#again no shade i just think the differences are funny

[southbynorth994]

I had no idea how my life was about to change when I asked that girl out on a simple date. Her name was Isabella. I had seen her around town, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall down her back, and her eyes—her eyes were a perfect shade of deep brown, mysterious yet warm, like a rich cup of coffee. She seemed different from the usual crowd, more reserved, but her smile could light up a room.

When she said yes to my invitation to dinner, I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world. We chose a quiet, cozy Italian restaurant on the edge of town, away from the hustle and bustle. It was the kind of place that felt like a hidden gem, with candlelight flickering on every table and a soft hum of Italian opera in the background. We talked for hours. She was charming, funny, and intelligent, and I was captivated by every word she said. She seemed so ordinary, in the best way possible, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that I might have just met someone truly special.

As the evening came to an end, I walked her to her car, a sleek black Audi. She thanked me for the night, her eyes sparkling, and I felt like the world was at my feet. I promised to call her again, to arrange another date soon, and she smiled, nodding in agreement.

But that’s when things took a strange turn.

The next morning, I was at work when I got a phone call from an unknown number. I almost didn’t pick up, but something told me to answer.

“Is this Brian Holden?” a low, gravelly voice asked.

“Yeah, who is this?”

“My name is Vito. Vito Romano. We need to talk.”

I froze. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Romano. That was the name of one of the most dangerous mafia families in the city. I had heard whispers about them. Stories of violence, power, and influence. And Vito Romano? He was the patriarch—the boss.

“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered. “What do you want from me?”

“I think you know,” Vito said, his voice calm but chilling. “You took my daughter out last night.”

I felt my blood run cold. My stomach dropped. Isabella was his daughter? The girl I had taken on a date?

“I didn’t know,” I said quickly, trying to explain myself. “I swear, I didn’t know. I thought she was just a normal—”

“I don’t care what you thought,” Vito interrupted. “What matters now is how you handle this situation. My daughter was not just any girl, and you will treat her with respect, or there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes… yes, I understand,” I stammered.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Vito spoke again.

“I’ll be at your place in an hour. Be ready to speak to me.”

I hung up the phone, my heart racing. I couldn’t believe it. I had just accidentally asked the mafia boss’s daughter on a date. What had I gotten myself into?

An hour later, a black SUV pulled up outside my apartment. My doorbell rang, and I opened it to find two imposing men in dark suits standing on my doorstep. One of them was holding a leather briefcase, the other had a scowl on his face. Behind them, I saw Vito himself, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a presence that made everything around him feel small.

“Brian Holden?” he asked, his voice calm but intimidating.

“Y-yes,” I replied.

“Come with me,” he said, and without waiting for an answer, he turned and started walking toward the car. The two men followed, and I had no choice but to follow as well.

We drove for what felt like forever, the tension in the car suffocating. When we arrived at a large, gated mansion, I felt like I had entered another world. Vito led me inside, his presence commanding every inch of the grand house. We sat down in a lavishly decorated room, and Vito motioned for me to take a seat.

“I don’t know what you were thinking, taking my daughter out without knowing who she is,” Vito said, his tone softening just slightly. “But I can see that you’re not the type of man who would intentionally disrespect the Romano family.”

I swallowed hard, still in disbelief.

“I… I had no idea. I swear. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Vito studied me for a long moment before nodding. “I believe you. Isabella speaks highly of you. And in this family, that counts for something.”

I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

“So, what happens now?” I asked cautiously.

Vito smiled—a rare, approving smile. “You’ll be a part of the family, Brian. You have my blessing. But remember this: we look out for our own, and you’ll do the same. Understood?”

I nodded, my mouth dry. “Understood.”

And just like that, I found myself welcomed into the heart of the mafia—a place I never imagined I’d be, all because of a simple date with a beautiful girl.

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

[egg-emperor]

Does Eggman actually have dark red eyes? I wanted to hear your take on that!

Nah that was just an ongoing thing in non canon media. Likely due to how the US box art Eggman for classic games looked like he had black voids for eyes, then 90s shows seemed to take inspiration but gave him red irises, which the Archie comics then adopted- well pre reboot, as he was later depicted with white sclera there even.

In the games he's always had regular white sclera instead. Even before we knew his actual iris color, he was consistenly depicted with white sclera long before and it was always Sega/Sonic Team Japan's vision. Here I'll compile some times they've appeared in the actual games

This was an unused animation for the Egg Poison boss but it's still a sprite made for a game that depicts what they envisioned his eyes to be:

They should've kept it because it was very cute and funny, spilling Mega Mack over himself XD

But with that, it dates his white sclera all the way back to Sonic 2, despite what Western classic box art and shows depicted at the time

The Sonic Advance games and Sonic Battle have his eyes very comically pop out when he takes damage:

He's literally one of these keychains where you squeeze them and the eyes pop out, they need to make an official Advance/Battle Eggman keychain like this lol

The 2D animations like Sonic Mania Adventures are considerably canon as they take place after the game's events and are in an actual game now through Sonic Origins' museum. You can see them there too:

You can also see them again in the character sheet art that was also used as reference for the Origins 2D animation:

Trio of Trouble, which also should be canon as a prequel and promo for Sonic Superstars, also shows his eyes briefly:

The only time he's been shown with an iris color in a game is Sonic 06, where we finally see that they're blue

While 06's events were erased from the timeline, Eggman's eye color obviously wouldn't have just randomly changed just for these events and then been some other color after, so this solidly confirms what color his irises are

I really love the light gray-blue shade they went with specifically, suits him best for it makes them look cold and intense which I think works as a much better way to give him a sinister look than much more cliche red and black eyes

And a bonus which perhaps might not be the case but that one CD sprite has always appeared to give a peek at the whites of his eyes behind his glasses to me at least too:

There are also non canon depictions with white sclera as much as there are of him with red and black but I wanted to compile the appearances within actual games and tie-ins specifically. And as you can see, he has white sclera in all of them and blue irises in 06

Red and black is purely non canon. A lot of people have theories about his eyes changing or looking different because of non canon media but if he took his glasses off in a 3D modern game, he'd absolutely just have blue eyes and white sclera

I really hope they do at some point because they'd be fun to see on his regular model outside of 06 and would look very pretty hehe 🩵 I love to imagine them all the time and I'm very happy that they're the canon look because they're the best!

[tazzmanian-devil]

me: guys its not rpf me .2 seconds later filling my queue with ethubs:

[starry-bi-sky]

12AM late night danyal al ghul propaganda to consider (that is funny to me): this little brat being meaAN. nice twin danyal al ghul: great, fun, we love opposite twins. wonder where he's learning that kindness from, but it's a good dichotomy! but also mean danny fenton. this little shit can make an adult CRY. he is on par with Damian for most venomous barbs. he is a smarmy little motherfucker. he's nice to his people and HIS people only. everyone else can screw off for all he cares - he's gotta learn to care about other people. his canon sarcasm and wit goes from level 2 to level 10. he is a sarcastic, smarmy, witty little asshole and i could go on but the idea of danny fenton being a mean little menace to people is very very fun and amusing to me

[oatmealdaydreams]

would like to add: just bc someone disagrees with your takes or has different takes than you, doesn't mean it warrants retaliation :)

free my boy yes he did that shit but also a huge part of sanders sides is about the fact that no one is 100% good or 100% bad its never that simple and we all contain multitudes as well as the capacity to harm others even without meaning to 🗣🗣

[catssluvr]

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒆, aaron hotchner

aaron hotchner x fem!reader (916 words)

in which you end up with an injured nose at girl’s night and aaron takes care of you

warnings: bloody nose (surprise), r is tipsy, sweet aaron again 🫶🏻

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

This is probably the last way you would have imagined your day to end up like. This being sitting in the passenger seat of Hotch's car with an ice pack against your very much painful bloody nose.

It's funny to think that working in the fbi wasn't what gave you an injurie but falling against Emily's coffee table sure was. It was definitely quite a fight between you, one of Sergio's toys on the floor and the corner of the table. You just didn't happen to win it, leaving your nose bruised and bloody.

You felt utterly embarrassed for having to call him to pick you up, but you couldn't drive after two cups of wine and didn't want to ruin girl's night. You're sure there's better things for him to do on his day off, specially at midnight.

Though he doesn't seem bothered by it the slightest, his hand resting on your thigh for the whole ride home and stealing worried glances at you once in a while.

"You okay?" He asks once he opens the door, helping you out of your seatbelt.

You're quiet and that worries him. He knows pretty well you're not one to be quite when alcohol is running in your system.

"Mhm. Sorry for this, again." It's probably your fourth apology tonight and he doesn't like that one bit.

"Stop saying sorry." His tone is almost stern but you can feel the affection sweeping through it. "I missed you today, was glad you called." He's too sweet even when you're sure you ripped him out of bed, his crooked quarter zip that's thrown over his sleeping shirt proving you right.

You smile softly at him, regretting it immediately as your nose stings.

Aaron hushes you inside the house, immediately leading you to the bathroom and sitting you on the counter.

He rummages through the cabinets for a moment, pulling out a few cottons and other things you're too dozy too look properly at.

"Oh, sweet girl..." It's only now that he takes the ice pack from your nose that he realizes how painful it must be. There's dried blood right outside your nostrils and the bridge of your nose look another shade.

"That bad, uh?" You mock, holding back a chuckle at his reprehending stare.

Aaron starts cleaning your nose with a wet cotton, mumbling out gentle sorries when you hiss in pain.

You take the time to look at him through half closed eyes. His dishevelled hair, his concentrated expression and most of all his quarter zip paired with stripped pyjama pants. It makes you feel both giddy and guilty that he probably came running to get you once you called.

"You're pretty." You say it before getting to actually think about it. But the fact that you're still tipsy helps you say things shamelessly.

"Thank you, honey. You're very pretty too." He answers with a smile bigger than he intended, just happy that you're finally acting like you normally would while tipsy.

Once the blood is cleaned and the arnica is applied, he reaches for the small band aid box. They all have some kind of cartoon in them, Jack's influence.

"Which one?" He questions with fake seriousness, displaying all the different band aids.

You point to the spider-man themed one, probably Jack's influence as well.

"Very good choice." Aaron pulls it open, carefully applying it over the small cut on the bridge of your nose before pressing a tiny kiss there.

He tells you to wait for a moment before dissapearing into the bedroom, coming back a few seconds later with a large hoodie and one pair of stripped pyjama pants - both his.

You let out a relaxed sigh once you're in them, his scent comforting and similar to what you would call home.

"Gimme a kiss?" You mumble nasally, a chuckle bubbling out of him at the way it sounds more like 'kith'.

"I'll hurt your nose."

"No, it'll heal magically from your kiss." You do little in trying to persuade him, but it's more than enough for him.

Aaron tucks a few strands of hair behind your ears, cupping your warm cheeks and leaning in to place a gentle peck on your lips.

"Better, sweet girl?" It's not really a question, as he knows the answer. His lips trail from your cheek to your temple, lingering there for a moment before pulling to hold your face once more.

"Mhm, much better." You lean into his hands almost involuntarily.

His hands reach under your thighs, picking you up before you can even process it. You let out a surprised gasp, smacking his chest lightly when he laughs.

"You know, my nose is hurt. Not my legs, Aaron." You mumble against his neck, smiling at the way he shivers at the contact.

"Just let me spoil you, yeah?" He shushes you, arms comfortable around you as he enters the bedroom.

Once you're tucked inside the blankets in his so familiar bed, Aaron pulls out his quarter zip. Throwing it on top of the armchair in the corner before rushing to lay beside you.

Almost immediately, your arms find place around his waist. Your fingers trace incoherent shapes on his stomach and your head lays against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to a sleepy state almost immediately.

"Thank you." It's barely a whisper, but he hears it just fine.

He hums, squeezing his arms around you before pressing a kiss to your hair one last time. "My sweet girl."

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

love you,

cat 🤍

[mentally-gone002]

pretty genius boy

summary: spencer gets a haircut!

a/n: i am obsessed with jesus spencer and boyband spencer so… i decided to do a little fic abt him because he’s my husband (im delulu)

————————————————————————

the front door to mine and spencer’s apartment opened, signaling that he was home. 

he was earlier than expected. 

and so was i. 

i kept washing the few dishes that were left in the sink, blowing at a strand of hair that tickled my face when it grazed my cheek with my lips drawn to the side without looking up as spencer wandered into my line of sight, greeting me with a quick “hey” that caught my attention. he wasn’t looking at me, but at a file from work in his hands.

when i looked up i dropped the glass in my hand and then flinched when it hit the sink basin with a loud thud. “oh, my god!” i raised my voice is shock. “your hair!” 

he flinched at the glass thudding into the sink and then pursed his lips into a smile. “yeah,” he nodded. “what about it?” 

i scoffed, abandoning my chore with soap still clinging and dripping from my hands. “what about it?” i reiterated. “spencer… you chopped it all off!” i reached him and we stood toe to toe and i was craning my neck to see his new haircut. he looked very different. 

he frowned a little. “is that bad?” 

i shook my head quickly to make his frown disappear. “no, no, it’s just… i thought someone broke in at first glance.” i stifled a laugh, reaching a soapy hand to his hair. “give me an hour and i’ll tell you how i feel about it.” 

spencer nodded, laughing gently to himself at how i was looking at him. “okay.” he leaned down to my height and kissed my forehead. “i missed you.” 

“i missed you too.” i smiled into the second long contact. “and i miss your hair!” i frowned. 

he smiled. “it was too hot.” 

“you’re right.” i agreed with my arms crossing over my chest.

“i think you misunderstood the correct meaning of the word ‘hot’ in this context.” spencer told me.

i whined. “stop being so… genius. let me mourn the loss of your beautiful hair.” 

spencer rolled his eyes. “okay. you mourn, i’m gonna go shower.” 

i nodded and watched him disappear into our bedroom before walking back to the kitchen. i dried my hands and grabbed my phone, dialing penelope’s number. 

“hello my lovely!” she answered the phone in the same cheerful manner she always does. “what’s up?”

“spencer got a haircut.” i told her. 

she gasped, already intrigued. “what’s it look like? please tell me it’s not bad.”

i laughed. “it’s not bad it’s just… i wasn’t expecting it at all when he came home. it’s so short.” 

“how short are we talking?” she asked. 

i hummed. “think like… harry styles from one direction, but less fluffy.” 

the woman squealed over the phone. “oh, reid has a boyband haircut!” i could hear her typing quickly before she stopped, there was silence and then she giggled. 

“what’s so funny?” 

“i can’t wait to see his hair! he always has good haircuts. and if it’s anything like harry styles i’m going to go insane.” 

i laughed. “i told him to give me an hour to get used to it. i like it when it’s long because i can braid it.” 

she gave me a pitiful ‘awe’ and then asked, “do you think he’ll grow it back out?”

i hummed. “have you seen all the haircuts he’s had over the last few years? he never sticks to one for too long.” 

penelope agreed with a simple hum as i started walking towards our bedroom. “i’m gonna go, just wanted to update you on the ever changing plot of my life.” i chuckled, seeing the bathroom door adjoined to our bedroom open slightly. 

“i enjoy the updates. say hi to boy genius for me!” 

“i will.” i laughed and then hung up the phone prior to pulling the bathroom door wider for my entrance and then pushing it partially closed again. spencer was hidden behind the dark olive green shower curtain but that didn’t stop me from peeking around it to stare at him. 

his back was to me but i still focused on his wet hair that was a few shades darker and the smallest sight of muscle definition over his back. 

maybe i didn’t need an hour for his short hair to grow on me. 

i withdrew my head from the shower curtain and left the bathroom, smiling to myself with the fond thought of him in my head. 

i went back to the kitchen to finish the dishes and by the time i was done spencer was back in the room with me, a tee shirt covering his chest and sweatpants covered his legs. 

“hi.” he rounded the island in the kitchen to stand beside me at the sink, back to the counter. he looked down at me with the same kind eyes he always had. 

i smiled and shut off the running water so that i could move and stand between spencer’s legs. “hi.” i studied his messy towel dried hair prior to reaching up and touching some of the strands, twirling them between my fingers, then letting my hand slide down to touch his face. i looked into his eyes before saying, “i know it hasn’t been an hour, but it’s grown on me.” a smirk slipped over my lips as he grinned as well. 

“i knew you wouldn’t need an hour.” he teased lightly, leaning down to capture my lips with his for a brief second. 

i scoffed. “how did you know?”

“i’m a profiler, honey.” he reminded. 

i nodded gently, sighing contently. “ah, yes. i forgot.” my smile reflected my teasingly feigned innocence that spencer smiled at. “but seriously, i love it. it suits you, and you’re as handsome as ever.” i winked, smiling widely. spencer kissed me again. i could feel how his lips curled into a grin. “pretty genius boy.”

spencer tucked his head into my neck. i knew he was smiling.

i put my fingers in his now short hair, loving how easy it was to comb my fingers through it now.

[madamechrissy]

I Wanna Be Yours

Pairing- Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

Word count- 5.3k

Contents/summary -Cute, fluffy, sweet, some plot, college AU, SMUT lol, friends to lovers- Rating- Explicit- fingering, oral (fem receiving) explicit sex

This was a request for friends to lovers (where you fell first) Satoru is a dummy lol and not much plot, hope you all enjoy!! - Comments and reblogs always appreciated. 💖

Songs for this : Just Friends - Better - Love on the Brain

Satoru Gojo has been your best friend since middle school, he has his big, beefy arm around you now, grinning so pretty, as you both hide under his umbrella. It's raining so hard, pattering along it as you both walk to your dorm together.

"I miss you! You never hang out with me anymore!" He says with a pretty pout, his bright blue eyes wide, in that sad puppy look that always did you in, behind his dark blue shades.

"Well, you're always um... with your girlfriend." You say softly, and Satoru frowns then, his thin white brows together.

"So we can't still be friends?" He says, hurt in his voice, and you sigh, looking away. "I'm friends with Shoko, Mei, even Hime, why can't I be friends with you anymore! She's cool, you know."

"Um, because it's just different, I'm sorry, Satoru. I miss you too, though." He contemplates you then, stopping you in the middle of the road, where cars are driving by and the rain is pattering all over the ground around you.

"Look at me, please." He asks in that husky voice.

You tilt your chin up, looking at the tall, white haired best friend that you'd been in love with for so long. You suck in a breath then, as you realize how close you two are, so close your nipples are brushed against his chest, embarrassingly perked up from the cold air and from... Well, him, Satoru.

"Do you not like her?" He asks, and you shake your head. "It's not that serious, if my best friend thinks she's not a good person-"

"She seems great, Satoru. She's so pretty and sweet and you both look great together." You blink back tears, as he looks even more confused, lips parted as he touches your cheek.

"You're crying? Why what's wrong?" He asks, so fucking clueless, but it's not like you ever confessed to your goofy bestie. You swipe your tears, looking down.

"Not crying, it's the rain."

"We're under an-"

"It's the rain!" You choke on a sob then, and he brushes away a tear, you push his hand down. "You shouldn't do that. You have a girlfriend, Satoru."

"I don't understand, you avoid me all the time, you don't even hang out with the friend group. We all miss you!"

"It hurts too much."

His snowy lashes blink in confusion. "What hurts? I'm so confused, could you please just talk to me? Like we used to tell each other anything, remember that big crush you had on Geto?” He is trying to lighten the mood, smiling at you, and you take a shaky breath.

“I didn’t say I had a crush on Geto.”

“Sure ya did! You said your best friend, that’s either me or Geto silly! And I kept your secret and everything.” He says, and you laugh then, at the absurdity of it.

“Satoru, you're so dense.” You grumble now.

“Ya callin me fat I’m so skinny!?” He asks, his hand on his chest, gasping, as you roll your eyes.

“Oh my God. Let’s just get home.”

“No, we’re standing here until you talk to me again. You’re being a mean little brat, just like in sixth grade!” He yanks on one of your braids now, and earns your scowl, as you cross your arms, still getting pelted by rain, safe under the umbrella.

“You were mean then, always throwing paper balls at me, little shit!”

“Yeah and you would trip me!”

“And you would yank on my hair!”

“Because it’s cute, duh.” He yanks it again, sticking his tongue out, and you stick yours out right back, until he bursts into laughter, shaking his head and bending down as he doubles over.

“What’s so funny?” You demand, and he has to take several breaths, rubbing his eyes at how funny he thinks this is.

“You’re just so adorable when you’re mad.”

You scoff, stomping your foot, your boot splashing in the puddling water below you. “Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Whatever, I’m not going to be close like I was when you’re with a girl, there’s nothing else I’m going to say.”

“So you were never my friend at all.” You turn as you all walk again, and his lip is trembling, making your heart falter.

“I am always your friend, just I can’t be anymore. I’ll always be here if you need me, always care about you, but I can’t.”

“I just don’t understand, would you just-” Satoru grabs your wrist as you run to the awning in front of your dorm, and you can barely hear him as the weather gets insane, the rain pounding now. His big hand, his long fingers around your delicate wrist makes you heat up, exhaling, thighs shifting at how good it feels. “Just stay my friend, I love you, you know.”

Love means something different to Satoru than to you.

You don’t love Satoru Gojo like a ‘friend’ no you’re just in love with him.

“Satoru I am jealous, okay?”

He blinks in confusion. “But I’ll still spend time with you!”

“Not that, I’m jealous of her okay? She’s pretty and popular, and she has you as a boyfriend, you’re popular and handsome. You both work so well. Prom queen and Prom King. And what am I?” He frowns again, his brow furrowing as you try to turn away, and he yanks a braid, making you scowl, shoving at him. “Stop that.”

“You’re pretty, and you have friends, what is this? Why would you be jealous of a girl, you’re not like that, you don’t compare yourself. It’s one of my favorite things about you, that you’re just like one of the guys-”

“I’m not though. I am a girl, I do compare.”

“Why her?” Satoru asks softly, you sigh, eyes shut as you feel yourself falling more and more, hopeless.

“You should ask yourself why. I have to go, Satoru. Thanks for walking me home.”

“Please, just talk to me?” He asks, and you feel those tears return as you have to stay away, you can’t stand to watch the boy you’ve loved for so long so happy, and realize it’s because he sees you as ‘one of the guys’ his ‘bro’ it just hurts too much.

“I do love you, Satoru.” You say softly, looking at him as he’s choked up and emotional, fucking confused surely, and you walk into your dorm, hiding as your back rests on the door.

Shit, you really fucked that up, but you just can’t look at him, his beautiful smile as he’s holding her, as they kiss and she runs her hand through his silky white hair. You’ve had it bad since you met him, since he yanked on your pigtails and you two picked on each other, even then.

Now it’s so much worse.

You hop on Instagram, the first picture is her kissing Satoru’s cheek, and him cheesing and throwing a peace sign, with so many likes it’s unreal, Satoru was crazy popular on Insta, and so was his lovely girlfriend. You couldn’t even hate her because she was so nice, to you as well, she was cool, she was perfect for him, and he seemed so happy.

So you would never ruin it, but you can’t stomach it anymore. Now you get a message, from Suguru, asking you out, and you flush, typing back curiously, he was Satoru’s best friend, so you never would consider it. But then his next message makes you realize his intent, and you call him.

“Suguru! What you’re crazy!” He chuckles over the phone, as you lay on your bed in a huff.

“We all know you got it bad, why not see if he feels the same? Oh and I’ll put on a show too.” You snort at that, rolling over on your tummy, your ankles crossing as you hold the sleek black phone to your ear.

“What you’re gonna kiss me, Suguru? In front of him!”

“I sure will. You’ll love it so much, you’ll want me instead.”

“Pshh. But what if he doesn’t…”

Suguru sighs. “He’s so dense he doesn’t realize he actually has feelings, just trust me, worse comes to worse you get a free meal and a kiss from me.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, fine, I’m in!”

“Perfect, tomorrow night, we’ll head to the same restaurant they are going to, the details are already on IG. Dress sexy.” He purrs those words.

*****

“What… what are you two… Suguru… I…” Satoru is sputtering as you’re cozied up next to Suguru at the fancy sushi bar the next night, and you’re dressed in a sexy little black dress you got just for this. Satoru’s enamored as he takes you in, hair straight and silky, makeup decorating your cheeks, just a bit, and bright red lipstick. “And what are you wearing young lady!?”

“She looks hot.” Satoru’s girlfriend says, winking at you, and fuck she’s just SO NICE ugh. You smile back, standing then and waving at her.

“You look hot too!” You say, she laughs then, clinging to Satoru.

“She’s a grown up, silly. Hey Geto!”

“Hey there.” Geto waves at her too, putting an arm around you, watching Satoru’s face turn dark as he eyes his hand on your bare arm. “It’s good to see you all, but we did want some alone time. First date.”

Satoru’s pretty blue eyes narrow, his lips pursing. “A date!?”

“Yeah, Suguru asked me last night, I figured why not? You know, we’re not kids anymore.” Suguru’s hand goes to your waist, as he turns you to him, smiling, all handsome with his chocolate eyes and long silky hair pulled back. If you weren’t so in love with Satoru, you would crush on Suguru, but no you love this white haired idiot glaring at you both.

“She’s certainly not a kid anymore.” He whistles, eyes raking over your body, and you can feel Satoru’s anger, as his girlfriend giggles at you both.

“You all look so cute together! C’mon Satoru.” She yanks him then, away, and you and Suguru barely hold it together, you’re squealing.

“You think he really likes me!?”

“Course he does, look at our boy, all pouty.” Satoru is pouting over the menu, as his girlfriend is taking selfies next to him, in several poses.

“She’s so pretty…”

“You’re gorgeous, you know.” You melt at that, sighing and hugging Suguru tightly. “Oooh, this is even better, he’s so mad.” Suguru whispers, and you can’t stop your little smirk.

You all go about the evening, as Satoru’s eyes dart between you both, and soon Suguru’s phone is blinging, and he’s smirking as he leans back and reads them. “What is it!” You whisper.

“Oh he’s so mad at me. He’s furious. Lemme tell him to pay attention to his girlfriend. Ah- look.” You look over at Satoru, rolling his eyes and slouching back in his booth now, as his girlfriend pokes away on her phone, showing him various things. “All right, finale, love.”

“Finale?” You ask curiously, and Suguru grins, devious. “Oh shit, the kiss!”

“Hush, you’re bad at this. It’s a secret mission!” You giggle again, nodding.

“You probably just wanna kiss me.” You tease, and he brushes his hair back, winking as he leans in.

“Probably that and I wanna piss off Satoru. C’mon now, make it look real.” You sigh and nervously scooch forward, pressing your lips to Suguru’s. His lips are firm and warm, and his arms wrap around you, as you feel Satoru’s gaze burning a hole. You pull back, as he looks to his side. “Oh yeah.”

“Yeah? Let’s…” You yank him down again, kissing him fully, and Suguru is laughing against your lips, as your tongues awkwardly play together, and he’s grabbing your hip, pulling you closer.

Suddenly Satoru has walked past you all, and ‘accidentally’ has spilled a drink on your table. He grins, but he looks psychotic, his bright blue eyes so vivid they’re hard to look at. “Oops, sorry guys, just wanted to say bye! Did I interrupt?”

You grab a bunch of napkins, and Suguru is just laughing, as you rub your dress down, standing. “Shit, this is brand new!”

“Well you should be more careful. Plus, that’s not enough fabric to cover anything, gonna get a cold.” Satoru says, bending down and glaring at your exposed shoulders and chest. You glare back.

“I look pretty, thank you!”

“Yeah you do, you always do though. But…” He pauses then, blinking a bit, and then he just… walks away.

What a mess, you think, as Suguru is helping you clean your dress, and Satoru doesn’t even come back.

*****

You wake up that night to a knock on your door, you yawn, as it keeps getting louder and louder. “Oh god, hold on I’m coming.”

Satoru is there, and he’s so serious, you wipe your eyes, so bleary, as you stand there in your pajamas, his eyes rove over them, you’re in a little black crop and kitty shorts, barely covered. But Satoru had seen you like this plenty, you all had stayed nights at each other’s houses and everything, but something feels… different? His eyes rake over your body, and you tense up nervously, as you feel his energy radiating in your little dorm room.

"Toru, what is it? It's like what time?" You say softly, and he shuts the door behind him, pressing you too close, you take a step back.

Satoru says nothing, and you yawn, stretching and gesturing for him to come sit on your little gray couch.

"You always come here when you can't sleep. You need some cocoa, don't you?" You tease, heading to your kitchen and putting a pod of cocoa in your keurig you keep for Satoru. "Your girlfriend should have cocoa for you-"

Satoru is not saying a word, but now he's brushing your messy hair back off your neck, standing beside you in the kitchen, as the machine presses out the hot cocoa, you gasp, hands gripping the kitchen counter. You bite your lower lip, as he's bending low, his hands on either side of yours, hard body pressed against your back, and you can  feel the heat of his body, his breath tickling your neck.

"What are you up to, are you drunk?" You ask, your voice breathy as you take his cup, the pretty blue one you've kept here. Before Satoru's girlfriend you'd spent endless nights watching movies and talking, even falling asleep on the couch together. You always wondered if he'd make a move, do something... he never did.

Satoru's hand trails down a bare shoulder, and his touch makes you ache with longing, goosebumps running down your arm, a trail of them in his wake. You bite your lower lip, shifting your thighs, feeling such pressure between them, as your eyelashes flutter shut, it feels so good to have him touch you like this. It's almost as if you can picture...

"What'd you have, one fruity drink and you're all touchy? Stop that." You smack at his hand, turning and holding out the cocoa, and he sets it down on the counter, jaw clenched. "Satoru, what-"

His lips descend on yours before you can finish your sentence, kissing you for the first time, and you melt against him, melt in his arms, as you taste his sweet breath, as he cups your face with his big hands. You're whimpering softly, and he uses that opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, swirling against your own, and then you really taste him. And fuck he tastes good.

You're tiptoeing as he's pressing you against the counter, kissing you more and more passionately, finally pulling away and leaving you breathless, leaving you stupid. You exhale, shaky hands clinging to his dress shirt and looking up at him with wide eyes, as his own get lidded, snowy lashes low over his brilliant irises, studying you carefully.

This wasn't goofy, silly Gojo.

This wasn't Gojo who didn't ever shut up.

This wasn't your best 'buddy' Gojo right now.

You shake yourself out of your reverie, as he finally says a word for the first time since walking in here. "Fuck."

Eloquent.

You shove at him then, scowling, but you feel his hard body under your fingers. "What is this, some joke? You're dating, we can't kiss or do anything!"

"I broke up with her." You blink rapidly now in confusion, mouth ajar, as he sighs, running his hand through your hair. "When I saw you with Suguru, I hated it, so much. I hated seeing you kiss someone, and then I realized... that I have had feelings for you. It's why I have scared every guy off."

"You what now!?"

"None of them were good enough, I told myself, that I was just being a good friend for you. But Suguru... he is good enough for you, so why did it irk me? Why did it make me sick to my stomach?"

You feel tears well up as he speaks, as he's so serious, and not a dense little idiot. No, he's opening up, and he's saying words you dreamed of. Your lips tremble so badly you bite them, and he sighs, thumb releasing your lower lip from your teeth's grip gently.

"I hated seeing you with her. It made me so sick I couldn't hang out with you anymore." You say softly, and he sighs, pressing even closer, bending down low, looming over you, taking over you.

"That's what you meant yesterday, yeah? I'm stupid."

"You are."

"Hey!" You laugh then, even as he's swiping your tears gently away. "I always had a crush on you but I never wanted to ruin our friendship, fuck you're as close to me as Suguru. I can't imagine not sharing my day, not hearing about yours. I never wanted to fuck that up. And what if I do, if you are my girlfriend, what if I fuck up, make you mad, make you upset-"

"Satoru, stop. Look at me." He does then, as you finally get to cup his beautiful face in your hands, and he nuzzles one so sweetly, making you melt. "If you fuck something up we can fix it. If I fuck something up, we can fix it. Just like as friends sometimes you pissed me off, or I did, we didn't just give up. But are you sure you want to date, take this step?"

"I want to do a lot more than date." He whispers, running a hand down your tummy where it's bare, and your back arches when his hand dances to your hip. "I wanna touch you everywhere, kiss you everywhere, places I've dreamed of."

"Dreamed of me?" You whisper back, and he nods, kissing down your jaw, peppering it with little popping sounds from his lips, as your nipples harden in your tank, and his other hand slides down one of your breasts, brushing against it.

"Can you forgive me for being an idiot? Would you date me?" He asks then, and you can't stop your tears.

"Toru you're the biggest idiot, because I've been in love with you since I met you, since you threw a damn spitball at me, little shit." Now he has emotion in his eyes, gulping before he smiles so brightly.

"I had such good aim!"

"Shut up!" He laughs then, and he picks you up in his arms with such ease, making out with you again, as his cocoa goes cold, carrying you to your bedroom, shoving all your plushies to the floor. "Hey now, rule number one, plushies stay."

"You've had sex already!? I'm so angry." He says with a pout and you giggle, rolling your eyes.

"Well, was I supposed to wait for you to get the hint? It's been years."

"Yes!"

"And you waited?"

"Well no. But... fine then, I'll just have to make you forget anyone else." He says softly, fingers brushing your shorts to the side, feeling you so wet, and he moans at that, licking an already glossy lip as you gasp, clinging to him.

"And will I make you forget anyone? Including your pretty Insta baddie?" You tease softly, and he smirks then, sliding a thumb up to circle your clit, eyes never leaving your face, watching every expression. You can't stop the soft moan from leaving your mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're so pretty like this." He says, and you're pulling his face down, kissing him as he does slide his fingers in, to the hilt, and you're crying out at how good it feels. He moans softly into your lips, biting your lower one. "You gonna make me forget huh?"

"Sure will- ah!" Satoru's pressing his fingers up now, on that little spot that has you seeing stars, and you’re dripping wetness down his fingers, down his hands, you hear it so squishy in your quiet room. He’s exhaling as he's sliding your top up, whistling when your tits bounce out.

"Holy fuck you're perfect." He whispers, bending down to suck a nipple into his hot eager mouth, and you're clinging to his snowy white hair. "Think I forgot any tits I've ever seen."

"Liar." You tease, reaching down his hard abdomen, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt. "We're gonna fuck on the first date? That's against my rules, Toru."

"You'll make an exception for me, won't ya pretty?" He bats his lashes as you slide the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the beautiful hard planes of his body, chiseled to perfection. You exhale, hands shaking as you touch him, slipping down the white hair under his belly button, your eyes locking with him. "Ah- ah, I'll eat you out first, I'm a gentleman you know."

"And I'm a lady, I'll suck you first." You tease back, as he grabs your wrist, turning you and slipping your shorts off, pressing you down against the bed, your thighs spread, ass up in the air, and he can see you, he can see you wide open. He sighs, bending low to bite on your ass cheek playfully. “Toru!”

“Your pussy is so pretty, I knew it would be.” He’s kissing your lips now, covered in your slick already, and you’re shaking, thighs barely able to hold yourself up as he parts your folds with his thumbs, opening you up and then burying his face against you, making you scream out.

“Oh my… fuck!” You’re a mess when he laps his tongue along your slit, god it feels better than anything you can imagine, and he’s moaning, popping a little kiss on the hood of your clit.

“You taste s’good, sweetheart, s’fucking good.” He murmurs, smacking your ass now, and you jump and twitch, head falling back, he leans up, pulling your hair and your head is tilted back to him, and he’s kissing you. “Taste yourself?”

You just nod, whining, and he smiles, letting you go, pressing your head down into your soft bed, pushing your hips up and spreading you even wider. “What’re you d-doing?”

“Need to see every fucking bit of you, best friend, been hiding perfect pussy, perfect body from me? Terrible friend.” He licks up your pussy again, from your clit to your little ass hole as you cling to the blankets, whining at how good it feels, then he’s fucking you with that long tongue, and you’re gushing out wetness, pussy pulsing around it.

“And you were… holding that tongue back? How dare you. Ah!” He’s chuckling, vibrating against you, but then he is devouring you, there’s no other word for it, he’s pressing your waist down with one hand as his other grabs your thigh, and he’s scooping out all that wetness with his stupidly talented tongue. You’re close so quick it’s fucking embarrassing.

No guy had eaten you out like this, you had a few guys do it, and of course it felt good, but Satoru was on some other level, so good you’re mad anyone else has gotten to feel this before you. So good you can’t imagine not having it again, can’t imagine anything could feel so fucking intense, as he brings you higher and higher, his moans just urging you on.

“M’close, Toru…” You whine, so nervous, so much pressure in your tummy, he pulls away for a moment, biting your inner thigh, nipping the skin between his sharp teeth.

“Cum for me, sweetheart, let me drink you please?” He whispers, and you can see his damn pout, his big puppy eyes even as your face is buried in the blanket. “Can you do it, be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Cumming!” You scream out now, and Satoru Gojo, your best friend, is drinking it up, as it rocks your entire body, leaving you weak. He’s leaned up now, shoving two fingers in, and you hiss at the stretch, crying out at how good it feels, especially when he’s yanking you up by your hair, on your knees. “Toru!”

“Mmm, forget anyone else already?” He whispers against your ear, and you nod weakly. “Gonna need you to say it, bestie.”

“F-forgot anyone ever. S’much better. You’re s’much better.” You’re mumbling as you speak, head leaning back against him, rocking on his fingers, and he chuckles against your ear, tickling it.

“Cumming again just from this?” His husky voice does more and more, as his cocky nature mixed with his talented fingers are wrecking you. “You’re so weak here, aren’t you?”

“Mnh, cocky little- shit!” You’re cumming all over his hand, shaking violently, and Satoru’s groaning, easing his fingers out, sliding them in your mouth now, shoving so deep you feel tears start to fall, gagging you as you suck them eagerly. He looks at you, desire making his eyes so dilated all you see is a ring of blue, his pouty lips parted.

“Oh fuck you’re so pretty like this, in tears.” Satoru whispers, and you’re trying to turn then, to kiss down his body, to suck him, but he’s got an arm around your waist and you’re hearing his belt buckle. “Can’t wait, need to feel ya around me, baby.”

“Lemme suck you, meanie.” You glare back at him, and he chuckles, white teeth glinting in the evening, in your dark room with just the hint of moonlight streaming in. Satoru shocks you then, flipping you over on your back, and you see his beautiful length, thick and long with a pink tip, weeping with pearly precum. You try to stroke him but he grabs your wrist, putting it over your head.

“I’ll bust quick if you touch it, I’m too excited.” He says then, glaring down at you, and you let out a breathy laugh, but it’s cut off when he lifts a thigh, and presses into your entrance. You gasp, clinging to him as he fills you so full, just the tip at first and Satoru is moaning over you, eyes locking on yours. “Oh my god…”

“Oh my god…” You whisper at the same time, then he pushes in further, every motion you make does not escape him, his eyes are all over you, and his own eyes flutter shut for a moment as he sinks in, further and further. Finally he’s so deep his tip is hitting your cervix, and you feel so intensely it’s as if you can’t breathe. “Satoru! Satoru… Satoru…”

“Fuck you feel s’good, sweetheart. S’fuckin… ah!” He’s crying out too when you tentatively roll your hips, then he’s gripping your hips tightly, thumbs pressing into your hip bones, shoving them down into the mattress. “Don’t do that!”

You laugh, breathless, reaching up and cupping his perfect face, the face you’ve loved so long. “Don’t move?”

“Don’t yet. Ah- ah- ah.” He’s stroking in and out of you now, groaning, his thickness stretching you, and you’re clinging to his back, nails digging in, and Satoru is whimpering, he’s fucking whimpering again, and it’s so sexy, it’s so hot. How into you he is, how he’s so vulnerable, as he rests his forehead on yours, exhaling. “You’re made for me.”

“Am I, Satoru?” You whisper, and he nods then, making you choke up. “When you say that… ah! It means… more than-”

“I want it… fuck… to mean more.” He answers, pumping inside, as you hear the squelching wetness of your slutty little cunt sucking him in, even though he’s stretching you so much you can’t take it. She wants him, you want him, as he’s rolling his hips, muscles flexing with every thrust. “This means so much. It does, it does.”

“It does for me too. It does, it does.” You are crying now, as he kisses your lips, swiping his thumbs across your cheeks, his lashes so long they tickle your own cheeks, his tongue moving in the same rhythm his cock is.

Now Satoru raises one of your thighs, looking at you carefully. “Can you take it harder baby? Can’t hold back.” You nod then he moans, and now he’s fucking harder, faster, slapping of skin so loud with every thrust that shakes your bed, and your head falls back as you start to build up again. He’s got a hand under your chin, pressing on your pulse points, moaning. “That’s it, lemme feel you pretty girl.”

At his urging, at him squeezing your throat, you’re cumming all over Satoru Gojo’s thick, veiny cock, and he’s moaning, his blue eyes so vivid, the pupils just pinpoints, as he kisses you everywhere he can reach. He slides your hand then, putting your fingertip on your clit, and you whine at the overstimulation, still weak from cumming so much.

“Play with it, please, let me feel you cum again.” He asks breathlessly, and you weakly rub your clit, soaking wet and twitching as Satoru pumps in and out of your cunt over and over, making you feel like you can’t focus on this realm anymore, you’re floating somewhere, heady and dazed. “You’re so beautiful, my god.”

“Love you, sorry, love you.” You can’t hold it in anymore, and he shakes his head, as he’s pumping more and more, and you feel him thickening, pulsing.

“I love you.” You cry then, even as you feel so much pleasure, so overwhelmed as he’s got your thighs pressed up, as he’s cupping your face. “I love you too. I love you, I love you.”

“Satoru… love you so much. Always.” You whisper back, eagerly kissing him as your hands clutch the blankets below you, and Satoru is emotional above you, his tears and sweat dripping down your face.

“Wanna cum in you. Please.” He begs then, and you nod, as he fucks you even harder, slamming his lips against yours, chasing his own release. “Oh my fucking… oh my god, you feel… oh my…”

Satoru’s pumping cum inside you so deep, and you’re crying out as it makes you cum, just his thick white ribbons streaming through your pussy, coating your walls that are fluttering around him. He exhales, as you’re a twitching mess under him, pumping his cum deeper as he caresses your face, grinning at you, a sweaty, sexy mess above you now.

“I love your pussy oh my god.” He says, and you giggle, struggling to come to as you realize with a blush that his cum is dripping down you.

“I love everything about you, Satoru, I always have.” He kisses you over and over, your face, your cheeks, your lips.

“I was so stupid, I’ll make it all up to you.” He’s leaning up on his elbows, shoving two fingers in your pussy again, and you cry out, back arching, for him to suck on your nipples, moaning.

“Satoru, it’s too much…”

“I have so much making up to do. Aw, are you cryin again? Fuck you’re pretty doing that.” He smirks down at your tear streaked face, then you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into with Satoru Gojo.

Gojo Drabbles/ one shots - Masterlist

[euphorajeon]

if it's a dream (i'll come around)

— request: jeongguk + yes or no - jungkook

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff

— word count: 3.1k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, best friend!jk, most likely inaccurate desc of new york, jk is still pining, jk orders food excessively (again), cliches (sorry)

— summary: something in the new york air makes jeongguk feel a rush: a rush to admit, a rush to tell, a rush to take a leap. he's just not sure whether you feel it too.

— author's note: it's finally here!! i'm sorry for taking so long to write this request. thank you areyousure!jeongguk for inspiring me to finish this request. hah. i hope you still enjoy!! (its unedited. maybe i'll come back someday to edit.)

a continuation of opposite of sun and light of the morning. please read the first two parts before reading this!

masterlist

Jeongguk never thought that it could be so hard to walk around New York.

There are people everywhere, going in a thousand different directions than him, and they walk so fast Jeongguk struggles to keep up even with his long legs. The shops he caught his eyes on were always full too, making him turn away from the door and look for other places that aren't so filled to the brim. Maybe he should’ve gone somewhere not as touristy as Times Square.

But above all, the hardest part of his stroll today is walking alongside you and having to feign nonchalance about it.

Jeongguk’s life as a singer doesn’t really allow him to have much free time, and even when he does, you either have work, class, or anything in between. As a result, the both of you can’t meet often. Jeongguk is so used to just seeing your face on his phone screen, talking to you via a video call connection, that seeing your form walking beside him throws him off balance.

It’s a good thing your face is mostly covered by the camera in your hands, otherwise Jeongguk would’ve spent the entire day with a blush dusting his cheeks just from holding eye contact with you.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Jeongguk squints his eyes past the camera lens covering your face, searching for your eyes which are shaded by the faded black cap sitting on your head. You only respond with a shrug, gesturing towards the camera as if to remind Jeongguk of its existence. He sighs, lifting your cap with a finger so he can look at your eyes. “Bun.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me, you know?” you huff, trying to balance the device in your hand so Jeongguk’s face is still in frame. “I’m your cameraman for today, not your best friend.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Camerawoman,” he corrects, “and who says I’m not allowed to talk to you? Do you think I talk to myself the entire time I’m filming vlogs like this?”

“Seems like it,” you say. “Sometimes they’re funny, but most of the time they just make me think ‘what even is he saying?’”

A slow grin spreads on Jeongguk’s face, his eyes still trained on you instead of the camera. When you look away from the small screen of the device in your hand, Jeongguk feels like his smile could split his face into two, and it must look bizarre on camera, but he doesn’t care. What he does care about is—

“You watch my vlogs?”

Suddenly, Jeongguk feels like he is not a popular singer with fans all over the world who tune in to his regular vlog updates, but just Jeon Jeongguk, a boy with a crush to impress. The way you unintentionally confirmed that you watch his vlogs makes him feel all giddy inside that it slipped his mind that you already said the same thing this morning in his hotel room.

Maybe this is what people mean when they say love makes one stupid.

“Only to see what other stupid shenanigans you do this time,” you mumble, dabbing around your face with the back of your free hand. It suspiciously looks like you’re trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, but Jeongguk immediately throws that thought away from his mind. It must be the New York heat that’s making your face hot like this.

“Just admit you enjoy seeing my face on your phone that much,” Jeongguk says cheekily, settling for a response that’s annoying, teasing, but familiar for the both of you. Maybe he’ll address the not-blush on the apple of your cheeks some other time.

“Where was this confidence about me watching your Times Square performance, huh?” You punch his shoulder lightly, which he’s sure makes the image of him on camera shake and blur. “Saying I ‘ghosted’ you because your performance is ‘bad’. What nonsense was that.”

“Hey, I was really worried about you, okay?” Jeongguk pouts. “Besides, I still need your opinion on my performances, whereas my vlogs are usually just me messing around. It’s different.”

Whatever response you have prepared in your mind gets interrupted by your phone ringing, which startles you so much you almost drop the camera from your hand. Good thing Jeongguk has fast reflexes, immediately enclosing his hands around yours before you could do any damage to the device. Upon checking the caller ID, your expression turns to one of worry.

Jeongguk takes the camera away from you. “Take the call,” he says. “I’ll just be here.”

While you step away to do just that, Jeongguk takes the opportunity to finally pay attention to the camera that he has been ignoring for the past few minutes, checking himself out on the small screen and running his fingers through his hair while holding eye contact with the lense. He goes on social media often enough to know that his fans will cut this specific clip from the vlog and fangirl over how good he looks while doing that.

Sometimes he wonders whether you see those clips and have the same reaction as his fans. Do you see them and scroll past them like they’re nothing? Do you scoff at his antics? Do you shake your head with a small laugh?

There’s also a possibility of you not even seeing those clips at all, but Jeongguk likes to think he’s popular enough that his clips can’t help but still end up in your feed. (Also, it hurts his little heart too much to imagine otherwise.)

You come back to him from your phone call with anxiety written all over your face. Jeongguk doesn’t even need to inquire before you squeak out your concern yourself.

“The deadline for my midterm paper has been moved. It’s now due in five hours. Jeongguk, what do I do?”

The both of you end up going back to Jeongguk’s hotel to fish out your brick-ass laptop from your gigantic backpack, the camera in his hands still recording. You’ve told him that he could continue exploring New York on his own, bringing the camera noona like the initial plan was, but Jeongguk insisted on coming with you instead. Why would he go with anyone else when you are here?

Still, though, because he doesn’t want to lose the sense of exploring a new place, he drags you to a dessert cafe near his hotel, offering to hold your laptop in his arms while you walk the short distance to the cafe. Despite your protests, Jeongguk manages to convince you to leave the camera on for the entirety of this laptop fiasco, capturing every moment from the laptop tug-of-war in Jeongguk’s hotel room to his grin in response to your sulking face when you’re both seated in the dessert cafe.

His video editor would hate him for this, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. You’re here, in New York with him, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try his hardest to preserve any memories you make here.

“I don’t understand why you’d rather be stuck here with me than be out there exploring sunny New York in all its glory,” you huff while waiting for your laptop to turn on. It takes a while, Jeongguk notices, but your pout prevents him from saying anything about it. “What idiot has free time in New York and chooses to spend it cooped inside some random cafe?”

Jeongguk pretends to adjust the camera sitting on the table—angled in a way that it captures his face only—so he doesn’t have to look at your face when he says his next words: “Your idiot, Bun.”

You level him with a flat stare. “So you admit you’re an idiot.”

If it means being yours, sure, Jeongguk thinks. He really should stop thinking thoughts like these lest he blurt them out in front of you, on camera.

“I’m gonna order, what do you want, Bun?” Jeongguk asks as an attempt to steer the conversation away from idiots with feelings.

You look up from your (finally on) laptop screen with your head in your hands. “Anything except americano,” you mumble. “Thanks, Jeon.”

“Sure, Bun.” Jeongguk stands up from his seat, grabbing the camera to bring with him to the cashier. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

The way you shake your head dejectedly is so uncharacteristic of you, given you’re both in a cafe filled with the smell of baked goods—something that usually brings a light of excitement into your eyes. Jeongguk can only imagine how stressful it is being a college student and having your midterm deadline be moved to hours earlier, and to experience all this while being jet lagged from a 14-hour flight prior surely doesn’t help.

Jeongguk has to physically hold himself from ducking down to engulf you in a hug, squeeze his arms around your frame until your frown is turned upside down and he can bear witness to your smile once again. For now, he can only wish that the cafe sells the type of bread you like so he can at least alleviate some of your burden with the sweet treat.

When he goes to the cashier to order, his polite smile is responded with a gasp from the cafe worker, clearly recognizing him as the popular singer. His smile turns into something more genuine—albeit a bit shy also—when the worker mentions that she’s a fan of his. After exchanging some pleasantries with her, Jeongguk proceeds to order. He just doesn’t realize how many desserts and pastries in the display case he’s pointed at until the worker asks him a question.

“Are you here with your crews?” she inquires, still tapping away at the computer screen in front of her. When Jeongguk only stares at her with wide eyes, she continues. “We can provide individual utensils for each of you if you’d like,” she offers.

Oh. Oh. Jeongguk thought she was asking for conversational purposes. “Uh, just two sets would be fine. Thank you.”

Still, it doesn’t register in his brain that he’s ordered too many pastries for two people until he’s coming back to your table with only both of your drinks on the tray in his hands. He sets your drink down next to your laptop, on which you’re typing furiously like you’re a madman chased by a tight deadline (in a way, you kind of are.)

Only when three cafe workers come back to back to your table to drop off his order of various kinds of desserts and pastries does he realize that he might have gone overboard with his order. Jeongguk can only flash a guilty smile your way when you tear your eyes away from your laptop to gape at the array of desserts in front of you.

“Are you trying to feed an entire village?” you ask incredulously.

“Hehe,” Jeongguk offers. “I was thinking about you and how you looked so stressed out because of your deadline and I just … ordered pretty much everything … for you.” He scratches his head sheepishly while setting the camera to its initial position on the corner of the table. He hopes the camera doesn’t pick up the way his cheeks blossom with heat. Or if it does, he hopes the editor cuts this part out.

Jeongguk doesn’t know if he imagines this part or not, but your eyes soften at his words and your next words are more gentle in tone. “Thank you, but there’s no way I would be able to finish all of these by myself.”

“Did you forget that you have Jeon Jeongguk for a best friend?” There’s a smug smirk on his face now, replacing the sheepish one he was sporting a few minutes ago. He likes it when you’re soft with him, vulnerable in a way only he’s allowed to see, but that’s exactly the problem: you’re both on camera, and whether or not this gets shared to the world, it’s still not as private as he would’ve liked. So he’s back on his annoying best friend persona to stop your vulnerable side from coming out.

You roll your eyes at him, but there’s a sliver of a smile on your lips.

The both of you spend the next few minutes enjoying your desserts and drinks, with Jeongguk cutting the desserts into bite-sized pieces so you can eat them with ease. He also does not forget his job as an entertainer, showing each and every one of the desserts to the camera and making sure his delightful hums are loud enough for the camera to pick up. He’s humming along to the song being played in the cafe while chewing when it suddenly plays an intro of a song he knows by heart—and judging from the way you look up from your laptop, you do too.

“Did they know you’re here?” The smile on your face is teasing.

“The cashier recognized me, said she’s a fan,” Jeongguk explains, turning his head in the direction of the cashier, trying to find the aforementioned worker. Upon making eye contact with her, Jeongguk mouths a thank you! with a smile, which she responds with a thumbs up.

“You must have made her day by coming here. Her whole week, even,” you chuckle, going back to typing on your laptop. The smile quickly drops from your face as you’re forced to go back to thinking mode for your midterm paper. Jeongguk nudges a fork full of pastry into your hand, silently asking you to eat.

“Then would you still say I’m an idiot for choosing to be here with you?”

Jeongguk said he’d leave this topic alone, revisit it later when he’s got the courage to do so, but what can he do? Your presence here with him makes him overwhelmed with feelings that sometimes it slips in between his words.

The only response he receives from you is silence. Jeongguk doesn’t know whether it’s because you didn’t want to respond or you simply just didn’t hear him. It’s most likely the latter as any attempt he makes to make you eat the desserts are useless as you’re too immersed in your paper. He ends up just feeding you bites after bites of desserts, grateful and giddy that you take them without protests as you’re typing.

As he’s cutting up more pastries for you to eat, the song changes to ‘Yes or No’, the fifth track on his latest album that he performed live two days ago at Times Square. He remembers you telling him that your friend, Yeseo, became a fan after listening to this song. Jeongguk tries to suppress a smile by biting his bottom lip as he listens to the lyrics of the song.

Are you feeling the rush?

Are we falling in love?

Say yes or no

In an interview, Jeongguk told the public that no songs from his album are based on his personal life, although he hopes he still delivered the messages of the songs well enough. What he doesn’t say, however, is that he thinks of you whenever he listens to or performs this song. It’s a song about a person in love and still wonders whether the other person is feeling the same way. Sometimes he wishes he could be honest and sing the words to you, pour out his feelings along the way, and he wishes you could feel the same way.

Jeongguk stops his activities of cutting desserts into bite-sized pieces and leans his back against his chair, staring at you. You’re still hyper-focused on your paper that you don’t notice his gaze, typing away on your laptop without a care for the love pouring out of his eyes.

Jeongguk knows you love him.

You love him enough to answer his video call at two am when you were studying. You love him enough to sacrifice sleep to watch his performance. You love him enough to book a flight to New York immediately after even though you still have a midterm paper to finish. You love him enough to walk around JFK with a heavy backpack hanging off your shoulders. You love him enough to join him exploring New York instead of resting off your jet lag.

But does that mean you love him enough to return his feelings the way he wants you to?

As he ponders the answer to that question, his hand moves on its own accord to continue feeding you the dessert he has cut up. You continue accepting the food he feeds you, and Jeongguk thinks maybe he needs to stop being selfish and just be content with whatever he has with you right now: friendship.

Although, in this moment, feeding you desserts while you do your paper, he feels like your college boyfriend he wished to be nights ago when you were a mere video on his phone. He already dresses the part—jeans and oversized hoodie—and feels the part, but that’s the thing about parts, isn’t it? That they’re not real, that they’re only there in his head.

You have cream on the corner of your lips from a particular big cut of dessert Jeongguk just fed you, and it feels like autopilot when he leans forward to swipe the cream off your lips with his thumb. He slots the thumb in between his own lips, sucking the cream clean off his skin. The innocent round of his eyes are met with the shocked round of yours, unblinking as you stare at the thumb previously on your lips, now on his.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

You shake your head. There’s an unmistakable crimson on the apple of your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say, clearing your throat. The blush on your face remains, and if Jeongguk’s sight serves him right, deepens instead. “Just, remember that you’re on camera the next time you want to do that.”

“So I can do it again if I turn off the camera?”

Jeongguk surprises himself by how steady he sounds. A tad too serious, too, and if he’s not careful, you might take it that he really wants to do it again, for real. His heart hammers in his chest as his hand inches towards the camera, fingers ready to turn the device off.

“Jeongguk,” you say slowly in a warning tone. “Namjoon will kill me if you try anything funny.”

Letting out his signature big grin, Jeongguk retracts his hand from the camera.

“Sorry, Bun. I’ll let you finish your paper in peace now.”

If you have cream on your lips again, maybe he’ll swipe it off with his lips instead. Maybe later, when he has the courage to. Maybe later, when he’s let you know how he really feels.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

a/n: thank you for reading! i still have 1 (one) more idea for this couple pair of bestfriends but not sure if i have the brain capacity to actually write it out ahaha let me know if you want to see more of them though :D

[sapphic-bats]

Warlock asks Nanny about it once.

She’s cutting apples for him, just the way he likes, and he’s gazing out of the window at the lush, green gardens that his mother so proudly upholds. Among the waxy leaves and spindly saplings, Brother Francis tends to the flora carefully, though Warlock’s quite sure he’s just taking certain leaves between his finger and his thumb, and studying them closely. But what did Warlock know about gardening?

He notices Nanny looking out those windows, too. Though she always gazes and stares with a deep intent, as if she only cares when she does, and it so happens that she never looks upon the garden empty.

What was that funny thing Nanny and Brother Francis had taught him? The thing that Nanny discouraged, to which Brother Francis promoted quite devoutly?

“Nanny, have you ever been married?”

Warlock knows what marriage is. After all, his parents are married, if you can call it that. They married, once, out of love. But it’s since faded. It’s more traditional, now. Out of convenience and a general apathy to trying again.

Nanny’s quick hand stills, blade edge flat against the cutting board. With her back turned to the young boy, he cannot make out her expression. He never can, what with her poised shades she wears pointedly upon her nose. But she speaks soon again.

“No,” she replies, simply.

Warlock considers this. “Do you ever want to be?”

Nanny, who had taken up the cutting again, pauses once more. She sets the knife against the board and tilts her chin towards Warlock. “Wherever have you learned such personal questions, dear?”

She’s not refusing to answer him. She never has. She just asks in true curiosity, and perhaps a slight avoidance. But Warlock’s eight, now, and he knows how to navigate her tricks.

“Where do you think?”

At that, she pauses, lips pursed with their consistent purple tint. The lipstick she wears, that faintly stains Warlock’s forehead when she kisses him goodnight and tucks him in after a bedtime story: often about a garden, or a bird that chirped too loudly, and was cast down to the ground by the other birds. One who became the kind bird of the grounds, and took in other reject birds that had fallen similarly.

She considers his answer a moment more, satisfied with the obvious influence she’s had on him. She turns back to the apple slices.

“Perhaps,” she answers.

There is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t mind, he’s grown up with Nanny at his side, and has become quite fond of the silence. It is where thoughts are made, she said once.

She finishes cutting the apples, and plates the sweet snack to serve to the boy. “What troubles you, dear? You seem awfully curious, all of the sudden.”

Not that she minds. Nanny never rejects curiosity.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nanny, it’s just—” he pauses, considers his next words and how to place them. “You look at Brother Francis a lot, and—”

Nanny interrupts him after an audible, suspicious gulp. “Who?”

He frowns, eyes boring into the back of her head. “You know Brother Francis.”

She seems quite comically nervous, like she’s pressed a wax-seal act over her true thoughts. “Oh, yes,” she decides, too much breath coming with her words. “The gardener.”

“You like him, Nanny.”

She turns, abruptly. “I most certainly do not!” Her voice comes out a tad shrill, though perhaps it’s just outrage and scandal.

Warlock narrows his eyes, perplexed. “But you look at him all of the time.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with- with love?” She struggles with the word.

The boy shrugs. “Mum and Dad don’t look at each other,” Warlock observes. “But Brother Francis looks for you, too.”

Nanny’s mouth, ready with a retort, or perhaps a counter-argument, flicks towards a different shape. One that might be, he does? Or perhaps Warlock is mistaken. She pauses, lips pursed again, and sets her teeth.

“I’m sure he does, love.”

The plate is set before him, and Warlock soon forgets his questions. He never asks Nanny again.

But he’s reminded of it when her eyes, barely visible in the light, flick towards the window into the dazzling garden.

Years later, Warlock is nearly sixteen, and has since let the thoughts from half his lifetime ago fade. They never die, just sort of… wait. Wait to be plucked again, notes of memory leaping from their tinny strings. Like a harp.

His mother takes him into town. Soho, where he has no interest in seeing, but his mother so desperately needs a new vinyl, a coffee, and though she never says it: a moment to get away from the house, or more specifically, her husband within it.

She agrees to let him wander. She trusts him, for all she hasn’t before. And perhaps, she says, the fresh, un-televised air could do him some good.

He’s only taken two steps out of the coffee shop, where his mother remains to await her tea, before he almost runs smack into two pedestrians, arm in arm. He takes a surprised jump back, tongue set with an angry scolding, when he gets a good look at them from behind.

“Nanny?”

They both freeze in unison, as if they both know the name, and the voice that has conjured it forth once more for the first time in five years. Warlock notices something else.

“Brother Francis?” He prods, shocked. “Izzat you?”

Both of the two now turn, and everything around the three fades into blurring colors and churning noises.

Warlock would be a rotten liar if he had said he hadn’t missed them dearly. He would also be a lousy boy if he didn’t recognize them by the backs of their heads alone, he thinks. Because he would know them anywhere. They’d always done a much better job at raising him than his own parents.

They both look different now. Brother Francis seems to have had dental work done, and has cleaned up quite nicely. Nanny, though, appears to have changed her style completely. Her- his? Their? Who knows. But she still sports a fine pair of shades upon the bridge of her nose.

The pair seem to stutter, splutter with a little awestruck surprise. It’s as if they’d never expected to see him again.

“Oh- Warlock,” Nanny Ashtoreth begins, feigning a cool-headed surprise. “How good to see you.”

She sounds different too. Less of a high strain on her voice, more natural.

But Warlock seems to finally feel a gear shift, and a puzzle piece clicks into place. He glances down to the space between the two, where their arms are linked.

In his dumbfounded state, he feels a smile split the trance.

They both see it at the same time, chins tilting to follow his gaze. When they catch where his eyes are, their stares mingle together in concern. It’s a look that wonders aloud whether or not they should be worried, or blatant.

Warlock looks back up to their faces. “I see now why you two left,” he adds, grinning wider.

He can’t help it. He was right all along.

Warlock remembers something, then. It takes all of his power not to burst out into a triumphant laugh.

“I’m sure he does,” he says, slyly.

Nanny’s eyes, illuminated from behind with daylight, widen. She remembers, too. Of course she does.

And she bites back a twinning smile.

[stupidphototricks]

Nobody's doing it like Otto Chriek. He's a vampire who has sworn off drinking b-word. He likes hanging out in cellars and hanging from chandeliers. Photography is his passion, and his passion is painful and comes with a high risk of discorporation. He experiments with dark light and philosophizes about the nature of time. He figures out how to create photo plates with hardly any effort. He invents the three-color printing process. He designs a method to auto-reanimate himself. He lays down his life for the team (but then picks it up again*).

*(yes this is a joke from the book, all credit to Sir Terry)

William caught Sacharissa's gaze. Her look said it all: We've hired him. Have we got the heart to fire him now? And don't make fun of his accent unless your Uberwaldean is really good, okay? -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

"Vell?" he said sternly. "Vot you all looking at? It is just a normal reaction, zat is all. I am vorking on it. Light in all itz forms is mine passion. Light is my canvas, shadows are my brush." "But strong light hurts you!" said Sacharissa. "It hurts vampires!" "Yes. It iss a bit of a bugger, but zere you go." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

William vaguely remembered something someone had once said: the only thing more dangerous than a vampire crazed with blood lust was a vampire crazed with anything else. All the meticulous single-mindedness that went into finding young women who slept with their bedroom door open got channeled into some other interest, with merciless and painstaking efficiency. -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

"Good mornink," said Otto. "Do not movink, please, you are making a good pattern of light and shade." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

"I cannot promise an absolutely vunderful job first cat out of zer bag, off course." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

"Bodrozvachski zhaltziet! …oh, sorry, Miss Sacharissa! Zere has been a minor pothole on zer road to progress…" -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

"Zer philosopher Heidehollen tells us zat the universe is just a cold soup of time, all time mixed up together, and vot we call zer passage of time is merely qvantum fluctuations in zer fabric of space-time." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

(Sounds kind of like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff...)

"It [dark light] is a light without time. Vot it illuminates, you see . . . is not necessarily now." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

"You vanted color, I gif you color," said Otto sulkily. "You never said qvick." -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

A couple of bits that are more spoilerish under the cut:

That thing where Otto screams and (sometimes) turns to ash when he takes a picture is particularly funny if you imagine it from the point of view of the unwitting photographic subject, in this case Cheery Littlebottom:

"Ah, a vonderful framing effect!" said Otto, who'd been on the other side of the door. Click! William shut his eyes. WHOOMPH. "Ohhbuggerrrrr . . ." This time William caught the little piece of paper before it hit the ground. The dwarf stood open-mouthed. Then she closed her mouth. Then she opened it again to say: "What the hell just happened?" "I suppose you could call it a sort of industrial injury," said William. -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

And the scene where Otto goes up against William's father is just a thing of beauty.

"Ve have people like you back home," he said. "Zey are the ones that tell the mob vot to do. I come here to Ankh-Morpork, zey tell me things are different, but really it is alvays the same. Always zere are damn people like you! And now, vot shall I do with you?" [...] "You think I bite him? Shall I bite you, Mister Lordship? Vell, maybe not, because Villiam here thinks I am a good person." He pulled Lord de Worde close, so their faces were a few inches apart. "Now, maybe I have to ask myself, how good am I? Or maybe I just have to ask myself… am I better zan you?" He hesitated for a second or two, and then in a sudden movement jerked the man towards him. With great delicacy, he planted a kiss on Lord de Worde's forehead. Then he put the trembling man back down on the floor and patted him on the head. -- Terry Pratchett, The Truth

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 16/10✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: i absolutely adore your shadowpeach bio-parents au comics they flow really nicely from post to post, and i looove the balance between angst & fluff i feel as if with shadowpeach, its always either angst or fluff- no inbetween, but somehow you've found a really nice mixture of both thanks for singlehandedly keeping me in the LMK fandom haha

Thank you! Fluff and angst keep going around each other like a microwave ahah

Anonimo ha chiesto: So like with mks monkey form does he have to deal with shedding during summer I think it would be funny if macaque and Mk got fluffier during winter. Wukong wouldn't complain about a fluffy macaque though probably like sleeping with the best plushy.

Oh man I think they do indeed haha. Pigsy would scold MK bc he keeps finding fur hair everywhere in the house

Anonimo ha chiesto: You seem like someone who knows a lot about the LMK fandom, so I must ask where does the idea of Princess Iron Fan and Macaque being sworn siblings come from? Like, is it from JTTW, and im just not aware of it, I'm still trying to learn as much as I can, and I need to actually read the book. The fact that people assume I know a lot about the fandom is so hilarious (not in a mocking way, I'm just very surprised) bc like- I watched the whole show in 1 day, speedwatched Overly sarcastic production recap of JTTW and read half of the book in a week. All of this in July. That's everything that I know from the fandom.

I think it's an headcanon. in JTTW Wukong, Macaque and DBK are all part of the brotherhood so.

Anonimo ha chiesto: First off I LOVE your comic but I have the animal autism and wanted to share some Monkey facts: monkeys don't sweat like humans do they mostly sweat on the palms and feet, areas they have no fur. For overheating monkeys mainly seek shade staying under trees , increase respiration (panting), seeking water sources. Also some species might shed for a thinner coat during summer. Sweating is an exclusively human thing and why humans have been so successful humans are persistent hunters. We would often follow herds for miles waiting for them to tire and overheat while sweating keeps us perfectly cool. Humans are also the only animal to blush. Lol Again no hate love the comic I love me some Flustered blushing gay monkeys. I just have the animal autism and wanted to info dump.

Thank you for the animal fact dump! Those were actually super interesting facts!

@draxeanlxia ha chiesto: Hey question that I have no idea if you already answered but how old is MK in your BIO Parents AU? I know people (usually) believe him to at least 18 due to China’s minimum driving age but others believe him to in his early 20s. Also Mac in your AU said was ‘grown ass man’ during the baby arc. So in your AU, how old is MK?

So. in the AU he's 21 y/o. Meaning that when he arrived to Pigsy door they saw him and went "yeah, he looks around 2/3" and from then they counted on. Buut there's also the thing that he looks a little younger than that age. I wont say anything else.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Who your Favorite Lmk character??

mmmmmmm... MK bc he's monkey now. Before season 4 probably Macaque or Wukong. But I have a "thing" for characters discovering they are actually a different species and slowly gaining new/different body features bc of that, so when I saw him flickering at the end of s4 I flew to a different universe. Literally the whole reason this AU exist is because I would die for this trope

Anonimo ha chiesto: What inspired your Human Wukong & Mac designs? Mostly because my brain looks at Macaque and thinks “Cranky middle aged pirate” meanwhile Wukong’s is “That chill gay uncle” (this is based off of purely looks by the way)

Macaque is drama queen so of course he would wear a trenchvoat during fall. plus he's old inside and outside bc of all Wukong bullshit. Wukong is your friendly neighbour who lives in a sketchy house and survives on peach sodas and chips (oh wait that's just canon Wukong.)

ainnur ha chiesto: You know I like how Wukong in your comic just compare something hot with Laozi's furnace. Like with spicy food and time he help MK created the weapon. Mk: You know Wukong you mention Laozi's furnace a lot. Must really tough 49 days for you... Wukong:Yeah worst 49 years *eating peach* Mk: Can tell- wait- years..? Wukong: Yeah a day at heaven is like one year here or so..Do the math, bud *continue to eat the peach* Mk:.... what..? Wukong just casually and accidently recall his trauma because he thought it never effect him like his other trauma. Also the brotherhood have 49 years to help him but they didn't do anything. "Yeah because normally you would rush into my rescue"

Thank you for giving me this traumatic info I didn't know about. Now I will never look at Wukong the same (why did my boy have to suffer so much)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Macaque: I think I'm in love with Wukong . . . Any thoughts. Chiyou: and prayers you're going to need them.

me too bitch, the fuck

@mirror-queen226 ha chiesto: I agree about the last ask you posted (about Wukong surely wearing a dress on a date), and I just couldn't help but say my own headcanon too (with a little bit of knowledge about the ancient times that Wukong was just a child on the jttw and lmk): I dunno if you agree but okay. Honestly, both Wukong and Mac/Mihou (like i usually call him) does not care about clothes, if they feel comfortable with them, be it for woman or man, they'll wear it, especially Wukong though, I feel like he'd act like a famous diva in a on a runway showcasing new high-class clothes from Victoria Secret, Channel, or something, whilst Mac is much more discreet but not too far from that too. And considering Wukong was wearing WOMAN clothes when he was in the brotherhood in the season 4 lmk flashback, it just made me believe in that headcanon even more :) Also, I am really loving your au, it's just so perfect the way you develop every character slow and patiently, keeping their personalities untouched, not changing but instead expanding and showing them a bit more, how they are really trying to improve (Wukong and Mihou in this case) and how satisfying it is to see. I always rush to see the new updates you post about the Biodads au every time i see too, and honestly, one of the 5 best au's ever, you draw so good too, it's adorable! That's all I wanted to say, have a nice day, drink water and take care of your health! 🥰🥰🥰

Yeah true! Like they are shapeshifter, they wouldn't care what species they are, even less the perceived gender norms

Anonimo ha chiesto: Little question, while the monkeys where at Chiyou's forge, shadowpeach where still sleeping together or not?

They were all sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor (but they all were close to each other.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Generally curious what you think would have happened if MK had not been woken up and the stone wasn't broken what do you think would have happen. would he had grown up on FFM?

Aww he probably would have been raised by Wukong. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

@wolfsonic ha chiesto: I have question! Does Rumble and Sabage have sentience in your stories? Like, do they have their own personalities like MK clones do? If yes, what do they think of WuKong and MK? Also, will we see more of them? Cause I'd love Mk to meet them when he wasn't stuck as a cub and not remember.

Yeah I think they have a littel bit of personalities. They like both MK and Wukong, but would also do prank on him.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I think I won't say I'm in love from Hercules fits macaque very well

The little monkeys are the muse doing backup choir

Anonimo ha chiesto: Can we see what a courtnapping room typically looks like?

Courtnapping rooms are made specifically for the courted one, so they are all different. Basically, the room should include everything the courted person would need to live comfortable and also a collection of things they like / to pass the time /love.

It must show that the person courtnapping them is able to provide, care and protect for them. And also knows what makes them happy.

So it can be a huge castle full of jewerly and elegant clothes/ornaments or just a cozy room with some chips and video games.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Is LBD going to be a topic in your au again ?

maybe

@wolfasketch ha chiesto: We need MK interacting with his new found Auntie and Uncle please(we also new to see Red being flustered by MK while his parents are around and PIF being like "Ooohhhh")

We are VERY luky Red Son and MK didn't grew up together or we would have thier parents playing love-matching with them while they are toodlers

Anonimo ha chiesto: could we possibly get a traffic light trio and shadopeach grooming train at some point, i would love to see some bonding time between them all <3 and i would love to see mk grooming redsons hair since there's so much of it

Wait who would be the second person to be groomed? I assume RedSon hair are too hot to touch. (when he's flustered, at least)

Anonimo ha chiesto: So like how does Redsons hair/ fire work. Does it just feel warm to MK and Mei. Will it only burn/ hurt you if he doesn't trust you. Another note it must be nice having two fire demon friends during winter.

I think when he's relaxed, the hair is just- a little bit warm, then with his feelings and emotion it can go up to a bigillion degrees, so it's not harmful as long as he can control it.

[echoofadream]

subby Satoru x gn reader

Contains: jealous!Gojo, dom!gn!reader, semi-public sexual activities, handjob(m! receiving), degradation, brat taming(if you squint)

The way you were talking oh so fondly about your coworker was driving your boyfriend crazy. Was he really just a friend like you always reassured him? Then why almost every time you were going out said friend was accompanying you? And he was attractive too! Well not as attractive as the Gojo Satoru of course, or at least that's what your boyfriend always told himself when he flexed his muscles in the mirror right after you left for the bar with your friends from work.

Today was no different. You went to the bar with your friends except he found that out only when he got home and saw your note on the bed the two of you shared. Outrageous! Why didn't you think of calling him? Did he mean so little to you that you had to let him know through a plain note? He didn't even change into his casual (and unbelievably expensive) clothes and stormed out of the house in his jujutsu sorcerer uniform, making his way to the bar you and your friends always hang out at.

As soon as he got there he started looking for you. Peaking above everyone's head was easy for him and with the help of his skilled eyes he spotted you. You were sitting on the couch in the farthest corner of the room accompanied by two women. Your "friend" was at the bar paying for your guys' drinks. Satoru wasted no time and approached him, resting his elbow on the counter while his other hand gripped the back of the man's chair. The look in his deep blue eyes was anything but friendly.

"Can I help you?" asked the man, the corners of his mouth slightly rising.

Satoru looked him up and down trying to take in his attractive features, to see what was about him you liked this much. He wasn't as tall as Gojo, his hair wasn't nearly as luxurious as your boyfriend's and his eyes were a dull shade of brown. And no taste in fashion, not even a bit!

The man grabbed Satoru's arm (which Gojo allowed since he got intrigued by this sudden movement) and squeezed his bicep.

"Oh my, do you work out?" asked the man, the smirk on his face growing as he kept groping your boyfriend.

"What the hell?!" Satoru yelled and jumped back, instinctively activating his infinity. His eyes widened in shock, a slight shade of pink becoming visible on his pale cheeks.

"Aww! You were so confident a while ago and now you're all flustered? That's adorable"

Gojo remained speechless. He looked at the man, then at you in the corner and noticed you looking at him, smiling alongside your friends. So the guy you were supposedly cheating on him with turned out to be gay and to top it all he flirted with him?? Yeah, his embarrassment could be seen even by a blind man.

He walked away in a hurry and went to the restroom, too ashamed to face you. He knew damn well you were gonna follow him, but at least he wouldn't get scolded in front of everyone this way.

He waited there, leaning against the wall, paying attention to every sound he could hear around him. The door opened and closed, allowing you to step inside the restroom, barely able to contain your laughter.

"What was that for?" you asked your boyfriend. As you were getting closer to him, Satoru turned his head to the side to avoid your gaze.

"You didn't tell me you were going out..." he mumbled.

"Well you should charge your phone more often. I couldn't call you"

Oh, so that's why you left the note on the bed...yeah makes sense. Satoru's cheeks got redder thinking about it.

"Judging by the way you stormed in here and went for my friend I would say you were more jealous I might be cheating on you than concerned for my safety"

He gulped and squeezed his eyes shut trying to push away all the feelings he could detect from your presence. This was funny for you, but for him, who just made a fool out of himself for not trusting you, for letting his mind overthink again, for him it wasn't funny.

You got closer untill you were right in front of him, your hand making its way to his arm and caressing it. The height difference was hilarious, but the strongest still shivered when he felt your touch.

"Why didn't you trust me, Satoru?" you asked him, your voice gentle but still full of authority. He didn't answer, his embarrassment visible.

He lets out the most pornographic whimper when you harshly grab his chin and force him to look at you, his blue eyes meeting your cold ones. Poor boy could've sworn he was about to faint.

"Are you...uhh gonna...punish me?" he asked, his voice a breathless whisper. You don't answer, instead you push him towards the sink counter, pinning him there. Getting closer to his ear you tell him "Keep your hands behind your back". Without any complaining or his usual bratty comments, he obeys.

"Is my slut so insecure in himself he thinks I fall for any guy who looks my way?" you ask him mockingly. Your words go straight to his needy cock, his pants growing tighter around him causing him to slightly rub his legs together.

"See? You made a fool out of yourself tonight and showed all my friends what an insecure boyfriend I have. What do we say?"

"Ngh...we say sorry when ...we do something bad..." he answers.

"At least you remember that. You know I hate when you talk back to me or when you act upon these childish impulses. Do you have no faith in me, Satoru? When I say you're the only one what does it mean?"

He gulps. "It means that I'm...the only one... please-"

"Please what?" you snap at him. A moan escaped his mouth and what seemed like a tremble of his legs was actually...this bitch humping the counter.

You chuckle. "Look at you, Toru! How could I ever want another man when I have the sluttiest most shameless man at my disposal, ready to please me whenever I want?"

"Ahh~ if you're gonna punish me just...ngh do it already! FUCK!" the sound of your hand slapping his clothed ass echoed in the empty restroom.

"You wanna be a brat again?"

"N-no nnn I'll be good...please I'll be good I'm sorry I'm sorr-AHH"

Look at him taking that second slap like a good slut. Such a shame to be the strongest yet allowing this humiliating things to be done to you. Fucking whore enjoys this treatment way too much. After all, don't all his outbursts and moods (including jealousy) are just his way of saying "hey, I'm a slut! Please abuse me!"

He whimpers as you unbuckle his belt revealing the throbbing bulge his soaked boxers were barely containing.

"Look at you, getting turned on by this" you say as you press your hand on his dick, earning a high pitched moan from your boy, followed by his hips thrusting into your hand. You chuckle and slide his boxers off, his red leaking tip making direct contact with the cold counter.

"Ahh~ fuckk" Satoru whined, instinctively pulling away only to be pressed closer to the sink by your body against his back.

"Now, now, be quiet will you? Anyone can come here and see how much of a whore you are" you tell him, your left hand sliding underneath his shirt and grabbing his chest, the other going down and wrapping around his length.

He was as wet as a virgin, making your hand slide up and down his shaft so easily. His whole body shivered with every squeeze of your fingers around his sensitive cock, with every twist of your hand around him.

"Look at you making such a mess baby" you tell him, referring to his precum sticking to the sink counter.

"Mm ngh- ahh~"

You chuckle when you hear his adorable voice. "What's the matter, Toru? It's too much?"

You rub his tip with your thumb, pressing hard on it, tormenting him even further.

"Ahh god ~ ...fuckkk fuckfuckFUCK AHH~~"

Your face got closer to his ear. "Are you close baby?"

He couldn't answer. His thoughts were fuzzy and his eyes were full of tears. Grabbing his chin you forced him to look forward and face the mirror. "Look how pretty you are darling"

"Ngh- plea- ahh~... 'm close.." he whimpered.

"Heh, you're getting this aroused just by looking at your reflection while I touch your cock? I wonder how easily you'll come once we get home and you'll see yourself getting fucked stupid"

That was it. It was enough to push him over the edge and soon you felt your palm getting filled with his warm cum, drops spilling over, some ending on the floor and some on the counter.

Gojo was out of breath, leaning on the counter as he was trying to calm himself down.

"Toru" when you called to him his head turned towards you in no time, his eyes widening as much as possible when he saw you licking your hand clean of his cum.

"Is this why you eat so many sweets? You want your-"

Cutting you off, Satoru pulled you to his chest. He struggled to do the hand sign since his hands were trembling like crazy, but soon enough both of you disappeared from the restroom.

[yanderenightmare]

Absolutely Starving for more Yandere Suguru and Satoru sharing their darling🤭🤭

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

TW: NSFW, noncon, condescension

gn reader

Despite your clan’s ties with jujutsu sorcery, you were unfortunately born with little talent for it.

When it came to exorcising curses or fighting others with cursed energy, you were better off pleading for your life than trying to fight for it.

And so, since jujutsu sorcery wouldn’t amount to much more than your untimely death, you were training to be an assistant supervisor instead.

A goal that you were happy with.

You weren’t much a fan of violence anyway, so even if you had been born with a special technique, it wouldn’t really have joyed you to have to use it on anyone – curse or not.

Actually, being an assistant supervisor would have been a dream if fate had been cruel enough to make you a sorcerer instead. In fact, you would even go as far as counting it as a blessing. 

Being an assistant supervisor meant you’d get to uphold your family’s respect and remain eligible while keeping you safe and happily removed from any and all manors of savagery.

It was perfect.

Or... well... it would be perfect.

If only it weren’t for Gojo and Geto always trying to goad you into training with them…

Sly smiles on their cocky faces with their hands down their pockets. The pair stood so tall, even as one leaned back and the other slouched – you could only smile shyly and shake your head no-thank-you like all those other times they’d come asking.

“You know you’re gonna be our assistant soon, which means you gotta do anything we ask~” Gojo sniggered, hunched forward with his round shades lowered to wink down at you – his stove-top blues giving you chills.

Those eyes always make you feel a little smaller than what his height already does – so bright and seizing, making you have to swallow before answering.

“I can referee, but I wouldn’t be any fun sparring with.” You excused like so many times before, biting your tongue from wanting to correct him in saying that being their assistant was most definitely not what your job was or ever would be. 

It wouldn’t have been heard anyway...

“Oh?” Gojo’s grin widened, offering a low chuckle. “I think it would be very fun…”

You never really knew what to make of him – whether he was being funny or boorish was always lost on you. All in all, either way, he just makes you feel a little picked on.

“You’re awful, Satoru,” Geto interjected on what seemed like your behalf, knocking a backhand against Gojo’s shoulder hard enough to wipe the smirk off his face and make him pull a pout.

Geto just ignored his sulking in favor of smiling earnestly down at you.

“What if you were the only one using cursed energy?”

Geto is different from Gojo, you thought. He isn’t rude. But where Gojo makes fun of you in cockier ways, Geto is patronizing in and of his own right. He’s so hard to read, yet you can't help but feel like he’s disingenuous each time he gives you that seemingly kind smile of his. 

You aren’t too sure if he’s not also hiding other ulterior motives similar to the ones of his white-haired friend.

In truth, they both make you feel a little uneasy.

“That’s kind, Geto, but I honestly don’t think it would make much difference.” You tried excusing once more, hoping it would be the last time they’d ask.

But the two boys seemed more obstinate today.

“Come on, humor us~” Geto drawled in a taunt of persuasion, tilting his head to the side, still with his smiling eyes.

“You can even use a weapon-” Gojo added, bowing once again to level your eyes with his before jokingly pleading, “Please~” 

Perhaps they’d been bored for a while, you thought. Maybe there was no turning them down this time around…

You sighed. “Okay… fine.” Raising a finger between you. “But just this once, and then you quit asking.”

The boys smiled.

“Deal.”

You followed between them as they led you to the inside training grounds, opening a door into a rather small sparring room with soft but sturdy enough floors. One wall was equipped with weapons – all ranging from spears to butcher’s knives and battle axes.

“Pick your poison, suit.” Gojo offered, gesturing to the many choices at your disposal.

You made a tiny grimace at the nickname, looking down at your suit and tie, feeling flushed but trying to keep it to yourself. It was too small a thing to let get to you, and berating the six-eyes for his lack of respect wouldn’t get you anywhere anyway. 

Besides, you had a bigger problem staring at the rack of tools before you – having such little experience with all of them.

The katana seemed as easy as any – just a long blade made for slicing – but as you picked it from its hooks, it immediately fell to the floor.

Your foot would have been sliced in half if it weren’t for Geto’s quick reflexes, having stopped it before it could.

“I think that’s a little heavy for you.” He smiled, putting it back on the shelf with ease.

You felt the urge to reject his comment and insist on using it out of pure spite but realized it wouldn't serve you any justice.

“You’re right.” You smiled sheepishly, trying hard not to grit your teeth before picking out a smaller dagger instead.

Gojo was indifferent to the altercation, standing on the opposite side of the room – stretching his long limbs, waiting for you to take your stance.

You took off your jacket, folding it neatly and laying it aside out of the way, and made your way back to the opposing side – standing there, dagger in your fist.

“Okay, so uhm… what exactly do you want me to do?” You felt so silly.

“How ‘bout you just try your luck and slice me.” He offered smugly, his shit-eating grin grating your nerves. “Or maybe you'd prefer it if I attacked you?”

Your nose scrunched with a huff at his flirty tone before you lounged at him, running at him at full speed with the knife slicing the air.

You know the basic footwork, albeit gracelessly, swiping the blade in eager attempts to carve up his torso. But he dodges every one of your efforts until finally spinning you flat into his chest. Overlapping your hands where you held onto the knife.

He tsked at your ear, his lips brushing the shell. “No, no~ you’re holding it all wrong~” He teased softly in a whisper, his breaths warm and steady against your cheek. “Let me teach you.”

You had your heart in your throat as his long and slender fingers picked and rearranged your own around the blade until you held it correctly.

“See?” He crooned, brushing his digits over yours. “Doesn’t that feel nicer?” 

You had to swallow, feeling uneasy standing snug against the boy but equally anxious to move. “S-sure-” You replied, trying not to shudder.

He chuckled lightly. “Let’s try again.” 

He disappeared from behind you and reappeared in the same instant on the other side of the room, gesturing he was ready for round two.

You begrudgingly gave it a few more tries – each time ending with your body trapped against his – sometimes chest to chest or front to back, and other times with you down on your knees and him sitting atop you like a stool.

You were panting when you were done. Lying on your back on the floor. The dagger knocked somewhere beside you. The humiliation and aggravation had washed off in the exhaustion as you felt your shirt cling to your dewy skin where your chest heaved.

Gojo stretched and walked off the mat with a yawn. “I think that’s a wrap. You take next, Suguru.”

He hadn’t even broken a sweat, you noted, rolling over and picking yourself up for the next guy. But Geto surely wouldn’t play with you as much, would he?

“With me, you should just focus on defense, alright?” He smiled softly, like always – though this time, it seemed pulled somewhat tighter in the seams.

“Okay-” You said weakly, feeling it pulse in your throat as you readied your stance unsurely, a tremor in your brow as you sucked your lip into your mouth. Geto was a little scary like this...

He came at you fast – the surprise making you stumble backward, knocking you off balance – slipping and almost hitting the ground if it weren’t for him catching you first – still with his smile, albeit even sharper now.

“No fair,” Gojo whined from the sidelines, but it was clear he was just teasing. “That was way too easy- you just gave up-”

You didn’t like any of it even a bit.

Though it was the same condescending aura as always – it seemed somewhat stifling now. Thick and heavy, soaking through your shirt to tickle your skin. Not entirely malicious, but something akin to it – haughty and amused and immoral and cold enough to give you chills.

One thing was for sure – they weren’t trying to be your friends.

“I think I’ve had enough-” You said then, crawling from Geto’s embrace and onto your own two feet. You padded over the floors and picked up your jacket, treading it on again. “I’m of no help to you other than making a fool of myself- the two of you should just practice against each other.”

“Come on-” Gojo interjected, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning against.  “Loosen up your tie and have some fun with us.”

“No. I played your games; now I’m done.” You said decidedly, struggling with why you’d even said yes in the first place. “I mean no disrespect, but my time is better spent studying than humoring the two of you.” 

You walked to the exit, but Gojo had placed himself in front of it. Looking almost taller than the door itself. His arms folded lazily over his chest with his dark glasses slanted on his nose, looking down at you with that very awful twinkle in his eyes – lips in a small haughty smirk.

“Move, please.” You said, unable to hold the spite out of your voice any longer. Now audibly and visibly very annoyed.

“Yeah?” He posed before splitting a bigger grin, brows doing a jump at his next statement. “Make me.”

You groaned. Sweaty and sore and tired of it. “This isn’t funny, Gojo.”

But he just couldn’t help but snicker. You looked so prim and proper in your suit – way too cute to take seriously.

“I don’t think he’s trying to make you laugh, angel.” Geto chimed in from behind you – his thick arms soon slithering snugly around your midriff with his chin hanging on your shoulder, squeezing you to his chest where he slouched over you.

You yelped with wide eyes once your ass molded against his crotch, blushing at the feel before the panic took you.

“H-hey-” You stammered, embarrassed in a different way than that of before. “Stop that-”

“Why? I thought you said you didn’t want to fight anymore- change your mind so soon?” He mumbled, hugging your body tighter. His bulge nestling sweetly against your tush, you could barely form the words in your state – feeling overwhelmingly flustered.

“N-no- but-”

“Right, there are other fun things we can do instead of fight,” Gojo cut off your stuttering, taking a step toward the two of you – his hand out and curling around your chin to lift your head up to meet him. 

“What?” Your brows cinched, and he thought he’d never seen you quite so discomposed.

He chuckled. “Oh, you know, like I said before-” Leaning down to your level – his eyes sharp with something you could never quite understand. “You’re to be our little assistant soon. And I suppose it’s only right we teach you what that means since it all seems so lost on you.”

Your look was so puzzled and cute – he wanted to taste it. Needing to sink his teeth into his tongue when you let out a whine as Geto nudged his nose into your neck, smelling you like a shameless curse as his hands slipped down between your thighs to palm the sweet thing found there.

“The uniform suits you, but I think we’ll have you dress a little differently.” He added, lips smothered on your neck, hot and wet – making you cringe with an uneasy whimper. “After all, you won’t need this many layers serving us.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ GETO SUGURU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[lover-of-mine]

I NEED YOUR COLOR THEORIES ON BUDDIE MATCHING AND TOMMY LOOKING OUT OF PLACE COLOR-WISE AND THE "YOU WANTED THE RED ONE?" COMMENT THAT BUCK MADE LIKE I NEED IT RIGHT NOWWW

Hello my love, welcome to the madness!

First of all, this scene is 100% about Eddie, but for a second they try to make you think that it is about bt. They start with a very odd angle of Eddie's living room, I did not recognize it at first, so it kinda leads you to believe that we are about to get some domestic bt but then the camera quite literally does a 180 and we are suddenly focused on Eddie with Eddie in the middle, they are there to help create this illusion that Eddie is okay and everything is fine, just as much as the decorations that are only placed where Chris would be able to see.

We're also back to the triangle formation they were being put constantly during Buck's coming out arc, which is interesting in many ways, because they put Eddie in the middle, and while I don't love to put a lot of weight into interviews, both Tim and Oliver have talked about the way Tommy is not gonna interfere with buddie, so I'm intrigued about the role Eddie is gonna play within whatever "finding out uncomfortable truths" means.

I don't know how to fully form my thoughts about the scene as whole, but I know yall want me to talk color, and boy, do I have shit to say.

First off, Tommy's hat. I've been going kinda crazy trying to figure out if that damn hat is green or blue, because when I swatch it from different points of the scene, I get different undertones.

Currently, I'm working under the assumption that it is supposed to be a shade like this, like a dark petrol color, that is meant to be ambiguously blue and green.

Why would it be relevant for his color to be ambiguous in this context? Well, the complementary color to red is green and the complementary color to orange is blue.

I've talked about this a lot when talking about Buck and the way they use green as his something is wrong color, but the goal with complementary colors is to create contrast, so they are making Tommy contrast Buck and Eddie's, red and orange, hats. And there's also the way the letters and the streamer Eddie is holding are red. So while Buck and Tommy are the couple and Eddie is supposed to be the one outside, visually, Buck and Eddie are presented as a unity while Tommy stands out. There's also the way Tommy's lighter shades contrast Buck's darker.

They did something similar at the bachelor party, while the green and pink aren't exactly matchy from a color theory view, their outfits are explicitly stated as a matching costume, in pastel colors, contrasting the choice to put Tommy in a dark blue color, again with Eddie in the middle.

There's something about the way that Buck asks "I'm sorry, did you want to red one?" and Tommy completely ignores it in favor of turning the cones into a flirty comment, is that on a meta-level, since the party is red, and Buck himself wears red a lot, Tommy is yet again rejecting Buck's attempt to bring him in deeper into his life, to find that space where he would fit.

Something else just because this made Alli laugh, the decorations are red, but Tommy is blowing up a green balloon, and well, green is the breakup color and that is funny on its own, but considering the way the party is red, to have him with the opposite color balloon is yet another way to show the lack of effort, to make you aware he does not fit in with the Buckley Diaz family unity, and by consequence doesn't fit in in Buck's life.

But now talking Buck and Eddie specifically. Eddie is in a warmer version of the colors Buck is wearing. They match.

Even the red and orange thing we have going with the hats. Because red and orange are analogous colors, that means they are side by side in the color wheel, and they are meant to create a harmonious look, it's about cohesion, creating visual unity, it's the same principle the show uses to make the blue and green thing work (way too long meta on the blue and green), because since you have the same base color, it's easy to make them make sense together. (Also orange is red with yellow 👀 Eddie working his way to his yellow shade queer arc, I believe in you).

About Buck and the brown. Not a very Buck color. But it is interesting that we have Buck in brown when Eddie needs support and Buck wasn't there, when Eddie needs support and Buck is trying his best to fix it, and when Eddie needs support and finally asks for it.

Buck is here to be something for Eddie to rely on, and the color brown is used for comfort, stability in a positive setting. But also, negatively, brown is used for loneliness, so they are playing with both meanings here with the way they are both in brown.

Also about Eddie and the brown. Eddie wears a lot of earth tones, but that brown is entirely way too reddish for him. And it's something because during the whole Kim fiasco and when Chris leaves, he is in maroon, they used the color as an indication something is wrong.

So while Eddie is still trying to pretend he's fine, he is still partially in that red, from the shade to everything about the decorations.

So this was yet another way to establish Buck as Eddie's support system, and that Tommy doesn't fit in.

I think this is all, if you read all this, I love you 💜

Tagging the people who interacted with this about being tagged in my metas, you can do that too if you wanna be tagged

@sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @dangerpronebuddie @ijustdontlikepeople @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell

[sweetimpurity]

I Think I'll Keep You 5

a/n: Thank you again for your patience! I hope you guys enjoy and the next chapter is already underway and will come very soon! And some more art and bots coming out as well so look out for that!

w.c.: 10.2k NSFW MINORS DNI

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“...accurate and efficient methods of decoding… further aiding us in understanding… um… complicated genetic codes… pushing preservation and conservation. Uhh… yeah.” Miguel sighs, sitting up in his seat and peering over your arm as you type away on his laptop. Sitting at a table in the middle of the library during tutoring hours. Your fingers typing for him as he speaks what he wants written. He can’t type. Not with his right hand totally out of commission. So he’s come to your open tutoring hours. And now you have a student to work on so you can get paid and he can get help with his work. It’s Saturday and the two of you have been practically connected at the hip for the past two days.

You woke up beside him yesterday afternoon after that late night emergency room run. Lazily, sleepily taking the rest of the day slowly. Walking across campus to get food since all you both ate the whole night was a few pieces of candy. Smiling and talking, shoes splashing in shallow puddles along the concrete. A refreshing feeling having moved on from the mess of the last few weeks. The bubble has popped. That bubble of sex and ignorance that felt so great for the both of you. Sitting in the dining hall, among the hardwood and tall, ancient windows of your old university; looking over the school grounds turned fall shades and the autumn breeze blowing in through the window. Trying to talk about anything that won’t add any more stress or tension. No talk of friends, or family, not even school. Really just talking about whatever comes into your mind. And the conversation is just so easy. It’s different to spend time with him outside of the dorm room. It didn’t happen very often before. A lot of your conversations were pillowtalk. It’s different talking about the other parts of your life that don’t take place right after doing the deed. Miguel is funny. And he’s a good listener when his mind is clear and he’s focused on you. Only you. 

Feels like things are going back to normal. Well not how it was before. A new normal. 

“I think it sounds good… it’s a little awkward in the intro still but we can fix it up later…” You assure him, fixing a few typos and reading it over. The library is nice and quiet as always. You didn’t have any other students come this afternoon so you have time to focus on this and help Miguel since you know he can’t really do it himself right now.

“I don’t know… feels like I’m missing something. I’m gonna include the research but it doesn't feel like enough.” He sighs, leaning his elbows on the table, pushing his frames further up the bridge of his nose and looking over the notes in his hand. His knee is bouncing under the table and you can feel the vibrations of it in your seat. He’s applying to the Alchemax grant program. A huge grant with a long essay to go with it, multiple letters of recommendation and a personal profile piece. Tens of thousands of dollars for his research project. And he’d basically be an intern there. Able to use their facilities and labs to complete the job and create a brand new study of his own. It would start right after graduation and almost definitely lead to a great job at Alchemax Industries. He sighs, leaning back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of your chair. 

“You okay?” You hum, observing his clearly distressed behavior. His knee bouncing, his brow furrowed, the sighs. He looks over at you, in your eyes. Don’t lie. “Yeah I’m fine… just… want to get this right.” 

You nod. Knowing that’s not all there is to it. But accepting it for now. “Well, maybe you should include some of your… personality…traits…” You suggest with a small smile, knowing that it will be like pulling teeth with him, clasping your hands in your lap and looking over at him next to you. 

“Like what. I mean… Tyler knows me. He’s the one that told me to apply.” [Tyler Stone. President and Ceo of Alchemax Industries.] He sighs, pushing his glasses up on his head, his dark curls becoming a little messy with the metal pushed through them, and rubbing the sides of his nose with his fingers. The ache of wearing his glasses for a while when he usually doesn’t like wearing them at all. But he’s worn them more often the past few days. He can see you more clearly now.  

“Yeah but he’s not the only one who’s gonna be working with you or deciding if you get the job or not. You want people to know who you are… know the kind of person you are. More often than not, that’s more important than the research when it comes to something like this. I mean, you’re not just applying for a grant, you’re applying for a job…” You explain kindly. He looks up, in your eyes, his eyes raking over your pretty face. He loves feeling like he can be close to you again. He loves feeling like he knows what’s going on in your head. Or maybe that’s just his need for control seeping in. Like venom in warm blood. Just sitting next to you like this. Even if he hasn’t so much as kissed you since everything went down. It’s only been nearly two weeks but it feels like an eternity. He wants to so badly. But he reminds himself that this is how things are right now. He messed up and he’s getting a second chance. He won’t take your forgiveness for granted. “Yeah, you’re right.” He admits, dropping the graphs and charts on the table.

“Maybe talk about family… inspirations… personal goals. People like that kind of stuff. People also want to know that you can be a part of something bigger than yourself…” You say, fingers brushing over the keys and ready to type what he says. “Uh…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to pull this out of his brain. He doesn’t really want to talk about his family. Doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being considered inspiration. But his upbringing and his parents’ names alone have opened a lot of doors for him in the past. His fingers fidget on the back of your chair, catching a few strands of your hair, playing with it so softly that you don’t even feel it. And he watches the side of your face to make sure you don’t notice, your eyes focused on the computer screen. Curling the strands around his finger and getting lost in touching you. Hanging on desperately to this morsel of touch. Knowing he probably shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself.

“I guess… we could say I grew up watching my parents with their business. But that’s more… financial services. When I was born, OLI was just taking off and now… I’ve watched them build it into what it is today.” He explains. You keep typing, writing it down in the notes to keep it straight. You can hear the sigh in his voice like he hates to be talking about it. You don’t know why. Mostly because he’s never spoken about this before. But if he’s applying for such a big opportunity then it’s important to include.

“OLI, I’ve heard of that, I think…” You look over at him, unsure what that stands for but you know you’ve heard that acronym before, or maybe you’ve seen it somewhere? 

“O’hara Legacy Investments.” He says with a nod and sigh, a level of disdain in his tone. He leans forward, his mind still on this essay. On beefing it up with info that might secure him this grant. Even though he’s confident his connections will get him in. There’s always a chance things might not go his way. He wants to prepare for every possible outcome. He hates to feel out of control. You stop typing. That sounds like investment banking. Like the kind of thing that makes people billionaires. 

“Is that the… that tall building downtown?” You ask, looking over at him and he nods, a blank stare in his eyes as he’s looking down at the research notes. “Your family runs that?”

“Yep.” He sighs, not offering more information so you don’t ask for more.

“Okay sooo… how would that influence your work at Alchemax?” You prompt, trying to veer back on course. You can tell he’s losing steam, you’ve been at this a while. 

“So I guess it’s not really the same as what I would be doing at Alchemax but… Watching how that runs… how many people it takes to keep something running like that. I guess something about leading teams of people working towards a goal…” He keeps thinking out loud and you keep typing, interpreting his words into organized notes and ideas. “So.. maybe about you as a leader? You think you can be a good leader…” 

“Yeah. I think so… and soccer, we could include that too.” He says, perking up and sitting up a bit straighter. Although the topic of soccer does bring his anxiety levels up a bit. Watching you type while playing with a piece of frayed material on his cast. “Yeah, captain of the soccer team, sports is always something they want to hear. If you’re a leader… organizer. And coming from SU especially, they love to see it.” You agree, typing and compiling the thoughts that come to mind. “And to know you can work in a team…” 

Miguel nods. Feeling relieved that you’re able to help him with this. He did all the more technical notes for it over the past few weeks. Organized lots of thoughts and data to start the writing process. Then he broke his fingers and that put a wrench in the process. It’s due next week and without you he’d be screwed. But it works out sort of perfectly, and a little selfishly, that now he’s spending more time with you because of that. “I think also…” 

He starts. You look over, ready to type whatever he suggests. “I’m an older brother too… that’s… I don’t know…” He mumbles. You find yourself smiling. “I feel like… maybe being a leader in that way is different.” 

“It’s very different, yes…” You nod, looking back at the laptop screen, a smile dancing on your lips. “Maybe something about… protecting… looking out for those that are important to me. Or being a good role model I guess…” He sighs. Thinking. About Gabriel. About you. Pretty much the two most important people in his life. I guess I haven’t been a very good role model as of late. 

“Loyalty… role model…” You say and nod. Typing those words in the compilation of notes you’re making in the margins. His knee is still bouncing.

“I also think you’re very passionate…” You say. He looks over at you, the side of your face, watching you type more things in the notes. Trying to create a section of his essay that can portray him as not just another applicant. “I think I’m just generally angry… I don’t really think before I do things…” He scoffs, shaking his head and leaning forward, his arms on the table, his head resting down on his forearms, looking at your pretty face from this angle. You grin and nod, giving him a look. “Yeah but we don’t have to include that… passion works…” 

He laughs through his nose, blinking softly and admiring your face. Watching your pretty eyes, the light of the computer screen reflecting in them, making them especially sparkly. It’s quiet for a moment, just the clicks of keys and fingertips. He thinks, reflecting on all that’s happened in the past few weeks. That thing with Dana keeps coming to mind. That was really a moment of lost control. Is that the passion you’re talking about? That he loses control and can’t get it back until it’s almost too late? He worries about that. Not remembering most of it because he was so angry. It sort of feels like a dream. Especially since he fought with you right after that and then everything went right to shit. 

All he knows is that Dana made it back to his dorm. He knows for a fact nothing happened. He wouldn’t have wanted it anyway because he despises her and she was drunk off her ass. But she did lie on his bed. Her perfume was all over him. And he remembers standing over her and wanting to make her hate him. Just so that she would leave him alone. That’s a level of anger he never wants you to witness, or anyone really for that matter. It scares him a bit now to think of it. All he knows is that if you think he’s loyal, he’ll be loyal as a dog. If you think he’s passionate, he’ll be a raging, burning fire to keep you warm. You think he’s anything, he’ll be that. If you want him to be. 

He fidgets with the fray on his cast. Coming off the blue material. His gaze caught on the little cursive “mine” you wrote. That night in the drug store. When you were both so deliriously tired, sitting in the middle of the floor. Having this on his arm is like a reminder. Or a promise. That maybe you’ll be his or he’ll be yours again. He’ll just have to be patient. His thumb brushes over the word, like making sure the letters won’t fall off, making sure they’re stained into the blue permanently. Do you even remember writing this? He thinks. Or were you so tired it feels like a dream? His bouncing knee still vibrates against your chair. 

“Anything else for today? We did a lot…” You ask, looking over at him. Bringing him out of his thoughts. “No, I think that’s good, thank you… but maybe next week we can finalize things and you can help me edit it?” He asks hopefully. “Yeah definitely, I’ll block out some time for you…” 

He nods, sighing and pulling his glasses off his head. Folding them up in his hand and collecting his papers. You just save the document, debating in your head the words on your tongue. Closing the laptop so he can pack it up in his bag. 

“So… you wanna tell me what’s stressing you out?” You ask, turning in your seat to face him and leaning your elbow on the table, head in your hand. He stops what he’s doing, putting down the stack of notebooks. “You can read my mind…” He smiles. 

“No, you’ve just been bouncing your knee against my chair for the past hour.” You sigh, smiling soft but sympathetic at him. His shoulders slump. “Oh sorry…” He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed for being so obvious, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. 

“It’s okay… Is it the grant? I think your essay will be good enough…” You hum. Noticing all of his distress and not wanting him to be freaking out over something he’s already spent so long working on. “No it’s not… I… I’m really glad you can help me with it. Thank you… I’m just worried about the game tomorrow…” He nods. And it dawns on you. “Ohh…”

“I actually should get going… have a meeting with the coach. Figure out how we’re gonna pull this off…” He sighs, getting up from his seat to gather his things. He’s been wracked with anxiety about the game ever since putting two and two together that he’s out for the next few weeks. It’s against the rules for someone to play with a plaster cast on and he’s nowhere near getting that removed. So the team will have to supplement him. 

“You’re not gonna play are you? You shouldn’t… not with your hand like that.” You insist, watching him get up, pulling on his jacket precariously with his one working hand. He can hear the concern in your voice. “I can’t. It's an instant disqualification… so I have to talk to Coach and maybe I’ll just assistant coach tomorrow, I don’t know…” He sighs, knowing it’ll be a struggle for the team to play without him. And they very well might not win. This is a university proud of its win streak so far. 

“If it hurts, let Coach know… you don’t have to do anything that’s uncomfortable.” You advise softly. Wanting him to be comfortable. Always. That look of care on your face makes him feel a little warm. Making him feel a little soft and fuzzy inside. He can’t remember ever being worried over like that. He clears his throat, trying not to let that feeling get to him too much, shoving his laptop in his bag and zipping it up. “I will… don’t worry about me…” 

He says it but he doesn’t really mean it. Although he doesn't want you to be anxious; he definitely doesn’t need to inflict any more emotional pain on you, he’s done more than enough of that over the past few weeks… he does want you to care. Or it’s more like… once he realized you actually do care, now he doesn’t want to lose that. 

“Just be careful… I know you’ll do well and the team will be fine…” You smile gently. Clicking your pen and watching him getting ready to leave. His bag slung over his shoulder. “Thank you… yeah I just need to chill.” He sighs, moving his hurt hand around absentmindedly to soothe the ache. “Well… the feeling you’re having just means you care. It’s a good feeling, even though it’s scary…” 

He looks in your eyes, down at where you’re still sitting. Feeling struck by your words. You’ve always been so good at that. You always know exactly what to say when he needs to hear it. He hopes to do the same for you one day. If only he can figure out how you manage to do it every time. He just nods in thanks, a renewed sense of relief inside. 

“Dinner later?” He inquires, brow raising as he’s starting to walk away. Walking backwards away from the table, his eyes on you the entire time. 

“Sure, I’ll meet you there…” You rest your head on your hand, watching him go from where you’re sitting. Watching that look on his face. A sort of satisfaction in that he’s leaving but already thinking about when he gets to see you next. He nods. Turning towards the library doors and smiling to himself, making his way out. Sneakers tapping on the hardwood floors of the academic building, sparing you one last glance. Finding your eyes still on him. A stupid sort of giddy feeling in his chest. Lopsided grin on his lips as he leaves the library.

“O’hara! Dude.” Peter’s voice brings him out of his flurry of thoughts. Watching his friend march down the rest of the hall to him. “Where you been? You disappeared again…” Peter chuckles.

“Oh yeah I‘ve just been… busy in the lab and stuff… and my application.” He lies. While it’s true he has been working on his application and piles of homework, he’s also been actively avoiding all of his friends ever since your fight. Unable to handle even the slightest of social interaction. His mind set on you and only you. But he won’t tell Peter that. 

“Dana said you were being crazy or something…” Peter huffs, his brow quirked in disbelief. Miguel’s heart starts to beat a little harder at that. Did Dana tell everyone what happened? Or her version of what happened? “What did she say?”

“Well… she’s kinda implying that you two hooked up after the party last week…” Miguel’s eyes widen at that news. It’s just not true. But that seems to be the story everyone believes so far. “MJ thinks she’s full of shit bu-"

“She is full of shit.” Miguel sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Or trying to with his cast. It was a foolish thing to give into his anger and take Dana back to his dorm. But he didn’t sleep with her. He’s not surprised though that she’s spreading that rumor around. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Shit, what happened?!” Peter flips, looking down at the cast engulfing Miguel’s forearm to the tips of his fingers. Looking at the seemingly broken hand, his eyes scanning over Miguel as a whole. Feeling like he has no idea what’s going on with someone who’s supposed to be his closest friend. “I broke my wrist but it’s fine, doctor says it’ll be fine even without surgery.”

“It’s fine?! What about the game?” Peter asks in panic, running a hand through his previously neat light brown locks. It’s against policy rules to play with a hard plaster cast for the safety of the other players and teammates. But Miguel’s the captain, their top offense and shooter. 

“I’ll be on the sidelines and Miller and Durante can take care of it.”

“It’s Princeton, Miguel. We’re gonna get fuckin’ smoked out there…” Peter huffs, going on and on but Miguel just shakes his head, feeling that anxiety rising again. The anxiety you were able to dampen only moments ago. “I know it sucks… I know. But those new drills have been helping… I’m gonna talk to coach.” 

“Alright… but Marco and Santiago need to get their asses in order before tomorrow. I’m not playing defense because they can’t pay attention to the fucking ball.” 

“I know, I know…” Miguel sighs and nods. Knowing this is all bad timing. They’ve been preparing for this game for a while now and it’s a pretty big spectacle. The stands will undoubtedly be full to the brim. It makes him tense and anxious to think about.

“Okay…” Peter huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, text me what Coach says…” He sighs, lifting his fist. Their knuckles colliding as he’s starting to walk off to where he’s going. “No more disappearing…” Peter chuckles, looking back as he starts walking down the hall, pointing a finger at his friend. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Peter says with a nod, his hands in his pockets as he rounds the corner, walking into the library. Miguel sighs, feeling that tension, that tomorrow might not go well and it’ll be all his fault. Because he can’t do more to help the team he’s supposed to be leading.

He jogs down the stairs, down another hallway and outside. The fall breeze and smell of the trees and crisp autumn air flows past his cheeks, blowing back the little curls by his ears. Hunching his shoulders up when the brisk air cools his neck, pulling his collar up and walking across the commons to get to the athletic building on the other side of campus. To meet with Coach about the game plan for tomorrow. 

“Come on guys, one more time!” Miguel calls out to the team. Dressed in his uniform, dark blue and silver stripes, school colors with the Sterling University crest on his arm, a C on his chest. Number 99 on his back. Cleats and his cast to match. It does suck he has to miss out on actually playing but he does a lot of assistant coaching as captain anyway so it’s nothing he’s not used to. Coach Dean is talking with the referees anyway. Schmoozing on the sidelines, convinced it’ll earn them less whistles through the game. 

Miguel sighs, anxious, shaking his head and directing his attention to the mobs of people filling the stands. The sun is setting, the field lights coming on and a slight chill filling the air. A buzz with that too. College soccer fans here as well as lots of students from both universities. People are excited. The team is excited as well as anxious without Miguel playing beside them. Knowing they’ll have to supplement him being out. Miguel huffs, stretching his arms and wincing slightly at the remnants of ache in his wrist, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“Come on… si yeah! ¡Mantén la posesión!" He shouts from the sides, watching the team warming up with the drills and keeping order, following them up and down their half of the field. “Marco!¡Sigue presionando! Call for it!" A mix of Spanish and English naturally leave his lips. Dark eyes follow their form and technique. Keeping everyone in order. They’re doing really well as always. But Miguel would prefer perfection. “Good! Alright break!” He shouts.

The team all relaxes, sighing in relief and collecting on the sidelines near the bench. Some passing the ball back and forth. The goalie is doing some technique in the practice nets with Durante and Miller. Others glancing at the opposing team warming up on their side of the field. “Marco, you’re gonna break you’re fuckin’ ankle doing that. Keep it light, it doesn’t have to be so fast. Slow down and go through the steps, alright?” Miguel instructs calmly, grabbing a ball and demonstrating on the turf by the benches. Marco nods, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey. 

“Just like that… keep it loose and look at Miller, he’s the one you’re paying attention to. Don’t look at Durante, he’s gonna be looking at Miller for that pass down the field. But that was still good, keep it up..” 

“There’s a lot of people here…” Peter comments, squirting some water into his mouth, catching his breath. Miguel walks over from helping Marco, standing beside his friend and looking out at the people in the stands. It’s a little more than they’re used to. Little intimidating considering this stadium seats thousands of people.

“It’s a big game…” Miguel huffs, grabbing his water bottle. Wish I could fucking play… he thinks. Glancing at Coach, still talking to the refs near the midline. They have a little while before everything starts.

It’s the end of the first half and it’s been a good game so far. Princeton is good but so is Sterling. They’d be better if Miguel was on the field to help them. He finds himself getting frustrated on the sidelines, disagreeing with the refs calls and calling out to his teammates, trying to lead and instruct. The whistle blows and the team finally relaxes. Panting and walking over to the sidelines. 

“They’re fast…” Marco pants, plopping down on the bench to catch his breath. “We have to be faster… but we’re holding our own…” Miguel says, hands on his hips and looking over the team, trying to keep the edge from his tone. He’s here to lead, not berate.

“You good?” He sees Peter covered in grass stains. Peter’s the one that’s been scoring pretty much all the goals so far. Princeton’s defense is good. It’s one of those games where no one’s going to score very many goals, it’s all about making sure the other team doesn’t get too close. “That was really good, keep doing that. And if it works better for Marco to go up the right side, then do that.” Miguel says. 

“I will… they’re so fuckin fast…” Peter pants, grabbing his water bottle and squirting some in his mouth. Breathing heavy through his nose. The team takes a few minutes at halftime to refuel and plan for the second half. Peter and Marco will have to be smart about the next plays. They’re down by two and the other team just keeps getting closer and closer. 

“I got a girl in the stands…” Peter says with a lopsided smile, still out of breath, spraying some more water into his mouth. “Yeah?” Miguel’s brow quirks at that information. He knows Peter has a lot of girls around him and friends that are girls. Makes sense, he’s very smart, an athlete, loud and the life of the party. Everyone always trying to get a piece of him. Not a foreign concept to Miguel himself. Miguel grabs his water bottle too, raising it to his mouth. “Who is she?” 

“Her name’s y/n…” 

What?

“...yeah you should meet her… she’s really pretty and smart and funny...” 

What?

Peter keeps talking, tossing a ball to someone else across the bench. Not even registering the look on Miguel’s face. Like shock and something else. Something Miguel himself can’t put a finger on. And Miguel can only half listen to Peter’s words. “She’s head of the tutoring club… did I tell you I started doing that? Dude, I’m getting paid to do some freshman’s homework and get course credit. It's like the easiest shit in the world…” Peter laughs, talking on and on. 

Miguel doesn’t understand. It’s like his brain can’t process this. Staring at Peter silently and waiting for him to say it’s a joke. But how could it be a joke?

“She’s riiiiight… there-” Peter turns, pointing at the stands. Turning stiffly, Miguel looks out to where he’s pointing. His dark eyes searching the stands and looking for your face. Hoping to see some stranger who happens to have the same name as you. But no. It’s you. 

He watches your gaze snap onto them, seeming surprised to have both their attention now. How did he not notice? You’ve been here this whole time, sitting nearly 15 rows behind him and he didn’t know? But Peter knew?

He can’t help that his immediate reaction to seeing you is relief. Seeing you up there and he just wants to smile. Wants to disappear with you and forget this stressful game. You’re like… his best friend in the whole world. But then that relief is quickly quelled when he realizes Peter is the one who invited you, he’s the reason you’re here. 

Miguel huffs. Nearly getting hit in the face when Peter starts waving at you. Stepping back and trying to make sense of this. There you are, waving back their way. What is this? He wonders. Unable to help the scowl that appears on his face as he observes Peter waving. What is this happening that he doesn’t know about or had no idea could even happen? Another bubble has popped and he didn’t even know it. 

He looks back up at you. Your eyes looking his way. But are you looking at him or are you looking at Peter? He hates that he can’t even tell. He hopes it’s him but it’s too much distance to know for sure. He just holds up a hand weakly. Waving at you. Feeling like an idiot, a total fool. And here Peter is waving at you, thinking Miguel doesn’t even know who you are. Fuck.

“Alright boys! Let’s huddle up!” Coach yells, coming over to the bench and motioning for everyone to come over. Peter moves to head over, gently kicking a ball on his way. And Miguel can’t help but keep glancing at you. Feeling self conscious. You’ve been watching him and witnessing all of this, this entire time? He didn’t even know you were here and half of the game had already been played. And all he’s done is stand on the sidelines while Peter played big shot scorer. 

Your hands wave at him, mouthing something he can’t make out. His brow knitting together as you try to communicate something to him before Coach snaps again. 

“O’hara!” 

His eyes snap to the team huddled by the bench. Taking long strides to get over there. But his mind is a mess. He didn’t even know you knew each other. 

The second half, the rest of the game, it’s hard for Miguel to focus on coaching. He’s watching the team play but it’s like a delayed reaction in his mind. Like his body is here but his brain is trying to tap into some invisible signal stretching from you to him. Peter scores again and Miguel flinches at the sound of the stands erupting. Cheering and echoing through his head. Pounding the sides of his skull.

He can’t help but glance your way every chance he gets. But every time he’s able to spot you in the sea of colors and foreign faces, you’re looking at the ball on the field. Which is always in Peter’s possession. And he can’t focus on anything except what he doesn’t know. What he can’t control. 

…

“Wooooo!” Marco hollers, the team gathering in a huddle on the field and celebrating their close victory. They won, but it was a tough game. Miguel stares almost blankly as the team all slaps hands and says good game. And by the time he snaps out of it, turning to find you, the stands are already emptying out and you’re gone from your seat. 

“O’hara!” The team shouts, bringing him out of the mess of thoughts. The players crowding him in celebration on the sidelines. Cheers and loud voices. Talking about moments in the game, highlights, certain techniques that had Princeton on their toes. All in all it was an exciting match and Peter was definitely the savior, scoring more goals than anyone and making the game. And Peter is all smiles. 

The team heads back to the locker room. Showering and warming down from the game. Miguel stands at his locker. His new locker since the punched in door wouldn’t close properly on his old one. Pulling off his jersey carefully with one hand and hanging it up. Wiping down his broad chest with a towel and hearing Peter with some of the boys walking in from the showers. His movements slow, brow furrowing, grabbing his change of clothes and pulling a tank top on, the black material bunching down his toned abdomen against his deep skin. Listening to Peter’s voice. 

His mind races. Since when did you two become such good friends? And why wouldn’t I know you were coming to the game when I saw you all day yesterday? Does Peter know that? Does Peter know we spend countless hours together? Does Peter know we have this deep connection that I’m actually working really hard to repair? He ought to. 

He listens to Peter’s conversation, as if waiting for him to say your name to confirm he’s talking about you. But he can’t make it out all the way. Something about a party, something about his car, something about the game. He watches the rest of the guys leave the locker room. Peter walks by with the guys and he just subtly, silently glares as they pass, not noticing him. pulling his hoodie on and shutting his locker gently. Pulling his phone off the charger and slinging his sports bag over his shoulder, walking out. 

He slumps down the concrete steps, the hallway leading to the exit doors, opening out to the athletic parking lot. Raking a hand through his hair, his mind a mess. He’s not used to feeling so beaten down after a game. They won, he should be happy. He should be glad. But he just feels indifferent. Or he just really needs to see you. 

When the door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? What’s about to change? You’re gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesn’t like this feeling. This is the loss of control.

“Miguel!” Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him. 

“We’re gonna get drinks, you have to come” Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where you’re standing. “This is y/n… y/n this is Miguel” 

“Yeah we know each other.” Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. He’s annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that it’s not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or… that there’s something going on… he’s not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. “Oh cool, so drinks?” 

Miguel’s a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you don’t accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good… friends. 

“Uh… I don’t know, I’m kinda tired…” You sigh. Part of you not wanting to go since it’s not your normal scene but a bigger part needing to go so you can feel like you’re really one of Miguel’s friends. Not someone he has to hide. That you can get along with them and be a part of his life. That’s all you want to prove to him. 

“Come on… please?” Peter pouts. And Miguel wants to scream. Trying to tell you with his eyes that he doesn’t want to do this. Not right now. Maybe later when he’s had time to mentally prepare himself. It doesn’t help that you look adorable right now. In your Sterling Uni hoodie with a scarf to keep warm. He doesn’t want to do this. He’d rather just go to dinner. Like always. Talk for hours and maybe even fall asleep talking in your dorm like always. Not this. Please not this. 

His eyes burning a hole right through you, trying to communicate it without using the words since he can’t right now, not with Peter standing right there. Part of him wants you to come and show you off. The other part of him wants you all to himself, not wanting to share you with anyone. But he’s trying to be better. Trying to control himself rather than try to control everything else around him. 

“It would be fun, right Miguel?” Peter asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He wants to say no. Wants to say fuck no and disappear, taking you with him. But he can’t do that now. So he just nods stiffly, forcing a smile. Almost painfully. “Yeah… come…” 

Your eyes light up and Miguel knows he’s done for. “Oh great!” You smile and Peter is instantly excited too. Talking about how great it’s going to be and how many people will be there. Miguel’s heart is pounding, seeing how easily Peter was able to get you to come. How Peter is smiling and looking at you. A sense of dread filling his chest.

It’s the usual bar. The college bar around the corner from campus where the sports teams usually congregate after a game. Or the general student body on a Friday night. Loud music and conversation, the place is packed. Football and UFC playing on the multitude of TVs hanging in the place. The team filters in all acting like they own this place. Playing pool and getting drinks, talking to girls in corners and at the bar. It’s a crazy night at least for you. Miguel’s seen nights like this before, but this time you’re here. And he won’t let you out of his sight. Even as people talk to him, trying to strike up conversation and catch up. Since everyone knows who he is and knows his name. He still keeps his attention focused on you. He doesn’t care about anyone else in this bar tonight. 

Drinks flow the second everyone is in there, laughter and loud voices, trying to be heard over the music. Miguel keeps his arm barred at your side to help get you through the density of people. Like a shield to make sure no one bumps into you. Not wanting you to be too claustrophobic or crowded. Staying nearby until you find two seats at the bar miraculously. As you sit down, Miguel quickly scans the room. Looking for one face in particular. No sign of Dana and he can relax a tiny bit. Sliding into his stool seat beside you. 

He sits down, watching how you observe the place, looking a little out of your element here. It’s clear you’re not a party girl. You’re a smart, intelligent tutor and it shows. It would almost be comical if Miguel didn’t have a fierce determination to protect you in this place. 

He leans over, getting closer to your ear to be heard over the noise. The smell of your shampoo mixed with your perfume, so close and familiar, filling his senses and almost making him dizzy. His mind flashing with moments of you in his bed. Your body under his and his face buried in your soft sweet smelling hair. He’s the only one in this bar that knows what you sound like when you come.

“Drink… Do you want a drink?” He asks, trying to be heard over the noise, his cheek brushing against yours. Pulling back to hear your response. “Yeah! Whatever is fine…” You smile, trying to speak over the chaos of people and stimulation. A bit out of your element but doing fine. Excited to be here with him and feel like you’re fitting into his world. 

He gets the bartender's attention, ordering you just a beer in a bottle. He doesn’t know if you’d want anything fruity, not that this crappy bar would have anything that good anyway. He’s never drunk with you before. He slides it over to you, watching you take a gulp and smile. You’re so out of your element here. He sighs. A swell in his chest. 

Even though he would normally be drinking a couple beers himself, he just has water in front of him. He wants to stay relatively sober. Enough to keep watch over you and make sure no one else talks to you. “Oh, I thought you were gonna get the same thing…” You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the bar and watching him sipping his water from a plastic cup. 

“Someone needs to be responsible for all these people right?” He chuckles. As captain of the team he actually does feel that responsibility. To keep people in line since he knows they’ll listen to him. “And I need to be sober if I’m carrying you out of this place drunk off your ass…” He jokes, teasing you. 

“I’m not getting drunk tonight, no way. No thank you…” You sigh, shaking your head. Looking down at the label on the bottle in your hand. Then your eyes dart around the crowded room a few times. He just looks at your face. You’re so pretty. Especially pretty in this low light. 

“Well how is the beer at least? I know it’s not something sweet but it’s probably the best thing they have here.” He huffs, keeping his eyes on you, studying you. He’d love to just be all over you and show people that you’re his. But you’re not right now. You’re his friend and that’s the boundary you both set. He’s trying his best to uphold that after his mistakes. “It’s fine… I don’t ever drink much anyway so I’m not picky…” 

He nods. Learning more about you all the time. The two of you have never been out to a bar or club before so this is all brand new. He can see how you’re a little nervous in this place. It’s not your usual hangout spot and he can tell. “Yeah, this place is pretty chaotic tonight…” He comments, looking around then back at you. “You’re okay though, right?” 

“Yeah I’m fine…” You smile. Clasping your hands in your lap. He’s attentive, more recently than ever. It’s true that he’s become like your best friend over the last month and a half. Even though it hasn’t been that long, it’s felt like a lifetime. And with how much time you spend together, it still feels like he separates you from a lot of the other parts of his life. Friends, family, everything else. You spot Peter across the way standing with some people. The only other person you even know in this place. 

Miguel follows your gaze over towards where Peter is and he can't help but wonder why you're looking at Peter or what you're thinking. He looks at the group of people around him, recognizing teammates and classmates, but notices Peter in particular.He tries to remain cool, looking back at you. "He's a great friend… isn't he… "

He says it with a little bit of annoyance in his voice, thinking about how you two have gotten really close as friends and he didn't even know it.

"Yeah he's really sweet," You smile, not really noticing his expression. You want Miguel to know that you can get along with his friends too and you can be a part of his life. "He's funny…"

His brow twitches just a bit. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that you two are friends in and out of the tutoring club. And that you’re calling him sweet. And funny. He knows how charismatic and charming Peter is, knowing he could get any girl he wants. "He always gets the girls…  he's quite the flirt…" He mumbles.

"Oh really?" You smile and scrunch your nose up, looking back at Peter and seeing that yes, there are many girls around him right now. And he must be very popular with the girls, you think. You hadn't really noticed that Peter was a flirt but you think he's charming. Maybe you're just so focused on being his friend to prove to Miguel you can be part of his friend group.

Miguel can feel his patience slipping. How you seem so oblivious to the fact that Peter is a huge flirt and that Peter was flirting with you earlier when he invited you to the bar. But he's been Peter's friend for years, of course he knows the girls flock around him. It just annoys him that you’re completely oblivious to it. He watches you watching Peter across the room, trying not to let it show on his face how frustrated he is.

"How's your hand?" You ask, taking a sip from your bottle. Gesturing towards his cast in his lap. Trying to talk over the noise in the room. The topic change gives him some relief. Grateful to think about something other than the image of Peter taking you home tonight. He lifts his hand, flexing a few fingers. "It's fine. Doesn't really hurt much right now. It's a good reminder to not lose my cool again… "

"Yeah, that locker room hates to see you comin’…" You joke with a smile. Shaking your head. Punched his locker like some guy in a movie.

Miguel can't help but smile, knowing you’re referring to him punching the front of his locker like a crazy person. He sighs, knowing it was stupid and a loss of control. "That locker had it coming though…"

You laugh at his words, his eyes lighting up watching your head throw back a bit. The fluttering sound of your laughter carrying slightly over the noise in the room and hitting his ears. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time. Make you smile like this every day. And  Peter works his way through the room over to the bar. 

"There you guys are! I thought I lost you…" Peter's face lights up when he gets closer, excited to see his best friend and you, the pretty tutor. He stands behind both your chairs putting his hands on the backs of them. Miguel’s eyes flick back-and-forth between you two. You're still oblivious. Smiling at Peter like you don't know what he's doing. Every instinct inside of him telling him to make Peter back off. But he's trying to be better for you. Trying not to lose control or act impulsive. 

"Spending the night bragging, are you?" You smile and tease Peter lightly. Leaning over the back of your chair. He did score a lot of the winning goals tonight. Peter laughs and loves any attention from you. Miguel can only listen and watch this interaction between the two of you. It's like a nightmare come to life. And he's feeling claustrophobic in this crowded place with all these people. He just wants to take your hand and go back to campus, go back to your dorm, go back to the library.

"Well you all played very well…" You hum. Looking between the two boys. You can't help but notice Miguel’s body language. Thinking he must just be upset that he didn't get to play because of his cast. But he did very well on the sidelines. 

"Peter here was especially on his game today. Princeton is tough…" Miguel says with tension in his tone, finally joining in on the conversation. His eyes flicking between the two of you but landing on you mostly. Watching your reaction to Peter's words.

"It's all in the foot work really. Reading the opponent… Gotta think about 10 steps ahead." Peter says with a grin, in his element. Miguel has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. As much as he loves Peter, he wants him to fuck off right now.

You giggle softly at Peter's joke and his obvious love for attention. Loving the way you can so casually hang out with Miguel and his friends for the first time ever. Miguel clenches his jaw, sipping his water and trying to keep his cool. You take a sip of your beer finding it's the last one, putting the empty bottle back on the bar. It seems both boys take notice. 

"Can I get you another? "Peter asks, His eyes lighting up.

“Um…" You're thinking. You don't really do this that often and you're finally getting to hang out with Miguel and his friends. What the hell… "Sure!"

Peter flashes that charming smile at you and Miguel can feel his control slipping again. Now he's buying you drinks? 

"I got it." Miguel suddenly says, waving to the bartender for another round. If anyone's getting you drunk tonight, it's gonna be him. So he can make sure you're okay. “Okayyy…” Peter huffs softly, raising his brow at Miguel’s rivalry. But Miguel doesn’t care. Grabbing the fresh cold beer bottle and sliding it over the bar in front of you. Looking back up at Peter, a stern expression on his face. 

Over the next hour and your next two beers, Peter just won’t go away. He’s practically hanging on your chair, talking to you about whatever. And because you’re so nice and sweet you just keep giving into him. Smiling at Miguel too like you want him to be in on the conversation. But it just makes him feel worse somehow. Is he really losing you to Parker? Is that how this is gonna go? 

“So… you guys are like best friends?” You ask, your words slightly slurred, cheeks pink and flushed. You’re tipsy and Miguel’s watching you like a hawk. Your beer shined lips as you smile up at Peter. So damn cute and pretty. “We are… best friends…” Peter says in a cocky way. Grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and shaking it a few times, a beer in his other hand. Miguel might be the only sober one in this place and it’s getting annoying. 

He fidgets with the same fray on his cast, pulling on it and pulling on it. Watching you talk to Peter. Forcing a smile when you look his way. It’s getting unbearable. Eyes flicking around the crowded room and just wanting to get out of here. 

“One more round?” Peter asks and Miguel groans internally. You’re both drunk, everybody is drunk and he just wants to get you back somewhere it’s safer. Peter gets to chatting loudly with some other people down the bar.

“Do you wanna leave?” You lean over, getting closer to Miguel, right up to his face and he just gives you a soft look. Admiring your pretty flushed features. He can see you’ve been having fun. “No, I’m good, we can stay if you want…” He hums gently. 

“Don’t lie, Mig…” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the noise. And his brow knits together, hearing the nickname, your soft warm voice, wanting to reach out and brush your hair back, kiss your pretty pink lips. Anything. “I’m a little tired…” He admits. And even in your tipsy state, you know it’s time to go. 

“Let’s go then… it’s too loud…” You sigh, a distracted Peter now talking loudly with Marco and Miller down the bar. Relief, Miguel thinks. He does really want to make sure you get back to your dorm okay. 

…

“Wai-I ‘ave a question…” You slur, hanging onto him and pressed up against his chest as he’s trying to get you over to bed. His big strong arms around you and it feels so good, feels so right. What you’ve been missing all this time and now it just feels like everything is perfect and everything is good and… and your tongue still tastes like beer and… and he smells so good. 

“Yeah, what's your question?” He asks so soft and gently. His voice is like smooth melted butter mixed with sweet brown sugar. Bringing you over to your bed and sitting you down on the edge. Making sure you don’t topple over. “Hold still, I’m gonna take your shoes off…” 

“D’you think… that… um…” You sigh, the alcohol clouding everything making you instantly forget what you were about to ask him. But the thought is mixing around your brain just waiting to come out. After all, it’s all you were thinking about all night. “M-my shoe is stuck”

“I know, I’m trying to get it off…” He sighs, unable to stop the smile when he hears your little whine. You are pretty cute like this and he likes helping you. Kneeling down in front of you and taking your shoe onto his knee to undo the laces, slipping it off.

“Do you think that… all your friends… that they like-like it?” You sigh, wiggling your toes in your socks as he slides your shoe off. His hands on your calves, absentmindedly caressing up and down, having you in his hands like this is too good to pass up, but he looks up at you at your question. His brow furrowing, wondering what you mean. “Do they like what,-?” He almost called you baby right there. But stopped himself. Maybe it’s just being like this with you right now. Being close and finally being needy for his help, needing him in any way. Or the way you seem so soft and fragile right now he just wants to protect you. 

“That they like me…” You sigh. Pushing a hand through your hair and he pulls your other shoe off, your feet freeing and legs dangling off the side of the bed. 

He looks up at you, piecing together your broken sentence. Do his friends like you? Peter? 

“Like P-peter… does Peter like me?” You ask and his expression goes serious. Swallowing thickly and setting your shoes to the side. He knows the answer. He knows that Peter obviously has a thing for you. It’s becoming more clear you have a thing for him too. 

Miguel straightens back up, standing over you and listening to your drunken rambling. Your mumbles. “Cuz I think Peter is really nice and I think you and I can be friends… and I can be friends with your friends too…” 

He doesn’t understand what you mean. Towering over you and feeling so blocked up. Like he’s miles away from where he wants to be with you. He wants you to want him. Not think about Peter. 

“Uh… I think Peter likes you, yeah…” He mumbles. Looking down at your face. The way it lights up and his heart falls. “Really? So we can all be friends?” 

His heart hurts, looking in your eyes. So confused, not knowing what to think. But wishing he could just kiss you right now and make your thoughts stop. Or to fill your thoughts with him. If he kissed you right now would you forget Peter ever existed? If he kissed you right now, if he laid you down and pumped into you until you were a crying trembling moaning mess like all those times before, would you forget Peter and think about him again? 

“I’m sweating…” You huff, moving to get up off the bed and his arms come to steady you. “Woah woah slow down, sweetheart…” The words ooze off his lips. His hands guide you before you reassure him you can walk. He huffs, watching you walk over to your closet. He sits down on the edge of your bed, head in his hands. Feeling pathetic and so lost. Not even knowing what to do at this point. Has he actually lost you for good? Will he actually only ever be your friend now?

You’re sweating, pulling at the material of your hoodie and ripping it off over your head. Slipping your pants off and sighing in relief. Standing in your panties and bra by the dresser and looking for some comfy clothes. Your mind filled with the thoughts of being Miguel’s again. You’re friends with his friends like any girlfriend would be. So what’s stopping him? What’s stopping both of you from just being together again? Since you’ve proven to him, you can fit in. 

“Miguel…” You hum, his head coming out of his hands and looking up at you. Eyes widening seeing you in just your underwear. Gulping thickly. “Yes?” He whispers. Like beckoning to your call. Like a plea for you to just put him out of his misery already. 

You walk over to him, trying to half haphazardly pull on a big t-shirt. His hands unable to stop themselves, coming up to help pull the material down. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. This all just makes him feel somehow worse. Your body taunting him, teasing him with everything he needs and no way to get it. 

Your hips slot between his legs, standing between them and getting closer. Fingers clenching into his shirt and smashing your lips against his. His fingers splay out, shock and surprise. His eyes wide and heart seemingly stops. You’re… kissing him… you…

Heavy breath through his nose and his eyes flutter closed. Kissing you back, feeling your eager tongue tasting like alcohol come into his mouth. Letting it swirl against his lips and his tongue. His big hands snaking around you, holding you for the first time like this in so long. You gasp and hum against his lips and a chill goes down his back. He must be dreaming. 

But your hands go to his chest, pushing him back on the bed, and he’s so weak to you. His back hitting the mattress. He wants this so badly. Wants you more than anything in the entire world. You climb on top of him, clambering over his body, sitting on his abdomen and leaning down to kiss him again. 

“Wait-”

He’s silenced by your lips, trying to be dominant and licking into his mouth. You never did that before. That was always him. But right now it’s like you’re hungry for him in the exact same way he was hungry for you all this time. 

“I need you…” You whisper, pulling back from his lips with a smack. His eyes wide and breath heaving. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and yet it’s not right at all. “No baby… you need to go to sleep… you’re drunk…” He whispers, feeling so weak, his hands running up your warm bare thighs, like medicine. His cast is slightly scratchy on your thigh. Finally your body on his, your warmths feeding off of each other. 

“No please… say you want me, please you have to, don’t you want to?” You whine. Leaning over him and kissing his cheek, burying your face in his neck. He’s speechless. Doesn’t know what to say or think. He thought you were done all this time. He thought you were pining after Parker. 

“I want you… I do want you…” He whispers before his mind can even think. His hands falling from your thighs and flat on the bed. It feels wrong to touch you this way. His love for you overshadows his own selfish need. You won’t remember this in the morning. 

You won’t remember this in the morning. 

“I love you…” He whispers. Into your hair. Choking back a lump in his throat. 

“Mm?” You groan, pushing yourself up drunkenly on your hands, your hair dangling into his face under you. 

“Nothing…” He whispers. Swallowing thickly and wrapping his arms around you again. Pulling you to his chest and hugging you. Keeping you there, knowing you’ll pass out in a few minutes anyway and he can tuck you into bed safe and sound. 

To be continued…

Reblogs and comments very much appreciated!! Let me know what you think or your theories!

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