didn’t expect any less. He didn’t expect anything in the first place; his impulsiveness finally got the best of him.

Having to swallow it down and play it like it didn’t happen felt more humbling than every time he has had to admit he made a mistake. Jessika’s story about the maintenance issues with her X-wing is slowly starting to blur, and Poe isn’t even sure she’s still on that topic of that – at this point – one sided discussion, as he can’t help but glance over at you, talking to Karé until he eventually realizes you aren’t there with him anymore.

“Poe!” Jessika scolds him, making him turn back to her. She sighs, “You’re not even listening”

“Sorry” he apologizes, looking around the room to figure out if you’re still there. “I gotta go, keep that story for later” he nods, patting her shoulder before turning away.

“I just finished telling it,” she huffs out in disbelief, Poe’s repeated apology fading with the music as he disappears through the crowd.

You’re not in the cantina, not anymore. Karé tells him you went out for fresh air, and he finds you on the flight of stairs on the side of the building, hidden from everyone.

"I was looking for you," he halts– you're crying; you're there, sitting on the stairs, looking up from where you were hiding your face in your hands crying. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice wavering with surprise; he thought you were having a good night despite everything, having fun with Karé, he thought he had been able to make you forget about your problems for a moment. But no, and he obviously knows what’s wrong, because he managed to fuck it all up by confessing his feelings for you without thinking about it twice.

You pinch your lips, trying to repress new tears as you wipe away the ones rolling down your face. "Nothing," you mumble, shaking your head. "It's alright."

Poe sighs softly, walking up to you and sitting down with you.

He softly nudges your shoulder with his own, “You're rocking that stain,” he says, a small grin over his face. “For what it’s worth, you could even rock a First Order suit, so,” he smiles as he watches you laugh between sniffles. “You don't have to worry about that.”

He sighs, and his tone grows more serious. "I'm sorry I said everything I said. I shouldn't have burdened you with my feelings" he admits. His voice is filled with regret. He should have kept that for himself, for now anyway. “I was caught up in the moment and I didn’t realize it would hurt you more. It was stupid. It was unfair to you." his voice weakens. He looks back at your face. You blink your tears away silently. “I do realize it was possibly the worst moment I could choose to tell you this”

Poe gently wipes your tears away, before they can reach the bottom of your face.

“I don’t expect anything back from you, you don’t have to worry about that. This doesn’t have to change anything about us”

He kisses your cheek before leaving.

—

If you had to point out positive points about your indirect fight with Kass following his proposal, the fact that you weren’t living with him would be one of them.

The silence in your quarters alone was surely more bearable than the silence that would fill the space if he were there with you, you were sure of that.

And even if it’s been three days already since you rejected his proposal, you have barely talked to him despite going out of your way to try to; he has been hurt by your rejection, and he is keen on making you understand.

You can’t help but wonder if you would have been happier if you had said yes; maybe it would have been easier and maybe you wouldn’t feel so bad even though you still wouldn’t want to marry him, even if it is exactly the way Kass wants you to feel. Maybe saying yes would have been the right decision, after all, and maybe you would be set about your feelings for good with the prospect that you would allegedly spend the rest of your life with him.

Then there's Poe, his words.

Poe and his words that keep rolling around your head over and over again no matter what you’re doing and no matter what time of the day it is; those about the confession of his love towards you, and those that assured you that Kass would get over your rejection, that it’s not the end of everything, not the end of your relationship with him even if right now, it seems like a deadlock.

And almost as if it was staged, Kass steps through your door.

“Hey,” he speaks, hands in his pockets. You repeat the same thing quietly, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything, apologize maybe. He looks around your place before chuckling, pointing and walking over to the table. “It’s just– I forgot my gloves last time I came here and I need them”

“Oh, so that’s it.” you snort darkly, following him close.

“Yeah, that’s it.” he mutters nonchalantly as he picks up the pair. “What do you even mean” he frowns as he turns back at you, shoving his gloves in his jacket pocket.

“I mean you've been avoiding me all week and you think it's okay to casually come here just to pick up your stupid pair of gloves?”

“Well, they’re still mine, so” he shrugs. “And again, what do you want me to do”

You frown. “I don’t know, maybe apologize for your attitude for these past few days first. You’ve been childish”

“I’m childish? You’re the one who’s not ready for marriage.”

You chuckle in disbelief, “Yeah well, I’m sorry for not wanting assured long term with someone that behaves the way you do.” you say, looking at him in the eyes though you would rather be looking everywhere but here at the moment.

“You know,” you start, readjusting your position onto your feet. “I’ve been wondering, asking myself all of those questions, what was wrong with me for rejecting you.” he looks at you, hand still stuck in his pocket, waiting for you to make your point.

“And that’s what you wanted, right? But the one thing I really asked myself was ‘Why did he even propose’, because you don’t even care that much about me, so I don’t understand” you shake your head. “You shouldn’t have asked the question if you weren’t ready for the other answer”

He sighs, eyebrows raising slightly as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have asked at all, you’re right.” he scoffs. “I realized that, and I should have realized when we started to drift away” you frown softly, waiting for him to continue. You’re not sure what he truly means beyond that. “I asked you to marry me to be sure”

“Sure of what”

He chuckles and huffs out your name like what he means to say is evident; “You’re in love with Poe” his eyes soften, his expression relaxing as yours hardens. “Don’t try to tell me otherwise or I’ll go crazy” he laughs nervously.

“Look, I get it. He looks pretty damn close to perfect. But you should have done something about it. I shouldn’t have been the one to realize it.” he says. You sigh softly, taken aback. “This is why I’ve been avoiding you. To try to come to terms with it. Accept it.”

Knowing this is the reason Kass proposed somehow makes it simultaneously better and worse. But he’s right; he’s fucking right, you’re in love with Poe and that is exactly why you were crying on those stairs the night before Poe left for his mission, maybe it is time to face it for good and to stop trying to convince yourself that you’re just confused because of everything that has been happening in your relationship lately.

“I’m sorry” your voice is poisoned by guilt. If it feels awful for you, it must be even worse for him. He scratches his forehead awkwardly, not really knowing what to say to you. “I tried to deny it to keep it fair for you. But I think you’re right.” admitting it to him, the man you’re supposed to be with and have feelings for feels even worse than having to realize it yourself. “I’m sorry Kass.”

Kass pinches his lips in a defeated smile, “I can’t hold you back.” he huffs out in evidence. “He is too” he adds after a pause. “In love with you, I mean. It’s so blatantly obvious”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I know”

“So you can work this out” he declares with a weak smile. “I won’t be an asshole about it” he mumbles. “I should be angry but I’ve tried to accept it for a while.”

You nod, somehow grateful he is so understanding, feeling sorry that it’s been so transparent for him for so long. Not everyone would let it play like this. "Thank you, Kass."

He nods in return before sighing deeply, the weight of the past few days lifting slightly from his shoulders. “I wish you well. I mean it”

You nod again, tears welling up in your eyes. “You too.”

Your heart tightens when his look lingers over you before he turns away and exits your quarters; both relief and guilt weigh over you, and the silence that fills your room now feels much different than before.

—

You don’t love him; you are sure of that. It feels wrong and even though you still feel some sort of affection towards him, you’re not sure you can be friends anymore given how you left things off.

On the other side, when Poe hops off his X-Wing ladder after a week of being away, you don't know how to act around him anymore. You don’t know if you should go ahead and tell him everything you’ve ever wanted to tell him or if you should just pick the opposite option and avoid him as much as possible to try to ease your conscience a little.

And you do. You busy yourself with work as much as possible, avoiding running into him as much as possible, but eventually, he doesn’t really give you a choice.

“Are we okay? You didn’t even welcome me back. It’s been four days” it hasn’t even been twenty seconds since the meeting ended; the meeting you spent all your time trying to focus on instead of him.

His stupid flight suit is opened in a way that reveals his gray tank top and lets the chain around his neck slightly peek, and suddenly nothing about the First Order supply depot infiltration matters anymore.

“We are. I was busy” you affirm – you’re technically not lying. Though you were keeping yourself busy on purpose.

“I bet you were”

You frown. “Hey what do you m–”

“Kass talked to me.” he dodges.

“Oh” your voice drops, the idea of that scene so unnatural. “What did he say”

He shrugs slightly. “I think you know”

That’s a good thing they talked, somehow, no matter how much the idea terrifies you. It lifts a weight off your shoulders to know you won’t have to explain to Poe how you left things off with Kass, because you would almost rather get interrogated by the First Order than have to think about it again. “He was pretty mature about it, I’ll give him credit for that.” Poe affirms with a grin, causing you to huff out a laugh. “He also said he's resigning from the Resistance. ‘Says it has nothing to do with you, he's been thinking about it for a while” he nods with a pinch of his lips.

“Oh, okay” your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, ships will suddenly do better magically”

He snorts. “I’m just glad I never let him take care of mine. I think Jess was complaining about that the other day” you laugh, and he smiles at you endearingly as he watches you. “So, are we okay?” he asks more seriously, though a faint smile lingers over his face.

“Yeah, yeah, we are.” you nod, weakly smiling back at him. “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks” you admit as he gives you an empathetic smile in response.

“I know what I want but I don’t know if I’m ready,” you eventually declare cautiously, not wanting to hurt him or make him feel like you're trying to push him away. “It has all gone so fast and I think I want things to slow down a bit.” he nods understandingly before being obliged to turn when someone in the briefing room calls his name; he holds his hand up to have them wait and rests that same hand over your shoulder when he turns back to you, his gaze holding yours.

“Look– I don’t want you to jump right into this if you’re not a hundred percent sure about it.” he declares with as much conviction he has when he fights for what’s right.

“This is my thing– to jump head first into everything. That's why I acted the way I did the other night. And it was stupid considering the situation and some part of you probably hates me for it somehow so you have to be smarter about this” he insists. “And I know you will be. And even if it’s in one week or one year or five, I can handle it”

“Okay,” you mutter feebly, his firm gaze over you making your stomach flutter.

He turns back and glances at the person who was calling for him earlier, turning back to you. He hesitates, looking like he wants to say more but is unsure if he should.

“Alright. I got stuff to take care of” he eventually says with a faint sigh, like being teared out of that conversation with you physically hurts him.

“Okay Commander” you grin teasingly. He smiles and kisses the top of your head, your hand instinctively resting over his arm despite your decision to maintain some distance for the moment.

"You know where to find me if you need anything," he says quietly, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer before he steps away.

You’re still not sure what you really want as you watch him walk away, sending easy smiles to his peers as he reviews details with them for the next mission.

You think about it all over again, as you remain here in the back of the room, leaning against the wall; the way he looked at you, the understanding in his eyes, his patience and willingness to wait – it all seems so easy with him that jumping right in suddenly doesn’t make you so afraid anymore.

—

The sky isn’t particularly clear tonight. One could have picked a more scenic place to come rest to, one where clouds wouldn’t be covering D’Qar’s two moons like a thin, old veil ripped to shreds.

Poe turns at the unexpected sound of boots ruffling against the grass, a small smile growing over his face when you grunt softly as you sit down next to him.

“You lied when you said I’d know where to find you, because I’ve looked for you everywhere before finally finding you out there” you sigh softly, drawing a laugh out of him, his eyes crinkling softly.

He shrugs, “You still found me, so I technically didn't lie” he says with a smile.

“You've got a point,” you huff out, settling beside him. The air is cool, cooler than it has been those past few days. You can’t help your lips turning into a smile as Poe's face softly glows in the faint light of both moons, his gaze gentle as he looks over at you.

His eyes twinkle with amusement when he talks again, interrupted when you shift to press your lips to his, his words quickly lost on both of you. His voice fades into a small sigh against your mouth as his hand immediately, almost instinctively cups the side of your face. Your hands grip the lapel of his shirt tightly, gently pulling him closer to deepen the kiss; Poe’s chuckle vibrates against your lips as you pull away, a slight flush visible over his cheeks.

“What is this?” he asks amused, the look of surprise genuine over his face. This goes against everything you told him you wanted with him for now.

“This is me being smarter about this, being the bigger person.” you affirm in an attempt to sound confident, but you’re still slightly out of breath, your heart racing.

Poe looks at you with a teasing, feigned impressed expression before he goes in and kisses you back, the press of his lips soft yet firm against yours.

Everything around you seems to fade away as you make out for a beat, losing yourselves in this, the soft breeze of the evening tickling both of your faces though your face heats up even more when his thumb traces your cheek.

When he finally pulls back, Poe's hand is quick to find your own, his fingers fiddling and lacing with yours, his gaze on you still intense. “So much for going slow, huh?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, fuck that” you reply with a grin, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

You both fall silent for a while; it is rare for Poe Dameron to not run his mouth for longer than a few minutes, but the back and forth of his thumb over your hand and your head leaning over his shoulder seems to be enough for him at this moment.

You shatter the silence the moment the question crosses your mind. “What would you have done if I actually married him?”

He takes a deep breath, like the weight of the question takes a toll on him.

He smirks, “This would have probably made me join the First Order” he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood. You huff out a laugh.

“Honestly?” he asks, his tone serious now. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t really know. What would have been the best option? The least worst? “I don’t know. But I would have skipped the wedding for sure.” you softly smile at him with a look of compassion, momentarily rendered speechless by his revelation.

He pinches his lips in a weak, beaten smile as he clearly pictures the scene in his mind again, just the way he did when you announced to him that Kass had proposed before eventually telling him you had refused. “Sorry. it would have hurt my poor loverboy heart way too much” he scoffs light heartedly though it’s barely a joke, just the truth.

“Well, next time I get married you’ll be the first person I invite” you promise with a light nudge at him, your hand reassuringly squeezing his.

“Next time huh?” he retorts with a playful smile, one that you mirror before the gentle push of his lips renders you breathless again. “Not if I invite you first sweetheart,” he jokes with one last kiss, your laugh barely audible.

Poe’s thumb traces circles on the back of your hand when he notices your gaze is there now, a faint smile remaining over your face. “Hey” he calls, urging you to look up at him. “One day at the time, okay?” he cocks his head forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

There’s no rush with him, no doubt, just the certainty that whatever happens, it will seem like the easier thing in the world;

Because you love him; you are sure of that.

—

any and every comment is greatly appreciated!!

star wars taglist: @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly @pigeonmama

also tagging people who seemed interested in this from the post related to this, please ignore me if you actually don't care<3 @lotusbxtch @piptoost @klillaah @lounilu @moonpascal

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palmettoshenanigans · 4 months ago

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I fucking- I can't find it right now, but whichever one of you motherfuckers said Andrew's 'lack of control' was actually just intentionally calculated releases of pressure, that he was always in control when he lashed out because he lashed out in very specific and measured degrees - every single 'too far' was always 'just enough', its just no one else saw the raging volcanic inferno brewing just beneath the floorboards cus they were too distracted by how ear piercing the sound of the tea kettle going off was-

You're so sexy and I love you, but I wanna respond to you in spirit cus I can't find your post babes

We love 'biblically accurate' and 'devil's sacrament' as religious phrases yea? Well, my favorite (aside from 'heated fellowship', a black christian euphemism for fucking nasty) happens to be to 'know' or more specifically to 'know biblically', another word/phrase for fucking someone nasty.

stay with me this is going somewhere i promise pack a bag if you must

The interpretation I was raised with was that sexual intimacy was so vulnerable and exposing of one's most inner authenticity (that which apparently only God had such access to) that sex could make someone Know and See you the way Christ did (yadda yadda, "only fuck other Christians cus they'll be saved and sanctified enough to honor that blessing", yadda yadda) ANYWAY

THE POINT IS

You ever have someone in your life who just,,, saw you? Like, they could take one look at you and just Intuit Through The Vibes that something was up? Like they could just feel your energy and knew what to do or say or whatever? The kind of person who could walk into a room where you're minding your own business, doing something mundane, and they take one cursory scan of your posture and immediately ask "What's wrong?" like,,, what??? why do you ask??? what do you mean 'you can tell', I'm not fucking doing anything???

The kind of being seen for who you are that just leaves you feeling kinda exposed and tender? The kind of thing that leaves you bereft and yearning if you've never experienced it before (or had but lost it) because it feels like everyone only likes different mirages of you?

Andrew and Neil are so Relationship Of All Time because they seemed to See and Know each other like that even before they started locking lips on rooftops.

When Neil said "I want to see you lose control", i'm imagining Andrew probably felt so naked and flayed because everyone assumed he was perpetually losing his grip. On his anger, on his sanity, on reality, on his control. But like,,, Op's Spirit Of Post Long Lost, you were so fucking right. Every bit of Andrew's behavior was carefully calculated and intentionally released packages of what was his True Inner Turbulence that he would never dare release out into the open because that's not a target he's willing to give anyone a chance at aiming for.

Out of control? Andrew hasn't been that since he was probably a tween.

But Neil had never been fooled. From cigarettes and airport pickups to cigarettes and rooftop altercations, not once had he fallen for the mirage.

Without ever having needed to touch him in that way, Neil Knew Andrew. Biblically.

And that's why Andrew simply had to engage him in heated fellowship.

#my religious trauma may have left me with a lot of issues #but it left me with two gifts #one: an obsession with religion and god as aesthetic themes for my writing #and two: a relentless ability to view Andreil through the eyes of worship and devotion #anyway this was a love letter to whomever wrote that original post about andrew's self control #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil

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cxffecoupx · 30 days ago

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love languages: jeon wonwoo

jeon wonwoo x reader fluff warnings: mentions of food, mentions of being attacked while playing games wc: 651 author's notes: will forever support the gamer!wonwoo agenda. i actually wanna play games with him and seungcheol😔. also, trying to finish posting this series for the '96 line before i change my theme for a winter event (i hope i get done w jihoon's tomorrow.) hope you like it!

acts of service:-

wonwoo loves silently. he might not always say it out loud (but mind you, he does — he does when he feels like his heart will explode if he doesn't say it) but he expresses it in ways that melts your heart. he shows his love when he kisses you on your forehead when you sleep in on day-offs, before heading to make you breakfast (well, attempting to). he shows his love when he stops you in the middle on your walk to tie your shoelaces, or pulls you across him so he's the one walking towards the road-side. he shows his love by restocking all your favourite candies and drinks and fruits when they're over, or when you're nearing your shark week. it's his love in the way he makes you an album of all the pics of you he's taken while you weren't noticing. he doesn't say it all out, but you can see it in the efforts he puts in for you, and that's more than enough for you.

"we might need to go grocery shopping; we're out of banana milk..." your voice traces off as you open the fridge and notice a tray filled with the item you just mentioned. wonwoo hugs you from the back as he nuzzles into your neck, "i knew you'd say that, so i bought them the other day itself."

quality time:-

another way wonwoo expresses love is by trying to be with you as much as he can. weekends are days for you both to relax together, even if that means you're on the opposite sides of the couch, one reading a book and one watching videos on their phone. he lovingly indulges in your routines — silently accepting his fate when you drag him for skincare, humming songs to keep you company as you clean up the kitchen, massaging your head on wash days. when he's playing games and you're somewhere around, he instinctively pulls you into his lap, saying something along the lines of, "you help me play better." so now you're on his lap, playing with and tugging at his hair while he wins games.

wonwoo silently watches you as you gather a few things and get ready for your bath. you turn around to look at him, "hey, i'm going to take a bath." he smirks before standing up. "mind if i join?"

playing video games together:-

if wonwoo is asked, 'what are the two things he loves the most?' he'd probably reply with 1) games, and 2) you. so even though playing games together comes under quality time, it's so special to wonwoo; it's like his own multiverse of madness. It was a surprise to him, when you'd first told him you were interested. he almost jumped from joy when he actually processed it. from then on, it was a joint project to help you clear the levels; sometimes he wouldn't even let you play because 'its too difficult, I'll do this for you.' always plays on your team because he wants to be there for you when you need help, but once he understood that you're good on your own, you started competing against each other (you winning over him ended up turning him on, and you had to deal with it, but that's a story for another time). he also gives your characters names that match with his — GAM3 BO1 and GAM3 G1RL (will get ready to physically fight anyone who's already taken the name).

"wonwoo!! i'm being attacked!" you yell at the top of your voice. wonwoo rushes his character over to where you were getting attacked and uses his special skill, the shield (one he bought especially for you), to help you regain health and get into form. but just as you begin to play, wonwoo says: "i'll complete this level for you, love. you just sit back and look pretty."

#seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen × reader #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen jeon wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #articles.ris

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tojiscrack · 27 days ago

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𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑

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

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

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

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

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

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

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

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

"'cause it's rude!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she faced you with sharp, narrowed eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you raised a brow. "kento said —"

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

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

he had unexpectedly gone on:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————

Dear Y/n L/n,

I hope my email finds you well.

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

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

Regards, Mr Nanami

———————————

you scowled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you watched nobara carefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"are you and kamo an item?"

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

"HUH?"

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

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

and nobara...

nobara looked beyond offended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yuji frowned. "megumi's not a girl —"

"said no one ever," you coughed.

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

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

almost.

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

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

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

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

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

you gestured over to kamo's table.

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

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

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

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

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

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

chad raised a hand; kamo did nothing.

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

you returned his look with a warm smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your expression had shifted to one of delight.

"and you agreed?"

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

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

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

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

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

kamo raised a brow at you.

"friend of a friend?" he repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<kamotionless's student3

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was settled.

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

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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

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

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

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

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

you were bored.

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

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

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

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

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

"please?" you tried again.

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

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

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

you blinked in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

certainly not you.

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

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

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

kamo stared at you, inert and idle.

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

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

not that you'd ever tell her that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

toge shrugged. "sure."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"megumi!"

the video ended abruptly.

kamo looked at you expectantly, brow raised.

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

kamo shrugged.

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

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

almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"no idea," he finally replied, untroubled.

you furrowed your brows at him, unimpressed.

"that was anti-climactic."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"malakai," you stated confidently.

kamo rolled his eyes, his shoulders deflating.

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

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

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

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

"define 'wild'."

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

what even defined 'wild' in this context?

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

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

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

"so... you and tog—"

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

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

"still!"

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

you looked around again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

he averted his gaze, a silent movement of defeat.

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

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

"what about you and i?"

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

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

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

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

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

because kamo seemed just fine.

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

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

and maybe it wasn't.

or perhaps it was.

you weren't so sure anymore.

he was the first to break the tense silence.

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

"yeah..." you mumbled, dazed.

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

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

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

"why are you —"

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

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

"i —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"oi, mermaid."

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

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

"you answered though —"

"— and stop trying to act smart —"

"— it wasn't an act —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i'm taking it to my grave."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hey sir!"

"hi mr gojo."

"afternoon, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru broke the fourth wall with a grimace.

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

"gojo?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"but i was considering it."

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

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

with a smiley face at the end, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru threw him a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"me too."

"yeah, same."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you watched him leave with furrowed brows.

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

arguably, that was exactly what he did.

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

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

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

you glared at him. "you —"

"o-kay! moving on: kinematics!"

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

your own patience frayed further with every passing second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a trauma response, you decided, shivering.

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

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

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

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

"you picked your seat," satoru reminded him.

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

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

"but you only moved one person, sir!"

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

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

your eyes found kamo's.

he didn't look too bothered.

you felt annoyed on his behalf regardless.

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

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

"but —"

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

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

your classmates began collectively speaking:

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

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

"what the hell?"

"the CDE needs to see this —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and you did.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

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

"yeah."

"yeah, thanks gojo!"

"i call shotgun, losers."

"no."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he laughed at that.

heartily, even.

it only served to anger you some more.

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

"watch it," megumi mumbled.

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

satoru continued as though he hadn't heard him:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hey!" satoru scowled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"megumi... are you defending me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

all of you froze.

nobara was the first to break the silence.

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

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

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

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

mock offence, almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was another frame.

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

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

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

you remembered that day like it was yesterday.

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

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

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

you were failing, and threw him a sharp look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru shrugged carelessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he could tell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

megumi did not look at you when he responded:

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

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

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

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

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

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

swim practice.

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

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

too late.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

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

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

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

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

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

the boy in question furrowed his brows at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tsumiki's brows has raised significantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she nodded regardless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he was now your tutor in math.

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

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

but that hadn't been it at all.

she'd been wrong.

it all made sense.

"tsumiki...?"

ah, she'd forgotten to respond.

she blinked up at him in realisation.

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

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

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

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

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

and yet...

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

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

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

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

she had to be certain.

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

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

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

kamo's expression had turned stony.

"no thanks —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tsumiki sighed and turned to kamo with a gentle smile.

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

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

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

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

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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

"how is that gonna help us survive?"

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

megumi glared down at your bindle.

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

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

it was humiliating.

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

that'll show them.

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

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

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

megumi was beyond unimpressed.

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

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

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

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

you rubbed your forehead with your arm in relief.

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

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

you raised your brows at him.

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

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

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

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

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

"no, don't."

"okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was too late to do anything about it now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he continued anyway:

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

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

it made your eyes sting and burn even more.

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

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

because you were dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N?!"

"MEGUMI?!"

"MEGUMI AND Y/N —"

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

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

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

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

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

for a moment, none of you spoke.

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

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

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

all because of satoru and that stupid camera of his.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

next chapter :)

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

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

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

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

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 :)

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suzukiblu · 2 months ago

Text

. . . anyway LISTEN I told 'yall November was gonna be "obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU" month, and I really did not INTEND to post my daily words for it again this year but also, like, fuck it, we ball. No promises I will update EVERY day this time around but again: fuck it, we ball. ( also uhhhhh I've been writing this fic kinda-sorta-semi out of order lately but there is still a significant chunk of word count I'd already written that I would've pre-gamed and posted YESTERDAY if I'd thought I was gonna be doing this, sooooo hope nobody minds us kickin' off the month with like an extra 5.9k on top of the 1.6k of obligatory sugar that I ACTUALLY wrote today behind this here cut? yes? no?? Bueller???? )

get sugared, Super-boytoy. Tim, you just . . . you just do your future-supervillain best over there, buddy. you just do what you can with yourself. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I wanted to,” Tim says again, and Kon glances away and bites his lip, turning the flowers by the stem again.

“It’s, uh–pretty,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean, it’s–cool. Thanks.”

“If I can’t bring you fresh ones, well . . .” Tim shrugs. Kon glances back to him, and very briefly presses one of the orchid blooms against his own mouth. His face is still all flushed and his eyes are still a little soft, and it’s . . . it makes a picture, alright, even if it's not one Tim's specifically set up to take. Especially with the gold eyeliner and his blue eyes both matching the orchids.

Tim didn't plan that, obviously, but he thinks it makes up for the sapphire versus ruby thing.

“Um . . .” Kon trails off, biting his lip. Glances down at the orchids from under his lashes. It doesn't make him any less of a picture, for sure. “So, um–do you wanna see the ‘something nice’ I got?”

Tim blinks, immediately thinks of the most embarrassing option that Kon could possibly mean, and desperately tries to fight back a mortified flush at the idea. But, well–everything he can see Kon wearing is something he remembers buying him already, so . . .

Oh god, he needs his brain to shut up right now. Immediately. Right now and immediately and forever.

“Sure,” he says like a normal person, trying not to panic. “What is it?”

Kon, thank god, pulls a little rectangular package inexplicably–and inexpertly–wrapped in newspaper comics out of the same coat pocket he tucked the jewelry box in. There's plain white string tied around it in a bow.

Tim . . . blinks.

If he didn't know better, he'd think Kon had . . .

“I, um, got you something?” Kon says, and Tim stares blankly at the package. He–what? “For once, anyway. Well, I guess, uh, technically you got it for yourself, and actually this is kinda stupid maybe, you can literally just get yourself whatever you want whenever, obviously, but I just thought, uh–”

“You got me something?” Tim repeats in surprise. Kon turns pink and shoves the package at him. Tim is too bewildered not to take it.

“I thought it’d be, uh–fun,” he says, biting his lip and still very visibly blushing. “I mean–that we could have some fun with it. Y’know?”

Tim stares at the package for another moment, then looks up at Kon. Alright, this maybe isn’t exactly the vibe he was going for here in terms of who’s paying for what and who’s giving things to who, but . . . well, Kon apparently used his allowance for whatever this is, at least, which gives him a reason to have wanted the allowance, so . . . he can work with that, he figures. Like, it’s an “in” to work from; a step in the process.

He can’t tell what Kon’s gotten him from the shape of the package, though the edges are hard even though it doesn’t feel like it’s in a box or anything. “Have some fun” isn’t much of a clue, though he supposes it does imply something interactive. Maybe it’s a game of some kind, or–

Tim unties the bow and splits apart the clumsy seam of the comic-page wrapping paper with his thumb, tugging through its layers to reveal the package’s contents, and Kon flushes a little darker and watches him just a little bit nervously.

Tim doesn’t actually know what to say.

“I just thought, um, a real one’d probably take better pictures than a phone can,” Kon says sheepishly, slanting his eyes away and half-hiding his face behind the orchids. “I made sure the battery was charged and the guy at the store said it's got a lot of storage, I guess, so . . .”

“You got me a camera,” Tim says blankly, which is the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him short of, like . . . no, it’s pretty much just the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. By far it’s the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him.

“You like taking pictures, right?” Kon fidgets a little, then smiles just barely shyly as he glances back at him. Tim's heart skips a few beats. Or more than just “a few”, maybe. “So, um–I thought maybe we could go do that . . . somewhere. You know, after dinner.”

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him a little stupidly. It’s not a particularly good camera, honestly–like, it’s a perfectly functional model for casual amateur use and a decently reliable commercial brand, but he’s got much better ones that are all professional-quality. He hasn’t used any of them in a while and most of them are admittedly a few years old now, but . . . yeah, this was a hundred bucks max, if that, and his cheapest camera was over five hundred.

Note to self: raise Kon’s allowance.

Also, apparently now his favorite camera is the kind of camera civilian amateurs just take random family photos on. Apparently that’s a thing.

Tim really doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Kon not only remembered something he mentioned having an interest in, Kon bothered to actually get him something he thought he’d have an interest in. That is really, really not the dynamic he’s been encouraging here, for one thing. And also, why even would Kon do that? Like–really?

“Thanks,” Tim says sincerely, turning the camera over in his hands and feeling incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “I love it.”

“Cool,” Kon says, biting his lip around a smile. His face is still a little pink and he looks all soft and pretty like that, especially with the flowers still in his hand. Tim really was not prepared for Kon having “soft and pretty” in his repertoire. Like, that was not a thing he ever expected to see from his cocky, crowing brawler of a teammate.

Kon’s only a brawler because he thinks he’s supposed to be, though, Tim’s pretty sure. Like–increasingly sure, at this point.

He really, really needs to figure out how to get Kon to tell Robin more about his TTK. Or, like . . . anything about it, apparently. Just literally any single thing, at this point.

“Thank you,” he says again, inspecting the camera assessingly and making note of all its functions and ports and the generally obvious basics. “We could go take some shots around downtown later, if you’re up for that?”

Kon turns bright red, and Tim doesn’t understand for about half a second before remembering–the last time Kon had talked to him about taking pictures, he’d offered . . .

Oh Jesus.

Tim is either incredibly stupid or–actually, he doesn’t even know. Lucky? Embarrassing? The dumbest moron alive who didn’t even realize he was being flirted with again? All those things and several even worse ones?

Kon had offered to let him take spicy pics of him the last time they'd talked about taking pictures, whatever “spicy” means to Kon–brash, impulsive, shameless Kon–and Tim’s the idiot whose first thought upon Kon following up that conversation by very literally giving him a camera was to go take pictures of fucking downtown.

He is the most useless “sugar daddy” to ever sugar.

Well, to be fair, it is Gotham downtown, so it’s very–

“I like taking pictures of streets and buildings,” he blurts belatedly, fumbling to sound like just the oblivious idiot that he is and not some kind of weird fucking perv who’s trying to get Kon arrested for public indecency. Jesus, he’s stupid. “And people-watching is interesting too. You know, stuff like that.”

“Oh,” Kon says, and looks several ways at once, including both a little relieved and a little disheartened, which . . . okay, Tim would literally die if they actually went somewhere to take spicy pics tonight, so is unfortunately unavoidable. He’s not trying to make Kon not feel–attractive or anything, but he needs at least twenty-four hours to make a plan and also two or three or seventeen contingency plans before . . . anything like that happens. Ever. Even in theory. “Um–yeah, sure. That sounds cool.”

“Cool,” Tim says, still desperately pretending to be an idiot. It’s not hard, on account of the fact that he very much is an idiot.

Kon pauses for a moment, then perks up a little, seeming to think of something, and asks–“When’s dinner?”

“Our reservation’s in forty-five minutes,” Tim says, double-checking the time on his phone just to be sure. “Well, forty-six. I figured that’d let us take our time walking over and maybe we could window-shop a little on the way.”

And also shop-shop a lot, if Kon gives him literally even the slightest indication that he wants or needs something. Just if it comes up or anything. That’s all.

Tim definitely did plan their route to the restaurant to cut straight through the middle of the downtown shopping district, either way.

“We could’ve just met there, dude,” Kon says wryly, but grins anyway, glancing down at the orchids in his hand again. “Forty-six minutes, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tim confirms.

“And you like taking pictures of streets and buildings?” Kon asks, his grin turning just a little bit sly. Tim frowns briefly in confusion, not sure what the grin’s about.

“Yeah,” he says. “Gotham has a lot of really interesting architecture and design. Like, it’s an old city, and one that’s been pretty resistant to updates in a lot of areas or just not had the money for those updates. So you get a lot of places with a lot of character and it’s basically the bastard child of gothic and art deco design with a side of industrial warehouse, depending on the part of town you’re in. Like, Crime Alley and the Diamond District have very different vibes, but they’re both very Gotham vibes, if you know what to look for. It’s–”

Kon is grinning really widely at him, for some reason. Tim realizes he’s rambling like a moron and turns red.

“Uh,” he says, repressing a wince. “Yes. Yeah. I like taking pictures of streets and buildings.”

“Cool,” Kon says, and then he carefully packs the orchids back into their box and it back into the gift bag and transfers the chocolates and jewelry back into it too, then grins even wider at him as he hooks the bag’s handles over his arm and into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t drop the camera, babe.”

“Wha–” Tim starts to say, and then Kon grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the closest alley, which is terrible survival instincts for Gotham, oh god, but before Tim can say anything about that Kon’s wrapped an arm around his waist just tight enough to just barely lift him off his feet and bolted straight up into the air with him. “Shit!”

Tim doesn’t drop the camera because he’s held onto cameras while falling off literal buildings before, but definitely only because of that. Muscle memory, or whatever. Also he’s been snatched off his feet by Bruce and Dick plenty of times and thrown off rooftops by multiple rogues and thugs over the years and these days gets regularly dragged around by Bart, all while holding very important things he could not afford to drop, so it’s not like either the sudden jolt or the effort to keep his grip on the camera are as disorienting as it otherwise would be. Just . . .

Ugh, Tim realizes, absolutely unimpressed with himself upon realizing that the breathless feeling he’s having right now is not actually related to the swift and sudden increase in altitude, but is actually just because it’s Kon holding him.

He is an idiot, isn’t he, he reflects resignedly. Just an actual literal idiot.

Jesus.

“Whatcha think?” Kon asks with a grin as he comes to a stop in mid-air with him. He stops very suddenly, but Tim notices a distinct lack of jarring with said stop, which implies Kon’s got his TTK around him again and probably completely around him, which means–

Oh god, Tim thinks, and very quickly makes himself stop thinking about that.

“It’s cool,” he says, because a normal civilian would think flying was something interesting and unusual, but it’s hard to act too excited about a move Kon probably pulls on literally everyone he–

“I meant the view, babe!” Kon says with a laugh, and Tim . . . blinks.

And then he looks down.

They’re hovering a few thousand feet up, and downtown is already lit up bright in the early evening gloom. And Kon . . .

“Streets and buildings, as ordered,” Kon says, grinning wider with a smug, cocky look on his face.

Oh no, he’s hot, Tim realizes with dread, and then blinks again. Stares down at the city below, past the whipping wind and down into the busy streets and the bright, dazzling lights cutting through the murky gloom. He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, obviously, because of course he has–he’s been climbing these rooftops for years, and every night he runs across and swings back and forth between them and utterly fails to learn how to do more than a double backflip.

One day, he promises himself distractedly, and then looks back at Kon.

He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, but never just because someone thought he’d like it. Like–not like this, he means. Dick's shown him a few particularly special or exhilarating views over the years, yeah, but . . . definitely not like this. Not for a reason like this.

And definitely not while peacocking all smug and pretty dressed up in clothes that he bought him and holding him close enough to kiss.

Kon’s expression turns a little sheepish; a little soft. Not quite shy, but . . .

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice pitched a little quieter, and Tim has the much worse and even more dread-inducing realization of oh no, he’s CUTE.

He swallows, briefly, and feels his face burn.

“Yeah,” he manages in an almost-normal voice. “I like it.”

Kon grins at him, brighter than any city light, and Tim barely keeps himself from dropping the camera after all.

“Thanks,” he attempts awkwardly, making himself focus on the camera and resisting the urge to take an immediate shot of that city-light grin.

Then he takes one anyway, because of course he does. Kon laughs in surprise, then makes a face at him teasingly.

“Hey, you can buy this face in any cheap gossip rag, focus on the fun stuff,” he jokes, jerking his head towards the city below. Tim looks searchingly at him for a moment, and then for obvious reasons snaps another picture. Kon flushes a little again. They probably won't even come out from this close, but . . .

“You’re the most fun I’ve had all week,” Tim says, which is definitely too honest but clearly necessary to make a point of saying. Kon turns redder, ducking his head and grinning around his bitten lip.

“You don’t have to say that kind of thing to me, man,” he says, and it comes across almost like a reflex. Tim hates . . . yeah, just literally everybody Kon’s ever known in his whole entire life, actually? Like, pretty much everybody? Bart gets a break because he grew up alone in VR and is therefore terrible with people and the girls get a break because they haven’t known any of them that long, but everybody else can just take a long walk off a short gutter, in Tim’s opinion.

Especially any “everybody” from Cadmus.

Or Metropolis, at this point.

“I’m not saying anything I don’t want to say,” he says simply, and goes to the effort to frame a few shots of the skyline so Kon will know he appreciates . . . well, not the angle, exactly, but the thought.

Technically he is usually on top of a building when he’s doing this, so the angle is actually a slightly different one than he’s used to–not that he’s been taking photos lately, just–not the point, really. Kon got him a camera and brought him up here because he clearly thought he’d like it, and damned if Tim is gonna do anything to make him think he doesn’t.

He has better cameras for things like this–aerial shots and night photography and long-distance and the like, and better cameras for closeup candids too–but he already knows these pictures are all going to be exactly what he wants them to be, even the ones that don't come out.

Or especially those, maybe.

He's not sure how he'd explain that feeling to someone else.

Kon flies them around, staying out of sight behind the light pollution and among the shadows of the buildings, and Tim takes . . . a lot more pictures than he needs to, actually. He was just trying to make sure Kon knew he appreciated him thinking of him, but actually . . .

Well.

It’s fun, that’s all.

It’s . . . been a while, kinda, since he got to spend this much time on just photography and nothing else. Or–any time at all, really.

Not that this is nothing else, obviously, given that Kon’s holding him and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything besides that, but it is the kind of a view a standard civilian never gets, and it’s kind of nice to be flying for non-work-related reasons, for once. Like . . . novel, he guesses. A different experience.

Technically he and Dick do “fly” together just for fun, sometimes, but that’s different. Like–so many kinds of different. It helps them in their work–keeps the rooftops familiar and them both in shape and in sync–but he can’t take photos when he’s trying to keep up with Nightwing across the rooftops of Gotham, and it’s not like Dick’s carrying him either.

Also, it’s much less flustering and difficult to concentrate through, because again, Dick is not carrying him, and also Dick doesn’t do things like wear clothes he bought or do his eyeliner and paint his nails for him. Or, uh . . . anything like that.

Also, definitely the “spicy pics” thing is not at all a thing, with Dick. Like, not even slightly, in any way whatsoever. And they’ve also never made out in a changing room or the back of a planetarium or–

Look, there’s a lot of ways it’s different, okay?

A lot of ways.

“I'm not boring you, am I?” Tim asks a little bit sheepishly as Kon lands them on a ledge just behind one of the bigger gargoyles, tucked in tight in the shadows between it and the building it's perched on. “We can probably still fit in some window-shopping before dinner, if you want.”

“Oh my god, dude, I promise we can do things you don't have to spend money on,” Kon says with a laugh as he lets him down on the ledge. “Though if it helps you technically did spend money on this, given how I got the camera and all.”

“It's your allowance,” Tim says, because he wants to make sure Kon actually gets that. “You can spend it however you want.”

“Well, I spent it how I wanted,” Kon says, and then steps closer into his space with a smile. Tim ends up sitting on the gargoyle’s back as Kon leans down to kiss him, and it's not like he's never kissed anyone while perched on a gargoyle before, but somehow it feels like something new anyway. New and electric, bright and easy and smeared with the city lights and thrilling in its shadows, and–

Kon breaks off the kiss, though he keeps a hand on Tim’s arm, probably to make sure the squishy untrained civilian won't accidentally fall off the ledge and get splatted on the concrete. Tim barely holds himself back from chasing his mouth.

“It's cool, anyway. Um, doing stuff you're into with you, I mean,” Kon says, looking a little soft and almost-shy again, and never mind, Tim not only needs to chase his mouth, he needs to set up a damn manhunt for it. “You're real cute when you get excited, man. I mean, uh–just–”

The manhunt is going to require a very significant budget, Tim notes.

Then he kisses him again, obviously. Kon melts down into it–into him, really–and wraps his arms around his neck, and Tim feels several kind of ways about it. Admittedly, it's the easier option with him sitting on the gargoyle and Kon leaning over him, but Kon's put his arms around his neck a couple of times now, and, well . . .

That's just not something he would've expected from him, he guesses. Not “cool” or masculine or badass or . . . whatever, exactly, Kon thinks he's supposed to be.

So Tim . . . likes it, he thinks, that Kon doesn't seem to think he needs to be like that around Tim Drake.

Robin’s sure as hell never seen Kon in eyeliner.

Robin's loss, Tim thinks.

. . . maybe he's compartmentalizing a little too much these days, but still.

Kon makes a very, very soft little sound between their mouths and then laughs, and Tim promises himself he won't stop at Gotham: he'll take over Metropolis for this asshole one day. Even if that means putting up with Lex Luthor and Superman. And also, like . . . everything about Metropolis.

He'll figure it out. Supervillainy is still a long-term plan, so he's got time.

Anyway, if he gives it to Kon after he takes it over he won't have to put up with it, so it's whatever. Sugar daddies do that kind of thing, right? Get their sugar-ees a city?

. . . okay, definitely not. Like, very definitely not.

“Okay date idea, then?” Kon asks as he leans back a bit and does a very bad job of biting back a smile, his face a little flushed and arms squeezing a little tighter around his neck.

Tim will get him Metropolis if it kills Lex Luthor.

“Very okay,” he says, smiling back at him. Kon grins, his face turning just a little bit redder, and then kisses him again. Tim has absolutely no complaints about that. Ever. He can’t even imagine a complaint he’d have about that, in fact.

Worst case scenario, he’ll get them in at another restaurant if they miss their reservation.

He really doesn't know what else he's supposed to do about how easy Kon blushes.

They definitely spend too long making out against the gargoyle and Tim definitely lets himself get too riled up during it–and does not think about tactile telekinesis or any kind of related passive perception while he does–but by the time he’s the one pressing Kon back against the building, he really doesn’t care anymore.

The fact Kon is even willing to let him do that when there is literally no way Tim could ever actually pin him anywhere without a way to sabotage his powers is . . . really, really distracting. Just–so distracting.

Jesus, Tim thinks, breaking off just long enough to catch his breath for a moment. Kon pants softly against his mouth, which sabotages that even worse than kryptonite would sabotage TTK.

Jesus, Tim thinks again, and then crushes their mouths back together.

He doesn’t need to breathe that often.

Kon makes a softer, breathier sound this time, and Tim does not let himself make it weird by letting his hands wander anywhere outside of second base territory. Frankly he’s not sure second base territory isn’t him making it weird, but Kon started it, so hopefully it’s not? Like–logically it’d follow that Kon wouldn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want touched, right?

Well–hopefully, anyway.

The air feels tight, Tim notices suddenly, like the feeling of sinking into deeper pressure when underwater but all at once, and then realizes��oh.

Uh.

Okay.

“Um,” he says, and immediately the feeling of pressure vanishes as Kon jerks back and claps a hand over his own mouth. Which is mostly him pushing Tim back, given their position, but he does crack the brickwork behind him a little.

Whoops, Tim thinks.

“Sorry!” Kon blurts. “Sorry, sorry, that’s–sorry! I just, uh–got a little too into it. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s really not a problem,” Tim says, with absolutely no idea how to take the idea of Kon getting “a little too into it” when kissing him, or the idea that getting a little too into it apparently involves getting wrapped up in TTK a lot more noticeably than making him bulletproof at the museum did. “I mean–it didn’t hurt or anything, I was just surprised.”

“I–yeah, I know, it’s just–weird,” Kon says, still looking mortified. “So–sorry. That’s all.”

“I don’t mind weird,” Tim says, because actually the idea of being temporarily at least as invulnerable as Kon is while making out with him implies being able to devote a lot more attention to said making out, as opposed to keeping half an eye out for snipers or rogues or random rooftop criminals. Not that he’d stop paying any attention to that, obviously, just–yeah. Well.

It’s a little tempting, that’s all.

“Uh–you don’t?” Kon bites his lip, still looking a little embarrassed.

“It kind of just felt like scuba-diving, but with less equipment involved,” Tim says with a little shrug, keeping his tone light because “seriously, you have no idea how much I’d like to not be compulsively keeping an eye out for snipers right now” isn’t a very “civilian” thing to say. “And I’m not about to complain about you enjoying kissing me that much either way.”

“Oh,” Kon says, and flushes a little. “Uh–really?”

“Really,” Tim says, smiling at him again and tugging gently at the lapels of his jacket to pull himself back in. Kon blushes, and grins, and meets him halfway for the kiss. The sensation of pressure wraps him up again, gentle but undeniable, and Tim feels several kinds of ways about it.

Maybe even a little bit safe, or at least as safe as anyplace outside the Batcave ever gets.

Tim knows there’s no such thing as being perfectly, completely safe, but getting all wrapped up in Kon’s TTK and kissed for it makes it hard to remember that.

Very, very hard.

They spend a much longer time making out this time. Tim is vaguely aware that they still have a dinner reservation to make, but . . . well, he did pad the time to allow for window-shopping, so even with the time they spent flying around taking pictures, it's probably fine?

Yeah, no, they’ve definitely missed their reservation by now. Probably way past missed it. Just so, so far past missed it.

Weirdly, Tim doesn’t care as much as he should, even though he really prefers when things go to plan and also needs Kon to feel appreciated and like he got properly spoiled and taken someplace nice. He’s going to have to figure out something else on the fly, though, because he really does needs Kon to feel appreciated and also needs the excuse to get him more used to getting money spent on him and–

Tim remembers that he needs to breathe more than he's currently breathing and breaks off the kiss. Kon half-chases his mouth with his own, audibly breathless himself. Tim is not equipped to handle Kon breathless.

That might actually be more flattering than the TTK thing. Or, uh–flustering, maybe.

Both, maybe. “Both” is probably accurate here.

Jesus, Tim does not know what he did to deserve Kon getting breathless over something he’s done to him, much less all soft and pretty and–

They have definitely, definitely missed their reservation. Usually Tim has a better sense of time than that, but usually Tim doesn’t have Kon wanting to make out on a Gotham rooftop with him, Like, he thinks he can forgive himself a little bit of disorientation on that one, considering.

. . . as long as Bruce never finds out he messed up that bad, anyway. Because Bruce would definitely not like hearing he’d messed up that bad, TTK or not.

Probably especially involving the TTK, actually. Probably Bruce would not take “yeah I let Superboy get distracted enough to unconsciously wrap me up in his Kryptonian-level superpowers while he wasn’t in full control of them and actually, like, encouraged it, kinda? like, explicitly encouraged it, actually”.

Yeah, Bruce would not like that.

“Um,” Tim says, and clears his throat a little awkwardly. “So, uh–hungry yet?”

“You could say that,” Kon murmurs, then flashes him a sharp, wicked grin with his eyes slit open just enough to fix on Tim’s mouth. Tim spares a moment to compartmentalize just enough to not lose his mind about that, then makes the mistake of licking his lips anxiously, sees Kon’s hooded eyes go hot at the sight, and immediately fails to not lose his mind.

“Uh,” he manages, and then decides they don’t really need to get dinner just yet and maybe they could just, like–no, no, Kon is definitely not getting enough calories from that stupid barely-legal underground lab’s stupid definitely-not-health-code-compliant cafeteria, Tim is not gonna be a bad enough date to not get his date a respectable amount of calories. That is just not a thing that he’s gonna, like . . . thing, as a thing. Or whatever.

Not like Superman’s been bringing Kon casseroles or anything, the prick.

“Um, I–uh, might’ve let us get a little too distracted, sorry,” Tim attempts after a moment of mental fumbling, making himself push back from Kon a little and pulling his phone out to check the time. Yeah, they have definitely missed their reservation. Very, very thoroughly have they missed it.

Dammit. That is not Bat-quality situational awareness.

“You think that was just you, man?” Kon asks with a little laugh, just barely ducking his head and biting his lip. It is . . . very distracting. As is his face. And his hands, which are still loosely on Tim’s back, and his TTK, which is still loosely . . . basically everywhere, yeah. Just–way too many places for Tim to be rational about, basically.

“I mean, I was the one who made the reservation,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly as he does his best to at least fake rationality. “So, uh, I should’ve been paying attention to the time. I can see if there’s someplace we can still slip in, it’s a little last-minute for a Friday but–”

Kon kisses him again.

Tim was saying something, he’s reasonably sure, but he couldn’t remember whatever it was with a gun to his head. A gun to his head while out of his suit and without Kon on the same floor as him, to be clear.

Kon leans back and grins at him, all bright and pretty and cutting right through the shade and shadows of Gotham like a spotlight-signal lighting up the cloud cover. Tim remains vaguely aware of the fact that he was doing . . . something. At some point. In theory.

God, Kon is so pretty. So, so pretty. And everything he’s wearing is something Tim bought him, coat and clothes and jewelry and all. Just–all of it, as far as he can see.

Tim does not let himself think about what else Kon might or might not be wearing right now. Just–that way lies madness, and also Kon not getting a decent dinner and decent spoiling.

. . . there’s probably some other ways Tim could spoil him, technically, if he just–

Tim does not finish that thought.

“You’re so fucking cute, daddy,” Kon says, still grinning just as signal-bright and pretty at him. Tim is not prepared for literally any of that and nearly melts right off the ledge into an incoherent mess of street pizza.

“Uh,” he says, swallowing roughly. “We should–are you hungry yet?”

Kon laughs, for some reason. Tim very quietly and carefully burns alive, and then Kon floats up a few inches and ducks around him and back out into the open air, leaning down to grin at him and reaching to–probably he’s intending to pick him up again, Tim’s brain is vaguely aware, but the rest of Tim is thinking more like hurr durr pretty boy, which is definitely why he ends up reaching up to cup Kon’s face in his hands and tug him down for another kiss, pushing himself up on his toes on the edge of the ledge to reach him easier. Kon makes a soft, breathless little noise, then laughs in delight and kisses him back.

The wind is cold and sharp and the evening sky is all heavy dark clouds and hazy light pollution and Kon’s wearing clothes Tim bought him, some of which Tim even suggested to him, and he put on makeup and painted his nails to come see him and he’s got a gift bag of little things Tim picked out for him hooked in the crook of his elbow and he liked all of those little things, and they’ve not only missed but obliterated their dinner reservation, and they’re half-on a ledge high above the street and kissing and Kon is just so pretty.

And Kon also bought him a camera and brought him up here because he thought he’d like it and called him “cute”, which are all facts that Tim is definitely going to have to compartmentalize to fully process later, or else he really will melt right off the stupid ledge.

The spicy pics thing, also, is a thing. The spicy pics thing is, uh–very much a thing.

Tim is maybe just never gonna process that particular fact in, like, self-defense.

Ever.

. . . god, he’s going to have to process that fact at some point, isn’t he. God. That is . . . that is a whole thing that he is going to have to do. Like, effectively and well and throughly.

Maybe it’s not too late to just go supervillain right now, actually. Maybe Kon would be open to, like, minionhood or something. Lots of supervillains put their minions up in their lairs, right? That’s totally a thing, isn’t it?

Ugh, no, Kon deserves a place he can really feel like is his place and also he has not laid near enough groundwork to get Dick to switch sides. Like, Alfred would, obviously. Alfred will be on-board the second the rusty crowbar and shrapnel bomb plan comes up and will probably have useful notes to add. But Dick is gonna require some more long-term finessing and Babs definitely won’t come if Dick doesn’t and–

Kon laughs into the kiss and cups Tim’s face in return, which is incredibly distracting, and then squishes his face, which is incredibly annoying.

“Hey!” Tim sputters, and Kon laughs again and leans back just enough to grin at him.

“You are so weird, dude,” he says. “I can literally hear you thinking.”

“. . . that’s not me being detached from the situation, I–” Tim starts, unable to repress a wince, and Kon just grins wider, grabs his wrists, and tugs him off the ledge and–oh, okay, that’s a weird sensation, Tim notes, because gravity does absolutely nothing at all to him until Kon’s pulled him into his arms and wrapped him up in them again all easy and secure. .

So that’s . . . yeah, no, “incredibly distracting” isn’t actually gonna cover this one, considering.

“Uh,” he says, blinking a couple of times. That. That is definitely not how Superboy holds Robin.

Frick.

“I just gotta keep you better attached, right, daddy?” Kon purrs–really purrs, his chest briefly vibrating against Tim’s–and then grins wider at him again with eyes that are, unfortunately, literally goddamn sparkling right now–thanks, gold eyeliner, Tim didn’t need those higher thought processes–before giving him another quick little kiss that Tim actually would like to turn into a four-hour make-out session and maybe also a sleepover and–

God he needs to remember how to compartmentalize. He really, really needs to remember how to compartmentalize.

Also he needs to kiss Kon’s literal friggin’ brains out, the smug friggin’ asshole.

Mid-air makeouts are the worst possible idea Kon has ever inflicted on him and Tim would sooner fight Killer Croc without his utility belt than point that fact out to him.

He winds his arms around Kon’s neck and kisses him back, and Kon makes this tiny little–not pleased, not content, but actually happy-sounding noise and kisses back harder. Tim feels gravity stop being a particularly relevant concern again and feels like he’s floating in deep, heavy water but also like he’s the lightest he’s ever been in his life, and it is . . . it is a feeling, alright.

Kon is a menace. Kon is a problem.

Kon is so, so damn cute.

“You are an actual literal brat, baby,” Tim mutters slightly more feelingly than he means to, and Kon’s laugh comes out a little breathier this time and he ducks his head to the side and his face flushes and–

No. Nope. No. Tim needs to not learn anything new about himself or Kon tonight, or, worse, anything about him and Kon. That is just not a thing he has time for in his schedule. He’s got to fit in an anxiety attack and three full files’ worth of casework this weekend, for one, plus his science presentation and that make-up book report, and also come up with someplace else nice enough to take Kon to dinner tonight.

“So, uh–dinner?” he says very quickly–self-defense, again–and Kon bites his lower lip and grins around it, his face still turned just a little bit away. Tim pretends they’re not effectively pressed together from knee to neck right now. Pretends valiantly. “I mean–um, if you’re hungry yet.”

Kon laughs, ducking his head lower, the dangling gold teardrop hanging from his ear gleaming warmly in the murky electric city light. Tim goes through multiple stages of emotional processing to keep himself from kissing his neck right behind that earring and completely forgetting about not only dinner, but all his homework and casework and even the anxiety attack.

Does Kon laugh this much around Robin?

Tim really doesn’t feel like he does.

He also doesn’t tell Robin very important things like the fact that he can make other people bulletproof on a whim and map out an entire mall just by standing in it, which is objectively much worse and potentially dangerous a thing not to do, but also Tim is already positive he’s going to miss that laugh like crazy every time he sees Kon with the mask on.

Robin doesn’t get to see Kon like this at all, even when he lets the asshole eat both stupid boxes of cinnamon bread.

“Dinner, yeah,” Kon says, grinning again and then taking off backwards across the sky, apparently unconcerned about their chances of hitting a building. Tim’s not really in a proper carry so much as just stretched out against him and wrapped up in his arms, but given the nature of how Kon’s powers work, an actual carry is obivously not really a concern, so . . .

Oh, Tim realizes as Kon tips back just enough to be reclining in the air, still flying without any apparent care or concern for the aerodynamics of the situation or anything but staying more or less out of view of anyone on the street below.

Avoiding the street view is good.

The part where now he’s essentially laying on top of Kon is . . . less good, maybe.

Maybe he won’t have to convince Kon to go supervillain, at least. Maybe Kon’s already there.

“Where to, daddy?” Kon asks with a smirk, keeping one arm looped around Tim’s waist and folding the other behind his own head like he’s laying out in a lounge chair on the beach. Tim thinks longingly of smothering him and also of getting him to take down his TTK so he could bite a hickey or five into his neck. Maybe six. He could probably do six.

Or seven.

“Northeast towards Broad Street,” Tim says as he tips his head in the appropriate direction, then pulls up the camera again and snaps a quick shot of Kon’s smug smirk, which immediately breaks into a surprised laugh as the other flushes again.

He takes a picture of that too.

“You flirtin’ again already, man?” Kon asks with a sheepish little laugh, like the bastard has any room to talk.

“The position’s pretty good for it, that’s all,” Tim says with a level of casualness he absolutely does not feel. Kon flushes darker and bites his lip again, still just barely grinning. Tim, ethically, has no choice but to take a few more pictures.

“Oh my god,” Kon says, laughing again and unfolding the arm he has tucked behind his head to hide his eyes behind instead. Tim is maybe a little bit too aware of the line of his throat under the neck of his shirt, without his eyes and the sparkle there to be distracting him into a useless stupid mushbrained might-as-well-be-a-civilian, observationally-speaking. “I’m not a building, you absolute nerd!”

“I said I liked people-watching too, didn’t I?” Tim points out reasonably, though mostly his brain’s occupied with the question of–“Hey. If you let down your TTK a bit, could a baseline-DNA human give you a hickey? Like, is that physically possible, or are you too Kryptonian for that?”

“Oh my god,” Kon repeats, laughing harder even as the flush on his face spreads down his neck. Tim wonders how warm that might feel under his mouth. “I, uh–dunno, man. Maybe?”

Tim silently resolves himself to finding literally any excuse to conduct that experiment and moves a hand to cup the side of Kon’s throat, eyeing it consideringly. Kon makes a slightly weird noise and visibly swallows, and Tim belatedly realizes that he’s paid literally no attention whatsoever to whether or not they’re about to hit a building or a flagpole or a roof this entire flight; he just assumed Kon had it handled. The Bat-paranoia kicks in and he glances up reflexively, and just as reflexively slides the pad of his thumb across Kon’s pulse. Their flight path is clear; they’re high enough to avoid most of the buildings in this area. Definitely still gonna need to keep an eye out for radio towers and billboards, but . . .

Kon swallows again, the gesture a little bit rough this time. Tim feels the other’s throat flex against his palm. That sure is . . . that sure is a thing that Tim feels right there. That invulnerable throat flexing right there against his palm, and maybe not necessarily having to be invulnerable, if Kon didn’t want it to be.

. . . . . . he already said he didn’t have time to learn anything new about himself tonight, dammit.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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