#and she wonders why literally no one takes her seriously

[iz-star]

About Zayne's nightmares...

The most unrealistic thing about Zayne is that he's a functional working adult that seemingly has put his life together at 27 not because he's young or a prodigy but because he's said to have nightmares since he was 12?? Like... I feel like this theme might be a bit overlooked but just think about it deeply, having constant nightmares fucks your mind like really REALLY bad, I can genuinely say this by experience and also as someone who has had trouble to have a healthy sleeping schedule since I was at highschool (like, for example, right now, I should be sleeping instead of writing this...).

There was a time I would have nightmares almost everytime I went to sleep during a really hard time in my life. Of course, the topic about those nightmares was almost always the same, not like the nightmares repeated themselves but they always revolved about the same things that I was actually working in therapy at the moment. Back then I was jobless and medicated most part of the time, I was pretty dysfunctional.

I suppose that's why when I listened to "Fragmented Dreams" for the first time it was the time I said "Yeah, this is my man". I love how he's always nagging MC about sleeping early because I know by experience that not sleeping properly can mess up with your mind pretty bad, and probably he knows it too. It truly is a showcase of love how he worries about her sleep like that and it also showcases how strong minded he is for enduring too much stress and remind kind constantly.

I love how healthy he is. I like to think that he's overcome all the stressful stuff he's gone thru bc of his discipline and healthy life style, but realistically it would take him some more to deal with all of that.

Yes, all of the guys have been through some very rough stuff and they all need therapy, but my point with Zayne comes with the fact that not having a good sleeping schedule and on top of that having constant nightmares can mess up with your perception of reality and induce you a bad depression or other mental health issues. Everytime I remember Zayne's main story branch when they're trapped in Zayne's dream and MC leaves him alone and he starts listening to Willian, Georgie and his Mom so he has to remind himself "It's not real, it's not real" I deeply feel that and I just want to hug him so bad :(

I think I'd like to see a card where they explore the consecuences of their past in their psyche more deeply. I can't help remembering this post which was one of the first posts you unlock with Zayne:

It was there when I just knew that even if he looked quiet, he had a lot to say but didn't know how to express.

Another thing I'd like to highlight about this is that actually I love the emotional maturity that Zayne displays about dealing with such issues like nightmares, traumatic experiences and literally being exposed to see people dying 24/7 while being someone that feels a lot yet says little. He's dealt with this the best way he can, no wonder why he came to be quite serious and inexpressive or sarcastic. Not allowing himself to express other emotions than seriousness or sarcasm was like keeping himself in check so he wouldn't spill everything he feels and considering how stressing is his job already, it just makes sense, but that didn't mean Zayne didn't feel because he feels too much and too deeply and worries sick about ppl and especially about MC.

Of course, bottling up his emotions wasn't the best way to deal with them but he never used any unhealthy coping mechanism neither, like alcohol, for example (My teetotaler King ❤️) etc. Yeah, his workaholism isn't exactly healthy but not something toxic to his mind and relationships, and I've always had a feeling that he's a big foodie and addicted to sweets to give himself that boost of serotonine he needs so bad.

That's why he compares MC with sweets, being her his favorite dessert, bc she's brought all that serotonine to his life naturally and has helped him let go little by little. When he opened to her about losing Dulcie, I had a feeling that Zayne always wanted someone to listen to him but he didn't know how to ask for it and ppl around him was too afraid to even dare to suggest it. I think even in one of his anecdotes, it is said that sometimes Dr Noah wanted to tell him something but at the end ended up saying nothing.

The fact that Zayne bottled up his emotions didn't mean that he wouldn't willingly share them, he wanted to but wasn't used to it. With MC, he's slowy started to let it go and enjoy life more, allowing himself to be sad in front of her, to express his fears (about losing her) or to express his childish tantrums and indulge in his softest side. That's why also she's not only his favorite dessert but also his best painkiller ❤️

And just to finish, I've always thought this quote by Kafka fits him so well:

"Remember, you should sleep more than other people, for I sleep less than most. And I can’t think of a better place to store my unused share of universal sleep than in your beloved eyes."

[gingeraleluke]

hey babes :) if you’re taking requests, could you do a jackie and steven hyde type of thing but with vinnie x reader?? i just love them sm ;(

𝗵𝘆𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗲

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: hyde!vinnie x jackie!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: “i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings.”

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: ENEMIES TO LOVERS!! angst, fluff, 70’s!bad boy!stoner!mean!vinnie (he’s hyde, duh), very brief drinking/marijuana use, offensive language (it’s the 70’s), cheating, some sexual content, light violence, typical that 70’s show behaviors!! spoilers for that 70’s show

𝗔/𝗡: SUPER LONG! this is literally just a bunch of hyde and jackie scenes, except with reader and vinnie inserted (some things are different obviously to keep it more original & entertaining but pretty much the same) and i kept the characters from that 70’s show and everything else the same so if you haven’t watched that 70’s show, you’ll probably be confused -> ps: since everyone calls steven by his last name in the show, so vinnie gets called hacker a lot in this!

you can also read the old kelso!vinnie fic i wrote here

this is a request that i got two years ago before i went on break. since i am a huge that 70’s show fan and steven hyde obsessed (fuck the actor), i just couldn’t help myself from writing so much.

i had a lot more planned for this but since it’s thanksgiving, i figured i’d leave it there, so let me know if you want a part two! i love and missed you guys <3 i hope you enjoy!

wondering where ive been and why it took so long? click here. 🩷

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦 ──

“he’s better than you in every conceivable way.” the confidence was staggering in her voice but she was speaking faster than she was thinking, and she’d be damned if michael got the last laugh.

sure, every girl dreamed of prom, but not like y/n did. in fact, y/n would honestly cease to function, burn out and die if she didn’t get the magical romantic night that she had been planning ever since she could walk. if she could she’d get her daddy to pay off michael to just stop being such an idiot and take her to prom instead, but as always her father was busy and frankly no where to be found. maybe a simple phone call his way would work, but than again she’d already opened her mouth and once y/n starts yapping, she can’t just stop.

her father would most likely go on about how poor and dumb the kelso’s were and insist she bring someone else to be arm candy for— and then she’d go on her ‘but daddy, i love him’ speech for the millionth time— the nonsensical idea was still better than sitting there and acknowledging the mess that she was making with her statements, but could you blame her?

i mean, pam macey? seriously? it was almost offensive that that was what micheal was so giddy suddenly about. if he wants to take that slut to the prom, than so be it.

y/n y/l/n could do better than her mediocre ex —michael kelso, anyways.

it is her world at the end of the day and everyone else was just living in it. a date to prom shouldn’t be hard to find. a girl like that is someone you’d be a fool not to be bending over backwards for.

once michael exclaimed how ‘that could be anybody’ before bursting out of donna’s front door, she knew she’d got him right where she wanted him. she loved making kelso feel like an idiot, especially when he was one (which was a lot).

her satisfied grin was quickly replaced with a pout as she gazed down at the fake fruit in the bowl center of the counter she sat at, analyzing her brain for any ideas as to what she was going to do.

she wasn’t sure what led her to the spot beside vinnie on the couch of eric foreman’s basement, but once she was seated there, she immediately began sighing absentmindedly while pretending to watch the movie on the small tv in front of them.

hacker’s legs were up on the table, his signature boots beside discarded objects scattered along the surface and his face didn’t seem to move a muscle at the girl beside him. breathing in again, she let out a louder sigh, her behavior and noises progressively becoming more dramatic and less easy to ignore.

time seemed to slow down when finally, arms still crossed, vinnie sucked his teeth and hesitantly replied, eyes glued to the screen.

“y/n, if i ask you what’s wrong will you stop doing that?”

the girl threw up her hands, defeatedly—“it’s the prom. stupid michael is taking stupid pam macey and now i don’t have a date, but i told him i did, and im a complete loser.” huffing, she mirrored vinnie, crossing her arms against her chest.

she was met with immediate laughter from the tattooed boy. still looking ahead, his chuckles grew, up until he saw the girl beside him staring at him, distraught with the most pathetic look on her face. quickly clearing his throat, he feined a smile and replied with “no you’re not!”

body language still clearly dying for this moment to be over and for the smaller girl to leave, she continued on. “it’s just that…i thought that he was gonna ask me, and now anyone who’s anyone is going, and i don’t have a date.”

“you’re right, i heard it was gonna be fun.” he claimed, sarcasm completely flying under the girls radar.

“how would you know, you’re not even going?!” the realization hit her. shocked, she put her hands to her face, making eye contact with vinnie for the first time since she arrived in the basement.

“you’re not going, oh my god. you don’t have a date…..and i bet you’d clean up nice!” she smirked. he could practically see the gears turning in her head and adjusted his focus back to the tv.

“i do. but i won’t.” he deadpanned, hoping she’d just leave it there.

but did rich, spoiled, princess y/n y/l/n ever just ‘leave it there?’ of course not!

“look, i know we’ve had our differences—“ she shifted, moving towards vinnie and putting a hand on his arm to garner more of his attention, hoping he’d take her seriously if he saw how upset she was.

“y/n, we’ve had nothing but differences. in fact, don’t we kind of hate each other?” he dismissed her, pointing out the obvious that she had purposefully been avoiding.

it was true, y/n and vinnie never got along. why would they? he was a poor misfit who was covered in tattoos and only ever cared about weed and had a fate for either dying alone or in prison— while she was a rich girl, born with a name for herself, constantly striving to be the center of attention and doing whatever she could to achieve her goals— although it felt like it more so followed her around since everything was always just so easy with her.

nothing was ever easy with hacker.

“yes, but this is the prom!” she sobbed, clutching onto him and leaning into his chest, feeling the fabric of his jacket shifting below her as he centered himself.

“y/n…come on. stop!” he demanded gently, the girl a bundled mess in his lap, continuing to cry and while some of it was hysterics, real tears were threatening to spill at the thought of not having a date. “oh, come on..” she had him right where she wanted him, “look, do you wanna go to the prom?!” he snapped, the softness leaving his voice.

“yes.” she composed herself, watching him roll his eyes while he leaned over to rest his head against his hand. while his attention was back on the television, y/n’s presence stayed.

“thank you.” she fixed her hair, watching the grimace appear on his face in response to what he had just done, or more so agreed to do.

“yeah, yeah. shut up.”

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wearing a long, purple dress and hair done up with white flowers, y/n stood at her dates door. the fabric flowed beautifully on her as if she was a painting and a part of her was excited to see michael’s reaction to it.

if only he’d been my date.

vinnie’s mom had been yelling profanities from inside their house while he had been trying to slip away to meet y/n. the girl could hear the older woman reciting ‘carrie’ quotes from behind the walls when he finally emerged from behind the door.

“SHUT UP, MA! YOU’RE MAKING THE NIGHT TOO DAMN SPECIAL!” he called back, opening the glass door and smiling at y/n as if he wasn’t just shouting back at his mother. the door slammed and he stood before the girl, a box in his hands, wearing a suit that matched hers. ruffles of the same purple color from her dress, adorned his toned chest, hidden under a large velvet bow tie. “wow, you look beautiful.”

his words had caught her off guard, the sincerity in his voice snapping her back from her thoughts. “you too.” it was true, he did. y/n never thought she’d see the day where vinnie hacker wore anything even remotely elegant, much less a tailored matching suit. she became nervous, and fiddled with her fingers beneath the sheer gloves she wore. “should—do you want me to say hi to your..?”

“oh no, trust me. shes lovely.” he quickly guided her down the steps of his house, “let’s just go, alright?”

a sigh left his lips while the box he held caught her eye as it shimmered in the moonlight. “is that for me?” she pointed, watching him outstretch his hands to give it to her.

“oh, uh…yeah.”

“oh my god, vinnie. this is beautiful.” she grasped the box wrapped in golden paper, seeing the corsage peeking through the window of it. “you know, this whole thing has taught me that i really don’t need michael to go to the prom. i can go with anyone…even you.” she licked her lips, tasting her strawberry and kiwi lip gloss before leaning in. “thanks.”

what vinnie assumed was gonna be a hug, was instead a chaste kiss to his cheek. bewildered by the sudden and foreign intimacy, they backed away from each other before the boy spoke up.

“yeah let’s not do that.”

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“look, you wanna be with her and she wants to be with you so how about you quit acting like a baby, man up and go be with each other!” vinnie took a swing of the punch he had poured, “cause this whole thing sickens me!” grimacing and brushing off kelso, until the lanky boy made his way to y/n’s table, momentarily forgetting about pam macey, his date.

vinnie had spent the prom beside his date, showing little to no enthusiasm but just enough to keep her on her feet. he posed for photos with her, constantly belittled pam’s appearance for her (despite it being all lies), and even slow danced with the girl, but it was no use. her body was sending noiseless complaints and groans of misery while she stared longingly at her ex boyfriend, who was staring back just as much as her despite the blonde woman in his arms. vinnie made his way to get y/n some punch when michael approached him, pulling out the ‘bros before hoes’ card and exclaiming ‘how could you’s?!’ after going on about how he thought him and vinnie were friends, the boy in purple finally interrupted, explaining his actions with a simple ‘she was crying, man!’

he maneuvered his way into the open seat beside pam macey, her face as blank and thoughtless as ever. quickly pulling out a pick up line along the lines of ‘let’s get out of here and have sex in a car’, he ushered her out of the building. looking back once more at y/n who was already chipper at the sight of michael beside her, leaning in and kissing him on the dance floor, vinnie adjusted his tie and droned out the blondes chatter as he followed.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 ──

eric, fez, and vinnie were seated in the foreman’s basement when y/n burst through the door with jagged, weak breaths. she ran all the way there with barely an idea as to what she was going to do, all she knew was that she had to find eric.

“eric, i just saw michael kissing your sister! okay, he’s a rat! he’s been cheating on me!” she struggled to keep her calm while the three boys gazed up at her, vinnie’s gaze more apathetic than the other two boys.

“what? no!” eric pretended to be surprised while continuing to shuffle cards mindlessly. he was in the middle of a game, vinnie and fez still holding their cards in hand. everyone but y/n and donna knew about kelso’s affair with eric’s sister. it was like a bomb just waiting to drop. he’d continuously complain to the group about how difficult it was juggling two girls at once and was constantly trying to make it work until he realized he needed to end it with laurie.

fez’s curiosity at y/n’s words were peaked and he shifted towards her, just waiting for the moment to come to the rescue. “surely there must be some kind of mistake!” eric lowered his cards and his voice was laced with a humorous undertone that made y/n feel like she was completely out of the loop. “right guys!?” he slapped vinnie on the chest, hitting his sweater while he sat there mouth agape.

“wow..sure is a mind blower!” it was the same fake voice that vinnie used when he spoke to y/n kindly. if it wasn’t some backhanded comment, it was meaningful criticism being hurled at her— his distain in the girl was apparent at all times. the same voice he used when he had to respond to red and kitty about weed and the dangers of it. fake enthusiasm.

“does that mean you and kelso are over?” fez stood up, letting the cards land on the table. y/n took in his puzzled appearance, “yes!”

“like…by over you mean..?”

“forever! i never wanna see him again, fez! this is way more than just taking pam macey to the prom— i mean laurie?! lying about that to me? and setting my house on fire? this whole time i’ve been putting up with him and he goes and does that, i mean?!” she groaned, her puffer jacket feeling progressively hot as she found herself in a steep slope that lead to tears and violence. she wanted to slap someone the more she thought back at the situation.

“to be fair, that’s only the stuff you know about.” vinnie quipped from his seat on the chair beside the couch. eric quickly swatted him with his hand while fez remained looking at the girl with puppy eyes. her blood was boiling, like hacker couldn’t get any more unlikable.

shaking her head in annoyance, she ground her teeth while spinning on her heels back to the door she entered from, knowing that if she stayed she’d end up throwing something at the cocky boy in leather. she made her way to donna’s house.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

after having time to reflect, or at least pretend to, y/n made peace with michael’s actions. she stood once again in the basement, ranting on about the breakup and her new desires to eric and donna who were cuddled on the couch.

“you sure you’re changed? because you’re yapping like the old you.” vinnie said, hand in the freezer behind her to pull out a popsicle. while he walked back to the edge of the couch, the door to the basement swung open, revealing y/n’s disheveled ex.

“y/n..can we talk?” it was like no one else was in the room, the way kelso’s brown eyes only gravitated towards the girl in question.

“i’m here, why not?”

“andd with that i think we should—“ eric grabbed onto donna, beginning to rise from their seat on the couch as they realized the intimate moment that was about to make way.

“uh, foreman?” vinnie halted him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back to the couch before sitting on the arm rest. “come on now.” he patted eric’s shoulder before taking a lick of the yellow popsicle in his hand, watching over at the broken couple and waiting for them to start bickering.

of course he was entertained.

“look, y/n, i know i messed up. i mean, i did so many things that i don’t even know where to start.”

“woah, hey! give it a shot at least, i’ll help you fill in the blanks.” vinnie interrupted kelso, continuing to eat his popsicle while smirking at the situation his friend had finally fallen in. he’d been waiting for it to finally come to light and here it was.

donna had to keep vinnie at bay while michael was shooting his shot at an apology, but every time y/n looked at him, she couldn’t help but see him and eric’s sister in that kitchen kissing again. it was like a stain on him that was driving her insane.

“i don’t forgive you kelso. i don’t want to be with you again, okay? we are done. forever.”

“woah, didn’t see that coming!” vinnie leaped off the edge of the couch, hiding his grin with the yellow treat in hand before kelso bolted out of the door again, stomping. he caught a glimpse of the tears on his face, along with the new ones that were pouring down y/n’s.

“so um…” she could feel three sets of eyes on her, all shocked at her decision and not knowing how to comfort her. she laughed at herself for being so stupid.

“that was the smartest thing i’ve ever done! and um…” she gulped, grasping her hands together and trying to keep her lip from quivering. “it’s for the best…” her mascara was clumping through her vision and the sight of donna’s sympathetic gaze was too much to handle.

she whined, completely breaking down. the couple stood up, arms open while eric cooed words of comfort and donna was preparing to hold her crying friend, but y/n made a b line straight to vinnie.

“hacker!” she cried, walking by the two and wrapping her arms around the tall boys torso. he looked over at the others for help, stunned while holding onto his popsicle in one hand. she sobbed into his neck, standing on her tippy toes to reach him.

he didn’t hug back and was instead appalled, but y/n found comfort in his presence anyways.

“why does she always come to me?” he questioned, carefully putting his hand at the back of her waist, his touch light like she was contagious.

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some time had passed, and after breaking up with kelso, y/n found herself constantly going to vinnie for comfort, despite him being the least comforting person on the planet.

he didn’t know what to do. he’d tried everything to get her to stop and talk to donna instead or just be like him and keep it bottled up inside, but y/n wouldn’t take. it was at the point where he would just pretend to be someone else whenever she spoke to him. that’s what he was doing now, folding his laundry while the girl sat on top of the foreman’s washing machine, going on about michael like always.

he smiled and gave her the cheapest advice and response possible, taking everything at face value. “yeah, i suppose that it’s important that when you have a bad breakup.. that you find friends,” he grabbed another one of his graphic tees, folding it, “that uh..sympathetic…uh…stuff.” he huffed, bending over to grab another shirt from the machine. “for support and uh…yeah..i don’t know.” he smiled.

“right…so, let’s go to the mall!” she offered, excited at the idea of hanging out with someone. sure she loved shopping, but having someone with her to shower her in compliments made it a thousand times better.

she wasn’t sure what it was that made her gravitate towards vinnie at this time. maybe it’s because he’s the only person who didn’t treat her like she was special and instead, criticized her and was brutally honest. something about it made her feel more human. whatever the reason was, she undoubtedly only wanted to be with hacker at this time.

“no— i meant friends like donna! or.. not me!” grabbing his laundry, y/n followed him into his room at the back of the basement. she’d never really been in there before, since vinnie moved in with the foreman’s.

he rolled his eyes as he heard her steps behind him. “but, i noticed that you’re alone a lot! and now i’m alone a lot! so let’s just be alone together!” he turned to face her after placing his clothes on the bed, seeing her in his room felt so out of place. “look, we’re even alone right now! it’s not so bad!”

“i’d beg to differ.” he huffed, continuing to walk away from her. once they were out of his room, she had managed to get him to agree to hang out with her. sure, he was only going since she offered to pay for his food and let him drive her dads fancy car, but a win was a win for y/n.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

after a workable trip to the mall, the two made their ways back to the car. now, sitting in the passenger seat, was y/n complimenting the new boots that she’d bought vinnie. she bought them partly because his current clothes were hideous and she was embarrassed to be seen with someone dressed like that with clothes you could only find in a bargain bin— but she also enjoyed spending money on people she cared about.

she was so used to constantly feeding and clothing michael, paying for every little thing he needed and didn’t need, that it almost felt wrong to not buy vinnie something. sure, he wasn’t her boyfriend to spoil with gifts, but that same urge she felt for michael, she felt for him.

the first sign that maybe she liked vinnie more than she expected to.

once y/n started talking about plans for tomorrow, vinnie stopped her with a chuckle. “okay, alright now!come on now, y/n. this was a one time only thing, alright?”

she could feel her stomach drop at his words, “if you’re trying to bribe me with these boots, man, you can just take them back.”

“oh..i see.” she tried to keep her head up, ignoring the pain that she felt in her chest. even her $400 fur coat she wore couldn’t hide the hurt inside.

“oh, what are you gonna do now? cry?” he mocked, playfully. while she peered out the window of the passenger seat, vinnie’s face dropped in realization. his brown eyes studied her face, looking her up and down to see the look of devastation written all over it.

“oh, man..you’re crying.” the boys usual rough demeanor softened slightly and he didn’t drop his gaze, instead leaning closer to her. “hey..y/n! come on, it’s gonna be fine, alright?”

vinnie wrapped his arm around her shoulder, silently begging her to look at him. when he completely dropped his cool guy act and started comforting her more intimately than ever before, y/n didn’t know what to do. “you’re gonna be okay, alright?” he murmured softly, pushing a few strands of hair from her face and behind her ear. “this whole thing, it’s gonna be fine alright?”

once y/n made eye contact with him, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in, putting her hand on his cheek and letting her lips touch his for a millisecond before he pulled away, frantically.

“NO! bad y/n!”

“but..you’re alone and i was alone—“

“look, y/n..i’m trying to help you out here okay? i’m not gonna take advantage of you like this.” y/n swallowed, not letting him continue.

“vinnie-“

“no, listen. you need to understand that you can do so much better than kelso. i know you’re upset but it’s gonna be okay.”

“but what if i don’t find anyone else…” she asked.

“you will, man! you’ll find somebody great!” his words were sincere and reassuring, as opposed to the way he usually spoke to her.

“see, i myself? don’t like you.”

and she spoke to soon.

“i find you abrasive,” he continued, “but if i didn’t know you, and i had never talked to you… i’d think you were totally hot.”

and with that, she felt a million times better.

“thank you, hacker.”

“anything for you, princess.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

later that night, vinnie made his way to the basement with two bottles of coke, finding y/n standing there, looking at fez and kelso.

“hey, what’s going on?” he asked, eyes darting between the girl he’d just been with and her ex boyfriend as he handed her the coke he’d grabbed for her.

“nothing! nothing at all.” she exclaimed, smiling back at kelso before looking down at vinnie who was now seated. “thank you hacker for tonight. it was very special.” with that, she leaned down and gave him a kiss that was dangerously close to his lips.

vinnie sat there processing what had happened while she made her way past the two boys and out the door, leaving a shocked and appauled kelso and a grinning vinnie.

“you guys like my new boots?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 ──

that bag.

curse that stupid bag was all vinnie could think.

y/n was clingier than ever before, doing whatever she could to get vinnie to hang out with her and it was driving him up the wall. she was like a parasite at this point.

then when vinnie told her off and explained how they had nothing in common and that she was just a square cheerleader and they’d never be best friends, it flipped a switch in her.

that’s when he found her outside with a bag full of paraphernalia that she’d purchased in order to prove that she wasn’t some goody two shoes cheerleader, and of course with their luck a cop was there. he approached them after hearing them argue when vinnie heard her express that she wanted to be with him, he couldn’t help himself but snap back at her.

when the officer saw the bag, he went to arrest y/n before vinnie told him that it was his bag and not hers, and given vinnie’s appearance, the cop believed it.

after that, y/n confessed her love to him and was positive that he loved her back, no matter what he may say. in her eyes, him taking the fall for her and going to jail, was him protecting her and she’d never felt any type of protection like that before from any of her exes.

she made it her mission to get him to be with her as soon as he was released from jail.

“guess who?!” she put two hands over hackers eyes, covering them as she stood behind him. he was alone at the hub, sitting at a table with a bottle in his hand.

“well, it’s either y/n or the cold, clammy hands of death. not sure which one would be worse.”

“it’s….y/n!” she singsonged, sitting beside him. her hand immediately going to clutch his arm.

“damn it.”

“oh, vinnie…you’re my hero!” she gushed, “when that cop found my bag and you said it was yours, and then they took you to the big house and locked you up! that was the most romantic thing ever.”

“yeah, maybe for you! i was deloused!” he scoffed, feeling y/n grab his hand and forcibly intertwine them when leo came in to sit beside them. he gave up fighting and let her hold his hand.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

while the gang was nervously conversing in the basement about how eric got them busted for smoking by confessing to red after vinnie got arrested, y/n interrupted.

she leaped down off of the washing machine and walked behind vinnie. “guys, can we talk about something more important than weed? i mean,” she grabbed vinnie’s face, pulling him into her chest as she leaned down, “we’re in love!”

vinnie suddenly rose from his chair, turning to face her. his tight plain shirt was hugging his figure perfectly. “alright, enough of your fantasy bullshit. this whole thing wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you. why don’t you get this through your simple little easy bake oven head? i don’t love you. i don’t even like you. i can barely stand to look at you. okay?”

the room went silent for a moment before y/n chirped up, “oh vinnie, you’re such a bad liar!” and with that, she wrapped her arms around the boys neck and leaned up into him, hugging him.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐞 ──

“so…vinnie…” the cheery girl placed both her hands on vinnie’s legs, right above his knees. he was seated on the washing machine, listening to the gang converse about how bored they were, when she approached.

she had on a denim dress with a slightly-sheer button up underneath that was light green with flowers all over it. her hair was pushed back with a bobby pin and she had a gold necklace on that matched the watch hacker wore—only her necklace was real gold and a gift from her father while his watch was something he stole off of a kid during third period last year.

the blue of her outfit was just a smidge darker than the jeans he wore. “would you like to be my date to mr. foreman’s barbecue?” her question was spoken with such confidence that anyone with eyes would wonder who she thought she was asking, because clearly it wasn’t vinnie, the boy who dodged her at every change he got.

“no.” her face dropped at his words and the brunette continued, “as a matter of fact, i don’t wanna go anywhere with you.”

“you know what— that’s okay!” vinnie felt the machine beneath him wobble slightly as y/n sat down beside him, closer than she needed to be. she was now sandwiched between him and the laundry bin that laurie had left down there. “we can stay in.”

her arm hung over his shoulders, leaning in even closer than she was before. “no, y/n! i’ve told you time and time again, you don’t have a chance.”

she could feel embarrassment slowly creeping up and shifted back away, her shoulder touching the laundry bin. “but for some reason, you keep thinking that i’m interested and that you have a chance!” he moved over to sit on the chair beside donna.

“wait, so you are interested in me and i have a chance?!”

of course her brain only made out the exact opposite of what vinnie was trying to say. donna let out a laugh, darting her eyes back down to the magazine she was reading from her seat on the sofa.

vinnie quickly stood back up at her words, “boy, you are just insufferable and stupid… donna, take your friend.” with that, he went up the stairs, leaving the two girls alone.

“donna..” y/n crossed her arms, taking in vinnie’s words. “why does he say words that hurt me so much? why would he want to hurt me like that?!”

“because you’re stalking him, y/n.”

“no, really, donna!”

“y/n. really.” she deadpanned, her bright eyes looking over at her best friend. her fingers closed her magazine and she shimmied closer to the girl. “you are to hacker what fez is to you.”

“okay, that’s ridiculous— fez and i would never happen!” her breath caught in her throat and she felt herself fall into the seat beside the redhead. “oh my god… vinnie and i will never happen.”

the predicament was completely different than anything she’d ever experienced before. usually whenever she had a problem, she could solve it with either money or her looks. she’d already tried money when she bought vinnie those boots, and clearly he was blind if he wasn’t dropping to his knees like everyone else to be with her, so looks wasn’t working either.

that left her with one other option. make him realize that he likes her. how? by making him jealous.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

later that day, y/n arrived at the foreman’s barbecue with someone else, just how she planned. he had an arm wrapped around her and wore the ugliest brown leather jacket that vinnie had ever seen.

the sight of chip leaning onto y/n was one vinnie didn’t expect to see from his seat at the front of the house.

“everybody, meet chip! he’s been chasing after me for years now so i figured, what the hell? chip, meet everybody!” her voice was too happy for vinnie’s liking and when chip left to grab her a drink, she immediately turned to see him, perched there watching with an unreadable expression.

“so you’re with this chip guy now?” he had his legs spread on both sides of the chair, his arms resting in his lap as he leaned backwards.

“yep.” her gaze was on chip, smiling dreamily before turning to vinnie.

“huh.” he muttered.

“why, do you care?” she shot back, pressing all of her weight into the pillar of the house.

“nah, why would i? i mean, if you wanna date this guy than that’s..cool.” he replied.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

y/n immediately approached donna who was putting up decorations for her dad, to inform her on what vinnie said.

while she didn’t see why her best friend was so excited about what seemed to be an honest and careless answer, she was somewhat grateful to have her there since everyone else had been at eric’s house all day. y/n made sure to compliment the decorations before heading back to the barbecue, only after she’d snatched a hot dog from the grill and complimented bob’s cooking.

after steering eric’s sister away from her chip, she continued back to her date. “you can have him when i’m done with him, like usual.” she’d said.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

something told vinnie to talk to this ‘chip’ guy, and after further evaluation, he was glad he did.

the guy was a jackass. even more so than her usual type, and that said a lot coming from hacker.

“i hate it when she talks, and she’s always talking.” was a statement that he could agree with and laugh about, but when the loser followed that statement up with “but it’s worth it if i get to nail her,” that was when he started seeing red.

“huh..” vinnie tightened his jaw along with the grip on his beer. “you might wanna rethink that, man. i mean…y/n’s pretty young and…only had like one boyfriend.”

“yeah, which isn’t surprising, i mean…she’s a bitch.” chip proceeded to shoot him with the most shit-eating grin that vinnie had ever seen. he just couldn’t stop himself from swinging at him.

so he did.

after letting out a dry chuckle that read ‘you’re gonna regret saying that’, vinnie threw a punch at him, hard, knocking chip to the floor instantly.

y/n came running out at the sound of shouts and gasps from the party goers who had witnessed it.

“vinnie, what happened?”

she couldn’t care less about her date bleeding on the floor, instead her focus was entirely on the tattooed boy who was adjusting his jacket and seemed to be just as confused as what had happened as she was.

“what? nothing! just…somebody and the—guy that…just said bitch and there’s nothing.” he struggled to explain himself while her eyes darted from him to the guy on the floor.

“oh my god! he called me a bitch and you hit him!” vinnie gulped, studying her frantic movements. “i’m right, aren’t i!?”

“no…”

“liar! i am the bitch and you LOVE me!” she exclaimed.

“uh…kitty’s calling me.” and with that, vinnie darted into the house, ignoring her and leaving her there to daydream about how ‘in love’ they were.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

just a few hours later, there she was, in vinnie’s jacket, sitting on the edge of the front of the car. she looked so innocent staring up at the stars in his clothes that were way too big for her.

they were on a date.

after going to kitty for advice and hearing how convinced she was that vinnie had feelings for y/n, he said fuck it and borderline demanded her to get in the car. “we are going on a fucking date.”

she was drinking his soda, an intimate gesture while leaning into him. everything was so perfect, from the scenery to the sound of guitar playing from the car radio. it was just what she wanted.

“dates almost over…what’d you think?”

“eh..i didn’t completely hate it.” he replied, looking back at her to see her gazing lovingly into his eyes.

then, they leaned in. a first kiss.

“huh.” kissing him wasn’t as she imagined it’d be. it wasn’t like when she kissed michael and that was all she was really used to. “i didn’t feel anything.”

“nothing?”

“no…i mean, it was good! but..” y/n sighed, “did you feel something?”

“uh….no.” he stopped and stared quizzically at the sky for a moment before reaffirming his answer.

“wow…than i guess you were right about us all along. just friends.” a part of her was disappointed.

“i mean..we have enough time if you want to take this to the backseat and—“ he raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“oh, take me home! you pig!”

“yes, dear.”

she wondered if he really did feel something.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐭 ──

vinnie was on top as usual, gripping the side of the couch while y/n was splayed out under him. her arms met his shoulders, humming softly while entangling her tongue with his. about five minutes into a make out session, they heard the familiar stomp of kelso’s feet down the basement stairs.

“a catholic school?!”

fuck.

the two immediately separated, y/n pulling her dress back down and adjusting her lipstick while vinnie ran to grab his pair of sunglasses off the table, crossing his legs to hide his surely visible erection.

“yeah, my dad took away my slingshot so i’m feeling it pretty bad too.” kelso reached the end of the stairs with donna and eric following him. while donna went to grab her laundry, kelso slid in beside y/n on the couch, sucking obnoxiously loud on a lollipop.

vinnie pretended to be invested in whatever shitty show was on tv, while michael started hitting on y/n, like always.

“i think we should hash this thing out, yeah?” he gestured between him and his ex with the lollipop he held.

“michael, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“come on babe, i can see it on your face. you’re dying. you miss me so much and i know we’ve been through a lot together…but you know i’m always here if you ever have some physical needs.” he suggested, putting an arm around y/n’s shoulders and breathing down onto her.

vinnie quickly jabbed him in the arm, making kelso lose his grip on the lollipop. “ow-hey! what was that for?!”

he frantically grabbed the red treat off the ground before looking back at the brunette and rubbing his shoulder in pain.

“candy’s not good for you.” he barked, clearly annoyed at the way he was talking to y/n, but with them being under wraps, only she could tell.

“well damn!” he grossly popped the treat into his mouth, leaning towards the opposite side of the couch. donna and eric winced at the sight, before exclaiming how kelso will ‘always be the king’.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

the last thing donna and eric expected to see when they entered the foreman’s basement was vinnie hunched over y/n, who was grasping on to her dress that had made its way down to her waist, trying to shield her bra cladded chest.

vinnie didn’t even care enough to move, y/n had to push him off of her. her face was so hot, she only assumed it looked animated. there were probably birds flying around hackers head, the way he didn’t give a damn. it was like someone unplugged him.

eric noticed first, his eyes wide as he shouted a fast “OH MY GOD!”, causing donna to turn. once the redhead’s eyes saw the two on the couch, they mirrored her boyfriends, widening so much that she looked like her eyes would pop out.

“what the hell?!”

“what? you never seen two people kiss before?” vinnie swallowed, his breath still heavy from the act they had been caught in. he’d been blue balled multiple times this week and it was driving him insane— not to mention the times they’d been interrupted during not so heated make outs.

“vinnie!” she scoffed, clearly embarrassed. her best friend threw a nearby pillow at her to help her cover up, since the only way to pull her dress back up, was to rise from her seat.

“what?!” he threw his hands back, nonchalantly. donna sent him a sharp glare, turning her back towards the two so y/n could get situated. eric was so traumatized that he’d already been looking the other way.

“listen you two fairies, sometimes people get urges to touch each other and it’s not a big deal. it means nothing, stop being such prudes.” vinnie responded while y/n fixed her dress, scolding the boy the second she was decent.

“are you done now?” she rolled her eyes, “you can turn around now!”

eric stayed near the door entrance while donna moved closer to her friend. “are you serious y/n?! hacker?!”

“my couch!” eric shrieked, causing his girlfriend to send him a disappointing look. the two locked eyes, “kelso!” they exclaimed in unison, even more outraged than before.

“did someone say kelso!?” fez shouted from the top of the basement stairs. the guilty pair stiffened, knowing that wherever fez is, kelso’s sure to follow. vinnie turned towards the tv, turning it on like nothing happened, while y/n sat there frozen.

“that’s right, ladies and gentlemen! the number one fastest hot dog eating champion of the entirety of the state of wisconsin, michael kelso, has arrived!” fez shouted in an announcer voice, kelso’s steps following.

once fez reached the end of the stairs, he waited for the taller boy to catch up.

“HELL YEAH! word must have gotten around, huh?!” he quickly jumped in between vinnie and y/n, squishing the three on the couch. “yep, that’s right.”

“kelso, what the hell are you talking about?” donna asked.

“i just challenged everyone at the hub to a hotdog race, winner gets 5 dollars, and won! there were only 2 people who agreed but still. everyone else was too wimp and i don’t blame them!” he put an arm on y/n’s shoulder. “does that turn you on?”

the group minus fez and kelso all shook their heads in disapproval. “it was beautiful!” fez sighed lyrically.

“yeah, that hotdog number four almost killed me. i was gasping for air…but i’m not dumb enough to choke. now THAT would be embarrassing.” he laughed, relieved.

the room went quiet before hacker stood up, “i’m going for a drive, y/n come with me.” he stated like it was an order, leaving the girl alone with kelso, fez, and the couple who knew her secret.

“like y/n would follow hacker.” michael scoffed.

“yes, why would she? she hates him!” fez chuckled from his spot in front of the tv.

seeing as they both knew y/n and vinnie wouldn’t have the balls to tell them, eric and donna filled them in on what had happened. they were both hysterical, kelso especially.

“HACKER?! oh be serious you guys, he’s poor and ugly and…” michael struggled to think of ways to insult his friend, “and my friend! he’d never do that…. plus y/n doesn’t date idiots, alright and he’s an idiot! i mean, remember the time he locked himself in the closet at donna’s house and slept there on the floor all night?!?” he shouted, standing up from the couch to face his ex.

“kelso..that was you.” donna corrected him.

“oh yeah…”

“and come on— hacker looks just like you.” eric chimed in.

“yeah! if you were covered in tattoos, were raised in a shack of a house riddled with paraphernalia and were more attractive!” donna remarked, kelso snapping his head back to look at her. “you’d be twins!” she smiled.

“oH, THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!” kelso cowardly stormed out of the basement, leaving fez there, kneeling on the ground and looking at the couch that y/n and vinnie had made out on. he looked up quizzically at the two left alone with him.

“so…what color was the bra?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ──

“you wanna know what i’m grateful for?” red huffed, leaning over his wife’s shoulders. “earplugs.”

he had been begging kitty to quiet down her singing, but with y/n there to help her whip the mashed potatoes, she couldn’t help but burst out in song. she’d missed laurie, not used to her not being home for thanksgiving and y/n was as close to laurie as she could get, yet the girl wasn’t her usual chipper and abrasive self. instead, she was sulking in complete silence, watching kitty cut vegetables as her wrist mindlessly wound the potatoes in the bowl she held.

she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this awful.

her dad was in trouble with the law which was causing a serious turmoil on her mother, leading her to take everything out on y/n, even more so than usual. while all she wanted was to be with vinnie, he hadn’t seen her in a week.

she tried cuddling with him on the couch like she used to, but he didn’t give in and acted like she wasn’t there. after that, she stumbled away crying and stayed at her house for the week— avoiding vinnie at all costs.

she didn’t understand what had happened. it wasn’t like she was asking him to fall madly and deeply in love with her or something, but he wouldn’t even show up to their makeout sessions anymore. ever since he swore that the thing they had was only casual fooling around and nothing more to eric and donna and that they’d stop, he’d been completely distant. sure, she swore it too, but she assumed he was just saying it to get them to back off.

she didn’t think he actually meant it!

a lot had changed since that first kiss they shared. when they started fooling around, it happened out of lust and came completely out of left field, and she still didn’t feel anything magical from it— but recently she’d started to feel things.

and it made her sick to think that she was the only one who felt it.

she wasn’t supposed to like guys like vinnie. she was supposed to marry someone with a bright future and wealthy parents who she could pass down a family name with— not someone who she’d be embarrassed to take to an event with her and have to cover his mouth to keep him from making crude comments.

so why was she so upset that he didn’t go check on her and why did he seemingly forget she existed? she even splurged on a new dress, hoping to get a reaction out of him, but nothing.

noticing how everyone except for hacker was outside playing basketball and conversing, she assumed that meant that the boy was by himself in the basement since he’s rarely in his room. after she finished whipping the mashed potatoes, she spoke for the first time in what felt like ages.

“is there anything else i can help you with, mrs. foreman?”

kitty looked back at her, seeing her sunken gaze and frowned so fast that y/n didn’t see it. “actually, red left a case of booze in the freezer in the basement so it would be nice and cold for him at supper, could you be a dear and fetch it for him?”

the basement.

nodding, she turned and made her way to the basement, anxious at the thought of being alone with vinnie.

when she reached the basement, she found vinnie seated in his usual chair, watching a tv that was seemingly off. she furrowed her brow, bending over at the freezer directly next to him.

“hey.”

he looked over to her, noting her proximity and how good the new dress fit her. “hey.”

“whatcha doin?” she put the beer on the ground, lifting her body up onto the washing machine and sitting down.

“television.” he said.

“really? cause’ it uh…kinda looks like you forgot to turn it on.” she joked.

“man, nothing gets past you, huh?”

sighing, y/n swallowed her pride and joined him on the couch. his brown eyes were glued to her whenever she wasn’t looking.

“are you okay?”

“shouldn’t i be asking you that?” he glared, shaking his head before leaning back into the couch. her hand fell onto his knee, comfortingly.

“yes, yeah..you should, but since you’re too much of a dumbass, i’m making the first move.”

“so, wouldn’t that make you the dumbass here?” he argued.

“stop changing the subject and just tell me why you’re mad at me!”

“i’m not mad at you.” he pulled back from her touch and stood up, shaking his head as if he was annoyed and this was the dumbest conversation on earth.

“well then, why haven’t we been…us recently?”

“alright now, don’t be getting so ahead of yourself, y/n. what us?” he questioned, towering over the girl who was now standing in front of him. “as far as i’m aware, we’ve been the most ‘us’ that we could have possibly been, this week!”

“vinnie, we didn’t see each other at all.”

“and why would we? its like you’ve always said, you’re you and i’m me. why keep wasting time when we already know how it ends?”

she suddenly regretted ever saying such a thing, but didn’t know how to respond with out sounding too desperate. “i thought we were just saying that.”

“well, i wasn’t.”

vinnie’s words came out so definitive and heart wretchedly empty that it almost knocked the wind out of her chest. holding his eye contact felt more difficult than it had ever been. a moment of silence passed, the girls wide-eyed gaze was haunting him already before it had even ceased to exist. pulling himself from her stare, he treaded towards his bedroom, seemingly to grab his keys, and muttered a last word before exiting through the basement door.

“you heard eric didn’t you? we’re breaking up the band.”

biting on her lower lip and clenching her fists, the reminder of kitty upstairs and the case of beer on the ground hit her, along with everything else that had happened that past day. all of it went away the minute she started speaking to hacker, a just to wash over her like a tide again the second he left. she only let a few tears fall before returning upstairs.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“FINALLY!” kelso called out, shooting past y/n as she made her way into the foreman house. kitty had just announced that the turkey was done and that it was time to set the table.

“coming!” eric ushered himself into the kitchen to help his mother prepare the table. y/n and donna stayed back in the living room, donna nodding a hello to hacker who was on the staircase drinking a beer.

“you excited for turkey, hacker?” donna asked playfully, unaware as to how uncomfortable it made y/n. all she knew was that the girl was sad about her parents, she had no idea that the person she sparked a conversation with was also a huge part of her distress.

“oh yeah,” he stood and slowly stepped down as he spoke, “thanksgiving, where we all get together and celebrate the subjugation of an indigenous people with yams and underdog floats. who’d wanna miss that?”

y/n stood back awkwardly as donna laughed and the two followed hacker into the kitchen.

the table was set beautifully, split into two sections, one for the adults and another for the gang. eric had been borderline hyperventilating over the math test that he had failed and was doing everything he could to suck up to his parents, in the event that they found out. laurie had surprised everyone by coming home, so once y/n got red his beer, she was no longer needed in the kitchen. she had almost forgotten until she saw the blonde at their table.

fez and kelso couldn’t wait for food any longer and had already chosen seats beside each other, taking up one side of the table, and donna had gravitated towards the side nearest to fez, leaving a space presumably for her boyfriend. that meant there were only two spots left, both between hacker and laurie.

oh, just shoot me at this point.

 opting for the lesser evil, she sat in the chair directly next to vinnie, the two taking up their entire side. she could practically feel the tension the minute she sat down. there was little to no space between the two of them and it felt like a giant smoggy hurricane was working its way through her body, making it difficult for her to focus and swallow. while she’d droned out laurie’s voice, the sound of her name falling from eric’s lips snapped her back into reality.

“so..y/n. i’m sure you’re really glad your here and not back at home with your parents, huh?” he let out a chuckle, smacking his knee with his hand.

“now that would be awkward huh!”

the group fell silent, even fez and kelso staring at the completely freaked out boy who had very clearly just crossed a line.

“eric!” donna shouted in a whisper, her tone showed distain for his flagrant words but he was too brain fogged to catch on.

“i mean, you must feel like your life is just falling apart! are you doing okay? like really?” he leaned across the counter as far as possible, speaking the last part in a similar hushed expression to his girlfriends.

y/n didn’t expect vinnie to jump in.

“alright, will you lay off? bother her some other time.” his voice boomed in y/n’s ears, ricocheting off of the wires of tension that had bordered the two of them. the conversation quickly faded once the turkey was brought out, but she couldn’t help but hyper focus on the boy beside her, from the corner of her eye.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“man…if i were to list the three most important things in my life, turkey would have to be number one!” kelso had already gotten seconds and was looking to fill his plate again for the third time. he’d been going on about how good the turkey was, and while everyone assumed it was just to be polite to kitty, he was still going on as if this was the best day of his life. “well…” he thought, “sex and slingshots would be above it but, turkey would be up there!” he grinned, nodding and taking his last bite from his piece.

“ah, yes. these mashed potatoes are all i can find thankfulness for. they are like creamy clouds full of deliciousness.” fez agreed, holding a single bowl of the mashed potatoes that y/n had helped make.

“hey, hacker. are you gonna eat that?” michael pointed to the turkey slice that vinnie had been cutting from, he chewed slowly before answering.

“yes.”

“well..could i have maybe the side—“ michael leaned over, trying to bite a piece off of vinnie’s food but vinnie gave his shoulder a haymaker before he could reach it.

“OW!” he clutched his shoulder dramatically. “well that’s not very neighborly!”

continuing to slice into the meat, vinnie moved on with his meal like nothing had happened. the sound brought kitty’s attention to the group and the look on y/n’s face was cause of concern.

“y/n, are you okay dear?” the younger girl looked up quickly, “you’ve barely touched your food.”

she made eye contact with vinnie for a good second, forgetting to ignore the feeling of when his eyes locked on to her.

“yeah, no i’m fine! i’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“well, why don’t you go lie down in the basement? the dogs alone down there and i’m sure he’d appreciate the company on such a holiday!” she insisted, “plus, you look like you wish that fork you’re holding was a gun!” she added nervously before letting out a hysterical chuckle, taking a long sip of her drink.

“no th-“

“yeah, that’s a good idea. i’m stuffed and starting to miss that little dog. let’s go, y/n.” vinnie stood up, looking down at her and lending out a hand. y/n wasn’t sure if she was daydreaming or if it was a thanksgiving miracle but he was suddenly acting as if nothing had happened.

“what are you talking about-“

“come on,” he reached under her armpits, pulling her up from her chair and kicking back her seat, “schatzi’s probably dying down there. at this hour they’ll be playing reruns of laverne and shirley.” he pulled her arm with him down to the basement, firmly yet gently.

“oh no, i forgot! please be sure to tape it for me!” fez called out frantically.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

after briefly greeting schatzi, y/n sat down on the couch, watching vinnie still in thought.

“well? what-“

“this is stupid.” he blurted out, standing confidently without showing any signs of hesitation or sitting down.

“what? what’s stupid?”

“this. what we are doing— us right now, this is so stupid.”

“okay, i’m lost.” she replied, shaking her head.

“we’re being stupid! whatever we are doing right now, it’s stupid, okay?! alright?!” he confessed, using his hands while he spoke, his brown eyes holding tightly onto her gaze. “i feel stupid! this days been stupid! thanksgiving being a national holiday is stupid—eric failed his math test which makes him stupid!” he ranted, the words spilling out from him like he couldn’t hold them anymore.

“you’re clearly upset, which is stupid! and it’s making me concernedly upset, which is stupid!” he clenched his jaw and schatzi ran over to him at the command in tone of his voice, trying to figure out what vinnie was being so loud about.

“it’s stupid and i’m cutting it out!”

“you’re….cutting it out?” y/n finally spoke up, only to be cut off by his ramblings again, but considering she barely knew what to say, she wasn’t too upset about it.

“yes.” he nodded firmly, grimacing at his words.

“okay, vinnie, you do know that this is all because of you right? you’re the one who stopped what we had going on, not me.”

“yeah, yeah? well, i’m stupid! okay?!” he snapped, sighing and dropping down beside y/n on the couch. he melted at the feeling of her hand on his arm, comforting him while waiting for him to finish his tantrum.

“look…” he sighed, “i’m not saying that we should be in a relationship or anything, but i don’t think we should allow the guys in our group to dictate what we do with ourselves. and i don’t think you think we should either, considering you’ve been moping around all day like schatzi.”

his thumb rubbed the back of her other hand, without realizing. “so..what do we do?”

“how about we just do whatever we want to?” he offered, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “i think you’re really attractive and i have a lot of fun doing sinful and devious acts with you…” she smirked at his words, “and life is too short to be this stupid, so how about we forget about everyone else, say fuck kelso, and just do what we want? no expectations.”

the sincerity and gentleness in his voice was so incredibly attractive and it felt impossible to keep her composure. placing both hands in his, y/n leaned in and kissed vinnie’s cheek. his blush was evident, even if he tried to play it cool.

“so, you think i’m attractive?”

“god, you’re annoying.” he rolled his eyes, groaning before gripping the back of her neck in his hands and kissing her the way that he’d been dying to.

it always was the best way to shut her up.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

i have to make a new taglist, so reply if you’d like to be added!

[the-one-and-only-taffie]

AHHHHHHHHHHH

Yeah, the two endlessly go back and forth about the advice White tries to give and Sentinel ignoring them because he's the King of Iacon. Why of all bots should he listen to someone who isn't even a bot? She ruled an empire once but gave it up for (what he believes to be) dumb reasons. Why bother?

Of course, White Diamond would feel out of place in Cybertron. The cultural and social practices are different. The language is completely foreign to her. She already struggles enough to relate to her own people, so trying to connect to sentient transforming car robots is practically impossible. Although the bots are kind and patient with White, she knows its only out of respect for their beloved leader. She feels very out of place and isolated even when she's by Sentinel's side, and he tries to make her feel more comfortable for the sake of her literally not being blue all the time. She has tried striking conversation with Airachnid, but she either doesn't acknowledge her or outright says she's under no obligation to speak with her. Airachnid straight up doesn't like White. This'll be elaborated upon in a future post.

For the rules thing, I imagine one of them is not interacting with the miners unless it's for an event or something. White suggests holding a party just for them to show their appreciation for their hard work, and Sentinel laughs. He doesn't see the point and jokingly remarks they'd drag dirt and grime everywhere and ruin all the beautifully polished banquet halls. White simply says they could wash the miners, and Sentinel says that wasn't his point. White argued that in the past, she did not see the point in celebrating the accomplishments of or showing appreciation towards the laboring gems because that was their job. What they were expected to do. They were not owed anything for doing the purpose they were literally made to perform. But she's learned that anyone, regardless of their social standing, deserves to be given their dues. If not, they'll feel unappreciated and then forget to appreciate themselves. White giving voice to the little gem strikes again! Sentinel looks at her like she said a Unicronic incantation and tells her that isn't happening. He doesn't like the idea that White would become more popular among the miners if she were to actively spend time with them. He also doesn't want her to witness or hear about how they're treated by the Transformers and upperclasses.

But yeah. Everything White suggests would go in one audial and out the other when it comes to Sentinel. He believes he knows what's best for Iacon compared to a literal alien, so he never takes her seriously and makes that very clear. White despises being ignored like this. Then she's has an epiphany. Was this was how she treated Pink? Of course, it was significantly more cruel and abusive, but progress is progress.

White making little crystal friends. Please. My heart. I remember how Steven brought a pebble to life with his own diamond essence/sweat in the episode Familiar. I wonder if that could work for White, maybe she accidentally created them out of loneliness. I'll have to do more research regarding that. Sentinel would hate them and view them as little pests. He can't release them either. That'd cause a stir. So he let's her keep them until she has to leave for one reason or another. He insists on her taking them all with her. White obliges, but she does miss a few which Sentinel tasks Airachnid to, uh, deal with them. Luckily, they're a lot more slippery than she thought, and White briefly returns to pick them up. Sentinel and his right servo femme pretend they didn't just try to shatter them 10 seconds ago.

Is a headcanon of a headcanon any less canon? Lmao good ending Prime Diamond is cursed to me cause niether of the goobers deserve it, in my humble opinion. But it is cute. Sentinel being the one to put his pride aside for the sake of maintaining the peace instead of White having to do that 24/7 (at least the best she can). He listens to her advice cause he's that curious to see how it'd pan out, mostly to prove her wrong if it doesn't. Then he realizes wait... listening to gf is??? Good??? Lo and behold, he begins to genuinely respect her. Imagining White and Sentinel growing to genuinely love each other and treat each other better despite their flaws... only to have it literally torn away from them. MUAH HA HA HA HA. Hilarious.

Anyway, White fighting the Quintessons hmmmm.... Idk how White would do in a fight cause she isn't a warrior. That's more Yellow Diamond's forte. Her weapon of choice is her words, but chances are the Quintessons aren't the most open to diplomacy unless its tons of energon neatly wrapped with a bow. I don't even know how her diamond powers could affect beings that aren't gems. It would be cool seeing her beat their asses though, and Sentinel definitely would not complain.

And Sentinel and White calling each other "My Prime" and "My Diamond" respectively... I'm using that. Thanks for the idea!

Back with more White Diamond x Sentinel Prime crackship nonsense baby!!!

Ever since I first thought about these goobers, I haven't known a single day of peace (mostly cause the ideas are just racking around in my brain)

So here's a list of headcanons I came up with for Prime Diamond! If you have any questions regarding this ship, my ask box is open. Double if you have any thoughts or anything to add, go on ahead! I hope y'all enjoy!

I may make a part 2 when I come up with more lol

For this relationship to even be possible (as possible as a crackship between two characters from completely different franchises can be), it will have to take place Post-Steven Universe Finale/Future when White Diamond is in her therapy, self-help guru era. And when Sentinel Prime is... alive.

Also, I have been trying to do research regarding this but since the results are so inconsistent, I'm gonna assume White Diamond is around 80 to 90 ft tall and Sentinel is around 60 (based on how he's double Orion Pax's height and apparently TF One Orion is around 33 ft tall). If you know their actual canonical heights or anything close to that, please lemme know!

As mentioned in a reblog, White Diamond would take an interest in Sentinel Prime as a sort of little DIY project. Though he tries to hide it, White with her supernatural intuitiveness can tell there's more to him than meets the eye (he's an asshole). Having been inspired by Steven to see the worth and beauty in imperfections, she wants to give someone like Sentinel a chance like Steven did for her. Though she is making genuine strides to improve upon her previous controlling and obsessive behavior regarding perfection, this aspect of her will resurface in her attempts "fix" Sentinel while in a relationship with him. She adores and finds much interest in his "positive imperfections," but helping him improve on his more negative ones wouldn't hurt, right?

Other reasons she developed an attraction to him is for the same reason all the Sentinel fangirls did: he's just so... pathetic. When he tries to impress her with stories of battles he's never fought in and gives her a tour of his treasure room full of artifacts he didn't discover, she can tell he's trying way too hard to impress her. She finds this cute and charming rather than douchey and desperate.

Sentinel Prime pursued her because, as stated in a previous reblog, "his diva ass was always going to try and seek out a gem fit for a king." He laid his eyes on an 80-90 ft giant alien rock woman and thought,"I need her." As any sane person would. She was supposed to be nothing more than another symbol of wealth for him to show off to the other elites and officials of Iacon City to further cement the royal image he works so hard to maintain. He definitely underestimated how overwhelming White Diamond can be, and I am not just referring to her height.

Sentinel would rather have his spark be extinguished than admit to this, but his stabilizing servos get wobbly at the idea of his alien girlfriend being so much taller than he is. His pride would never admit to this, nor would it accept someone taller than him accompanying him. He believes that as a "Prime," he is supposed to be much taller, bigger, and more imposing than those around them.

Whenever they make a public appearance, Sentinel insists that White shrink herself to a height more tolerable for his fragile ego. He bullshits an excuse about their buildings not being designed for a being as tall as she is. White obliges, but given how Iacon was built when the previous actual Primes were all gigantic and alive, she quickly figures his lie and confronts him about it. He'd just lie again and say he didn't want the other Cybertronians to be intimidated... by her beauty. Clearly, it's not because of some Napolean complex or something. Still, White in her patience era takes the compliment for what it is.

The "guy who doesn't like speeches" vs. "professional yapper" isn't a joke. Sentinel can't stand how much White Diamond loves to yap. She's the kind of person to have thoughts and opinions about anything and everything. Given that she doesn't breathe, she doesn't even need to catch her breath in the middle of speaking, so she can go on and on and on, much to Sentinel's annoyance.

He tries to get her to quiet down at times, but as White tends to do, she either doesn't hear him or straight up ignores him. Her monologuing, along with her height and just how shiny she is, is very overwhelming for Sentinel at times. The only good thing he finds about this aspect of his sweetspark is when she dotes on him and showers him with compliments and attention. As if a attention hungry fame whore needed any more of it.

Sentinel even allows White to indulge in her psychoanalysis, playing up the whole "tragic hero whose brothers and sisters perished in battle and now has to face the pain and weight of protecting his people alone" that she eats up. White does sometimes hit dangerously close to home, so Sentinel shuts her down before she could dig straight to bedrock and uncover the more unfavorable parts of himself he wants to stay hidden.

Speaking of staying hidden, the way White carries herself in public makes Sentinel was to keep her locked away in a jewelry box. White is excellent when it comes to using her words to inflict psychic damage or to build someone up. When it comes to social situations where charisma, relatability, and poise are needed, this is when White is at her most alien. She is not the most socially adjusted given that prior to the finale, she spent thousands of years hidden away in a world of her own delusions. She doesn't have much of a filter, something she has been working on to avoid upsetting offending others.

She has the habit of pointing out any interesting thing that catches her eye, especially about people, whether or not it's positive or negative. This has led to her unsettling the bots at best or offending them at worst. Sentinel then has to come in and use his charisma to difuse the situation and paint her behavior in a more positive light. Only for White to turn around and ask everyone if they ever noticed how Sentinel's wings move in accordance to his mood and how adorable it is. Everyone laughs. Sentinel is thoroughly pissed.

Sentinel definitely has more relationship experience than White Diamond. All of her knowledge comes from what she's heard from the gems that come to her for her advice or from that human show the little green Crystal Gem recommended (she can't remember her name). In her attempts to emulate the behavior of what she's heard of and observed, she ends up coming off as cringe at best or detached from reality. At certain points of the relationship, she even imposes certain "deadlines" on courtship behaviors she expects from Sentinel. All his previous relationships were private, casual flings. He only made this one public because bagging a bad bitch like White Diamond is an accomplishment he felt he had to show off.

This may come to bite him in the aft when her radiance catches the attention of other bots. On these occasions, he acts possessive and showers her with attention, gifts, and affection. He tells himself and Airachnid it's because he doesn't want her to outshine him in the eyes of the public. In reality, he gets jealous and doesn't want to lose her interest and, most importantly, her attention. As overwhelming and embarrassing as she can get, a twisted part of him really craves her attention.

In private, Sentinel can flip flop greatly in how he treats White. On some days he leans on her for support and wants her to pet his wings while he vents about all the dumb, annoying bots he has to fraternize with and all the boring meetings he has to attend. White occasionally interrupts him with advice or her own views on the situation, which frustrates Sentinel. On other days, he's completely detached, not even bothering to give her the time of day. He is at his most consistently sweet and romantic when they're both in the public eye, performing grand gestures of love. This intensifies when they're on camera.

They present themselves as THE Iacon couple, but Sentinel and White argue a lot about pretty much anything. More often than not, White is trying to advise him on how to improve himself and his city, and Sentinel kindly tells her to shut up and mind her own business.

They are both very prideful people who can't accept when they are wrong. White is more willing than Sentinel to admit to it and compromise. If she believes she is 100% in the right, she won't go down without a verbal fight. She has yet to figure out how to properly counter Sentinel's "NUH UH!" though. She believes this is normal and healthy as she hears time and time again how arguments are a sign of a functional relationship. White knows how in the past she never allowed anyone to express their grievances or criticize her. If they did, she'd twist their words to further force her own viewpoint or take control over their mind and body. Seeing Sentinel passionately argue back while White practices her listening skills and only sometimes speaks over him gives her hope that she isn't regressing back to her previous toxicity. No one has told her that disagreements are healthy and normal, but frequent fights and arguments are not. And the kind of hellish circles these two go in just ain't it

[yourqueenb]

This is so sad and embarrassing 😐 Like ????? He shouldn’t even be here!!

[misspickman]

Like in my head cassie is a butch lesbian but i know this is never going to be real in dc so im not like Angry they don't make her more masc i just wish she looked more serious instead of like hey im a teen girl who Just became a superhero, which Worked before bc it was true but now shes been wonder girl for longer than yara and yet yara gets a cool fit and cassie gets. This

[fingertipsmp3]

I do have to wonder how much of my ‘blood pressure being high’ was just due to 1) anxiety and 2) not being able to put the fact that this doctor basically killed my friend’s sister-in-law out of my mind

[katszumi]

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

pt 2 of the study sesh

[agatharkn3ss]

Rio's flower theory (contains spoilers!)

Some people have noticed how Rio's flower kept making appearance in the last episode, so naturally I re-watched it for the 100th time, and made note of every moment we see the flower because I have a theory...

First appearance - Rio presents it to Agatha when she crawls out of the ground

Agatha pushed it out of her hand, but it's unclear what happens to it - I thought maybe it looked like she put it in her coat pocket, but actually I think she just threw it to the ground, she would be too angry to keep it. And so we see the flower back in Rio's hands when she merrily hops along the Road. She doesn't stop playing with it even when they stop to look at the trial house.

The flower (and also her knife) is also present in the trial. As we saw with Agatha's locket, amulets and Joe's spell book, the trial seems to let the witches keep things that are important to them.

When they exit the trial, frantically trying to save Teen, Rio is back playing with the flower again, silently observing Agatha.

This continues until the campfire. Seriously, why is this girl stimming so much?

The interesting bit is when Agatha returns from Teen. Her hands are in her pocket, so we can't see whether she's holding something in her hands or if she's taking something from her pocket. But in the next frame, as she sits down to join the coven, she has that flower in her left hand! I think Rio must have put it on the seat, waiting for her. There are some interesting looks!

Finally, when Rio gets up to go after Agatha, the camera pans out and we see the flower has actually been left back on the log, where Agatha sat... What is the meaning of it?....

So in summary, the flower has some deeper meaning to Rio and she seems to really treasure it, maybe even use it as a stimming device, maybe trying to control her emotions?

Enter the Marvel promo for Death tarot card!

In one hand, we see Death holds her dagger (looking familiar?), in the other hand she holds an object that people believe to be Death's black heart. But it also reminds me the shape of a flower. So what if Rio's flower IS her heart? That she keeps offering to Agatha?

But I wonder if Agatha realises the meaning of the flower yet. In ep.1 she looked a little surprised when Rio says she does have a heart, that it's black and beats for her. It would be hard to believe that if these two were an item for centuries, that they wouldn't end up knowing everything about each other. So Agatha's "you don't have a heart" could just be a snarky, hurtful comment to reflect Rio's possible betrayal (the "job" she had to do) or a more literal fact that she doesn't believe Rio can be truly human in any physical way (no heart, no scars), because she's Lady Death. Or both. So maybe Rio hid that part from her? They certainly seem like they didn't even talk and reconcile after the dramatic events because Agatha seems surprised at Rio's hurt and regret when she tells her "scar story".

Anyway, I digress... In short, I think flower is (or at least symbolises) Rio's heart.

Bonus content - we actually get a glimpse of that flower in ep.1 as it makes its appearance even in Agatha's fake reality. Even though the camera angles make it impossible to see it most of the time, there are scenes when Rio moves her head just enough that we can see a bit of her her clip - which looks eerily like the flower!

While there was no actual flower in their ep.1 fight scene, Agatha is wearing a flowery robe and the wallpaper is all flowers. So I think there is a deeper symbolism there that the show is trying to subtly incorporate - does it all link to the Green Witch powers? Or the language of flowers?

Even Teen places a flower on Sharon's grave, where would he even get it from in that dark place? And finally, Jen uses blue flowers when they summon the green witch (Lilia offers a rock, Agatha adds a leaf and it's not clear what Alice adds - some dust or fruit?)

So... after all that, I don't actually know anything about plants or gardening. So does anyone know what type Rio's flower even is? I mean, there literally is a flower called Rio, could that be a hint or is it too simple?

EDIT: My bad, Rio is a proprietary company name who sells those flowers. But what about this flower called Surprise Lily? (also called Resurrection Lily!) Doesn't look quite like Rio's but I like the name as it would be quite funny if it was true...

[dissapointu]

hi!! i love your writing! i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to their partner looking really good??

OMG YES, LET’S GO. You’re serving looks, and these characters are LOSING it.

Jinx

Jinx is walking into the room, probably rambling about some crazy plan she has to blow something up, but then she sees you. Full stop. Like, rewind sound effects stop. Her jaw drops, her eyes go wide, and she’s just standing there with a completely dumbfounded look on her face.

“WHO LET YOU LOOK LIKE THAT?!” she yells, pointing at you like it’s your fault. And then, without waiting for an answer, she’s giggling and spinning around you like a little tornado, tugging at your outfit and gushing about how good you look. But it’s Jinx, so she’ll probably throw in something like:

“I could never wear that—I’d blow it up in five minutes. BUT YOU?! You’re, like, my shiny bombshell baby now!”

Vi

Okay, so Vi acts all tough and cool, right? But when she sees you? Girl is GONE. She leans back in her chair, smirks, and tries to play it cool.

“Damn, babe, where’s the fire? Oh wait—it’s YOU.”

She totally thinks she’s being smooth, but her ears are turning red, and she cannot stop staring. She’ll make some excuse to touch you, too, like fixing a stray hair or adjusting your jacket, just so she can get a closer look.

“You’re killin’ me here,” she mutters under her breath, and yeah, she’s absolutely whipped.

Sevika

You walk into the bar looking too good, and Sevika’s mid-drink when she sees you. She chokes. Like, literally sputters into her glass because she was NOT READY. She tries to recover, clears her throat, and narrows her eyes at you like you did this on purpose.

“Alright, who are you trying to impress?” she teases, but her voice is all low and growly, and she’s totally jealous of anyone else who gets to see you looking like this.

If you’re lucky, she’ll slide an arm around your waist and pull you close, her mechanical arm whirring a little as she leans in to murmur, “You keep lookin’ like that, I’m gonna have to start a fight just to keep people’s eyes off you.”

Silco

Silco’s usually composed, right? All cold, calculating power. But when he sees you, he goes silent. Like, dead silent. His heterochromatic eyes narrow just slightly, and you can tell he’s looking you over, taking in everything.

“Impressive,” he finally says, his voice smooth but with just enough edge to send a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t say more because he knows you know exactly what he’s thinking, but the way his hand lingers on your arm when he passes you? Yeah, you’ve officially ruined his ability to focus for the rest of the day.

Vander

Vander is polishing a glass behind the bar when you walk in, and the man literally freezes. The glass slips from his hand, clattering onto the counter, and for a moment, he’s just staring at you with this big, goofy grin on his face.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice all warm and soft, like he can’t believe his luck. He’s not one to gush, but you’ll catch him sneaking glances at you all night, shaking his head like, How did I get so lucky?

And when you catch him staring, he’ll just laugh and say, “Can you blame me?”

Ekko

Ekko’s mid-sentence when you walk in, and he just stops talking. Like, whatever he was saying? Gone. Deleted. Replaced by you.

“Uh…damn.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what to do with himself, because holy crap, you’re stunning. “Okay, but why are you trying to flex on me like this?”

He’ll pretend to pout for like two seconds before breaking into this huge grin and pulling you into a quick spin. “You look incredible. Seriously. You’re making it really hard for me to focus.”

Jayce

Jayce is a talker, so the moment he sees you, he’s throwing out compliments like confetti.

“Wow. Just…wow. Is this legal? You’re stunning. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. Should I keep going? Because I could keep going.”

He’s like a golden retriever, so excited and genuinely in awe, and he’ll definitely try to take like 50 pictures of you, “for science,” but really just because he can’t get over how good you look.

Viktor

Oh, Viktor is a mess. Like, full-on short-circuiting. He notices you immediately, but he’s so shy about it, he pretends to be focused on his work, even though the pen in his hand is hovering three inches above the page.

“You, uh…you look very nice,” he finally mumbles, his face going completely red. But when you catch him staring (because he’s DEFINITELY staring), he’ll push up his glasses and awkwardly add, “I mean, you always do, but tonight, especially…uh…”

Just kiss him already. The poor man can’t handle it.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s the type to notice right away but say nothing—at first. She’ll just smile, that soft little oh, you’ve outdone yourself this time smile, and let you catch her admiring you.

“You look incredible,” she says, her voice calm but with just enough warmth to make your cheeks burn. She’ll offer you her arm, all proper and elegant, and lead you into whatever event you’re attending, acting like it’s your moment to shine.

But don’t let her fool you. Inside, she’s absolutely glowing.

Mel Medarda

Mel is a queen, and she acts like one. So when she sees you, she doesn’t react immediately. No, she takes her time looking you over, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“You’re stunning,” she purrs, her voice dripping with admiration. “But then, I’d expect nothing less from you.”

She’s totally the type to dress even better next time just so you two can be the most powerful, glamorous couple in the room.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa doesn’t do subtle. The moment she sees you, she lets out this low, appreciative hum, her eyes gleaming with approval.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” she says, stepping closer, her presence almost overwhelming. “It’s…intoxicating.”

She’ll rest a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but affectionate, and you can feel the pride radiating off her. She knows everyone else is looking at you, and she loves it.

Heimerdinger

“Oh, my stars! My dear, you look absolutely radiant!”

Heimerdinger’s ears perk up, and his little mustache twitches with excitement. He’ll walk around you in circles, marveling at your outfit and making a bunch of overly enthusiastic comments about the “design work” and “craftsmanship,” even if it’s just a plain dress.

“You must let me take a closer look at this fabric—it’s magnificent!”

It’s adorable, really.

Salo

Salo’s not one to gush, but he’ll give you this small, approving nod when he sees you.

“You clean up well,” he says, his tone casual but with just enough edge to let you know he’s impressed.

If you’re lucky, you might catch him stealing a glance at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

Scar

Scar sees you and immediately whistles low under his breath.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, his grin all crooked and playful. “What’s the occasion, doll?”

He’ll definitely tease you, but you can tell he’s really into it by the way he keeps sneaking closer, like he just can’t help himself.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is blunt, so when she sees you, she just blurts it out:

“Damn, you look good.”

She doesn’t sugarcoat it, doesn’t make it a big thing. But the way her gaze lingers a little too long? Yeah, she’s head over heels.

Lest

Lest is normally composed, but the moment she sees you, she falters.

“You look…” she pauses, searching for the right word, and then just gives up with a little smile. “Amazing.”

It’s simple, but the way she looks at you? Like you’ve hung the moon? That says it all.

[a-kaash-me-outside]

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys. 

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

[paxtito]

pretty girl

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 3685

warnings: smut 18+. just lesbian sex innit (w receiving)— (all characters are 18+)

summary: wednesday put together a little surprise date night, but, enid being enid, couldn’t keep it a secret

a/n: based on this request: ‘I love your writing and was wondering if you could make another smut fic with Wednesday? Maybe something sorta soft, honestly anything would do. Thanks!’ hope this is what you were looking for and thank you!! spent the day resting which gave me plenty of time to do this because my lil’ anger issues of a dog bit my cheek after wanting my birthday cake 😒

MASTERLIST

The morning air is crisp as you walk across campus with Enid, her usual vibrant energy making up for your grogginess. You clutch your coffee tightly, half-listening as she chatters about the latest gossip in the werewolf pack.

“And then Ajax tried to—are you even listening to me?” she asks, bumping her shoulder into yours playfully.

“Barely,” you admit with a small smile, taking another sip of your coffee. “It’s too early for full Enid mode.”

“Rude,” she pouts dramatically before grinning. “But fine, I’ll get to the point. I’m sleeping over at Yoko’s tonight!”

“Wait, what?” you ask, blinking at her. “Why?”

Enid’s steps falter, and she looks away for a moment, biting her lip. “Oh, uh, no reason!”

You narrow your eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Enid…”

“It’s nothing!” she insists, waving her hands defensively. “Totally normal, just, uh, bestie stuff. You know, girl talk, vampire-werewolf bonding, that kind of thing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine! But you can’t tell Wednesday I told you, okay? She’d literally kill me. Like, for real this time.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Wednesday. “What does she have to do with this?”

Enid hesitates, looking torn. “Ugh, okay, fine,” she blurts out, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “She’s planning something for you tonight. Like, a date night or something. She told me to clear out so you two could have the dorm to yourselves.”

A warm, unexpected blush creeps up your neck. “Wait… Wednesday planned something? For me?”

Enid nods, her grin widening. “Yup! And let me tell you, she’s been stressing about it all week. She even glared at me less than usual yesterday, so you know it’s serious.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering at the thought of Wednesday going out of her way to plan something for you. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

“Right? But don’t tell her I told you, okay?” Enid warns, gripping your arm. “She swore me to secrecy and gave me this whole creepy ‘I’ll bury you alive’ speech. Classic Wednesday.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good. Because I value my life,” Enid says with mock seriousness before breaking into a smile. “But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

Your smile grows as you think about Wednesday, her deadpan expression softening ever so slightly when she’s around you, the way her hand lingers in yours when no one’s looking. “Yeah,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Enid. “I know.”

As the two of you reach the doors to your next class, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Whatever Wednesday has planned, you know it’ll be something only she could come up with—quiet, dark, and maybe a little macabre. And you can’t wait to see what she’s put together.

—

The afternoon sun filters through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow across your desk. Your fingers absentmindedly tap against the surface as you try to focus on the teacher's droning voice, but your thoughts keep drifting to Wednesday and the surprise she has planned for you.

Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, a small, giddy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You sneak a glance at Wednesday from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge her reaction.

To your surprise, she's already staring at you, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. Your gaze meets hers, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up under her intense scrutiny.

"You," she says flatly, her voice cutting through the monotony of the lecture. "Are you feeling alright? You seem... distracted."

You swallow hard, your mind racing for an excuse. "I'm fine," you manage, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. "Just thinking about the assignment."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze bores into you, as if she's trying to read your thoughts.

You squirm in your seat, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. You can practically hear Enid's voice in your head, warning you not to blow her cover.

But it's too late. Wednesday's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she schools her features back into a neutral expression.

"Ah," she says slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

You bite your lip, wondering if you should press further. But before you can open your mouth, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Wednesday stands abruptly, gathering her books without another word. She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping against yours in a way that feels almost like a dismissal.

You watch her go, your heart sinking. You've blown it, haven't you? Ruined whatever surprise she had planned.

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your chair in your haste. Your backpack slips off the desk, scattering your belongings across the floor.

"Wednesday, wait!" you call out, your voice echoing in the now-empty classroom.

You chase after her, weaving through the throng of students in the hallway. Your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up to her, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Wednesday whirls around, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. "What?" she snaps, her voice sharp.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I... I'm sorry," you manage, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I didn't mean to ruin your surprise. I just... I couldn't help myself."

For a moment, Wednesday just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a sigh.

"You're impossible," she mutters, but there's no real heat behind her words.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. "I... I know," you say softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "But I meant what I said. I'm sorry."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, and then she nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine," she says, her tone grudging. "But don't think this means you're off the hook. You owe me one."

You grin, relief washing over you. "I can live with that," you say, your voice light and teasing. "So... are you going to tell me what you have planned, or do I have to guess?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in her gaze. "Guess," she says simply, before turning and walking away, leaving you to follow in her wake.

—

You stand outside Wednesday's dorm room, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

Despite your earlier promise to keep quiet, you can't shake the nagging feeling that you've ruined whatever surprise she had planned. You glance down at your uniform, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, giving your skirt a quick smoothing. "She's not going to bite."

With a final nod of determination, you raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, making you wince.

Silence greets you for a moment, and you wonder if Wednesday is ignoring you. But then, the door swings open, revealing Wednesday standing in the doorway.

She's changed out of her school uniform, now wearing a simple black dress that falls to her knees. Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back in dark waves.

For a moment, you're struck dumb, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of her. She looks... pretty. Soft. Nothing like her usual sharp edges and icy demeanor.

Wednesday arches an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Cat got your tongue?" she asks, her voice dry.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. "No," you manage, clearing your throat. "I just... I didn't expect you to look so..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like a complete fool. Wednesday's smirk widens, and she steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Come in," she says simply, before closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You step into Wednesday's dorm room, your eyes widening as you take in the scene before you. The furniture has been pushed to the sides, creating a large open space in the center of the room. Soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow over everything, making the room feel intimate and cozy.

In the middle of it all stands Wednesday, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. She's holding out her hand to you, a silent invitation.

"What's all this?" you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "I'm going to teach you how to dance," she says simply, her tone matter-of-fact.

You blink, taken aback by her words. "Dance?" you repeat, feeling a little foolish. "Like... ballroom dancing?"

Wednesday nods, her dark eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Yes," she confirms, her voice dry. "Like my parents do. It's a family tradition."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of Wednesday's parents, of the life she leads outside of Nevermore. It's a side of her you've never seen before, and the idea of being a part of it, even in a small way, makes your stomach flutter.

"I... I'd like that," you manage, stepping forward to take her hand.

Wednesday's fingers are cool against yours, her grip firm and steady. She pulls you closer, her body mere inches from yours.

"Good," she says simply, before beginning to guide you through the steps.

You stumble a little at first. But Wednesday is patient, her instructions clear and concise. Slowly, you begin to find your rhythm, moving in tandem with her.

As you dance, you can't help but notice the way Wednesday's eyes never leave yours. There's an intensity there, a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her voice soft. "Just follow my lead."

You move gracefully in Wednesday's arms, your body reacting instinctively to her guidance. The fabric of your black trousers brushes against her dress as you spin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

Wednesday's gaze is intense, her dark eyes boring into yours with an unspoken question. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your heart races at her proximity.

"You're a natural," she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. "I knew you'd be good at this."

You duck your head, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's easy when I have a good partner," you manage, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "Is that so?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You nod, your gaze flickering down to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. "Definitely," you confirm, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday hums, her fingers tightening around yours. "Good," she says simply, before pulling you closer, your bodies now just inches apart.

You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils. Your breath hitches, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Now," Wednesday says, her voice low and husky. "Let's try something a little more... challenging."

She steps back, her hand leaving yours. You feel a momentary pang of loss, your fingers aching to touch her again.

But then Wednesday begins to move, her body swaying to a beat only she can hear. She extends her hand, a silent invitation for you to join her.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest. But then, with a deep breath, you step forward, ready to follow wherever she leads.

You take Wednesday's hand, her fingers cool and strong in your grasp. She pulls you close, your bodies pressing together as she guides you into a new dance.

This one is more sensual, the steps slower and more deliberate. Wednesday's gaze never leaves yours, her dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You move together, your bodies swaying in perfect sync. The world around you fades away, until there is nothing but the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the dance.

Wednesday's hand slides up your arm, her fingers trailing over your skin. You shiver at the contact, your nerve endings igniting with each touch.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Keep going."

You nod, your body responding to her commands without hesitation. You've never felt so in tune with another person, so utterly in sync.

As the dance comes to an end, Wednesday pulls you into a final, tight embrace. You can feel the heat of her body against yours, the softness of her breasts pressing into your chest.

For a moment, you're frozen, your heart pounding in your ears. You know you should pull away, put some distance between you. But you can't bring yourself to move, not when Wednesday feels so perfect in your arms.

Slowly, tentatively, you raise your hand, your fingers brushing against the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her tongue. "I..."

Your heart races as Wednesday's breathy voice caresses your name. In this moment, suspended in time, the world seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you, hearts beating as one.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lean in closer, your forehead resting against hers. Your hands slide up to cup her face, thumbs gently stroking her high cheekbones.

Wednesday's eyes flutter open, dark and filled with a vulnerability you've never seen before. Her hands come up to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"I..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. "I want..."

But she trails off, unable to finish the thought. Instead, she closes the remaining distance between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your body molding against hers like it was made to fit. Wednesday's lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a desperate hunger.

Your hands slide into her hair, tangling in the silky strands as you deepen the kiss. Wednesday makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, a sound of pure need.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her. The rest of the world fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Wednesday rests her forehead against yours, her hands still gripping your waist tightly.

"That was..." she starts, her voice rough with emotion.

"Perfect," you finish for her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Wednesday hums in agreement, nuzzling her nose against yours. "I've wanted to do that for a while now," she admits, her tone shy.

You chuckle softly, your fingers carding through her hair. "I'm glad you did," you murmur, bringing your lips to hers once more.

As you kiss, you know that this is just the beginning. The start of something new, something beautiful and terrifying and utterly intoxicating.

Wednesday's hands slide down to your hips, her fingers gripping your waistband tightly. With a sudden tug, she pulls you flush against her, your body pressing into hers.

You gasp at the contact, your hands flying up to grip her shoulders for balance. Wednesday takes advantage of your momentary distraction, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

With a soft push, she sends you tumbling onto the mattress, her body following yours. You land with a bounce, your breath knocked from your lungs as Wednesday settles on top of you, her weight pinning you in place.

"Wednesday," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you..."

But your question is cut off as Wednesday captures your lips in another searing kiss. Her tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch of you with a desperate hunger.

You moan into the kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, urging her closer. Wednesday grinds against you, the heat of her core seeping through the thin layers of fabric separating you.

Wednesday breaks the kiss, her dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath. She sits up, straddling your hips, her hands resting on your chest.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "But we don't have to..."

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands. "I want this," you assure her, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "I want you."

Wednesday nods, her gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, she leans down, pressing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Your hands slide down her back, settling on her hips. You guide her movements, encouraging her to grind against you. The friction is delicious, the heat building between your legs.

Wednesday gasps into your mouth, her hips moving faster, more urgently. You can feel her growing wetter, her arousal soaking through your clothes.

You break the kiss, panting heavily. "Let me," you plead, your voice rough with desire.

Wednesday nods, shifting off of you. You sit up, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of her dress. With a swift movement, you pull it over her head, tossing it aside.

She sits before you, clad only in a black lace bra and matching panties. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her pale skin flawless in the dim light.

You lean forward, pressing reverent kisses along her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts. Wednesday shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair.

You take a moment to drink in the sight of her, your gaze roaming over her body appreciatively. Wednesday flushes under your attention, her thighs pressing together shyly.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, your voice filled with awe.

Wednesday shakes her head, her dark hair falling in waves around her face. "I'm not..." she starts, but you silence her with a kiss.

Switching positions, you lay Wednesday down on the bed, your body covering hers. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, exploring every inch of her.

Wednesday moans softly into the kiss, her hips arching up to meet yours. Your hands slide down her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

You break the kiss, your lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. Wednesday gasps, her fingers digging into your back, urging you on.

Your hand slides down her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties. Wednesday's breath hitches, her thighs parting slightly in invitation.

You dip your fingers beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready for you. Wednesday whimpers, her hips bucking into your touch.

Your fingers glide through Wednesday's slick folds, finding her sensitive bud. She gasps, her hips jerking at the sudden contact.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her lips.

You circle her clit with teasing strokes, reveling in the way her body responds to your touch. Wednesday's thighs tremble, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her.

Slowly, you slide a finger inside her, groaning at the way her walls clench around you. Wednesday is so hot, so tight, so perfect.

You add a second finger, pumping them in and out of her slick heat. Wednesday's head thrashes on the pillow, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure.

Your thumb finds her clit again, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. Wednesday's hips buck wildly, her body chasing the release you're so eager to give her.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice barely audible. "I need..."

But she doesn't finish the thought, her body arching off the bed as you curl your fingers just right. You can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around your digits.

With a final twist of your wrist, Wednesday comes undone, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. You hold her through it, whispering words of praise and encouragement.

As she comes down from her high, you press soft kisses to her sweat-dampened skin, murmuring your love and devotion. Wednesday clings to you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

In this moment, the rest of the world fades away. There is only the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of love and passion.

—

You wake to the sound of the door opening, your eyes fluttering open to find Wednesday still asleep beside you. For a moment, you simply lie there, taking in the sight of her.

Her dark hair is fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. Your gaze travels down her body, tracing the curves and dips you explored so thoroughly the night before.

The door swings open fully, revealing a surprised Enid standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her - you and Wednesday, tangled together in the afterglow.

"Oh," she breathes, her cheeks flushing pink. "I... I didn't know you two were..."

You sit up quickly, pulling the covers up to your chin. Wednesday stirs, her eyes blinking open in confusion.

"Enid?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

Enid clears her throat, averting her gaze. "Sorry," she says, backing out of the room. "I'll just... I'll leave you two alone."

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you and Wednesday in a tense silence. You glance at her, unsure of what to say.

But Wednesday just sighs, turning to face you. "Well," she says, her tone dry. "That's one way to start the day."

[hees-mine]

DESTROYED - L. HEESEUNG

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: smut, oral female receiving, mentions of violence, not proofread

Genre: 18+, smut, minors do not interact!

WC: 2,332k

⟱⟱⟱

“If he puts his hands on you again, you have to let me know, you promise?” He holds his mother by the shoulders, looking at her with eyes full of seriousness, and she nods softly.

“Promise.” She stood on her toes, placing a kiss on his forehead.

With one last reassuring pat on her back, he heads towards the sofa, grabbing his backpack and putting it on his shoulders before leaving for the day.

As he exits, he locked the door, making his way down the steps and taking the sidewalk to school.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about his last encounter with you.

But it didn’t matter anyway. He had more important things to think about than some stupid girl.

That being said, it didn’t stop him from watching you all day.

Literally, all day.

Were you really that scared of him? Was he really like his father? Did he really even care?

He thought he didn’t, but wondering ate him up for the rest of the day, especially when you did your very best to avoid him by any means possible.

It bothered him because he never wanted to be a person to be avoided, but alas, he is, and what can he do about it?

He wishes he could go back to that day and just leave you alone.

Sure, it was quick, easy sex, but he gained absolutely nothing from it.

He knows he’s fucked up. He knows better than to get involved with others because he can’t regulate his emotions. He can only suppress them, and he hasn’t been able to do much of that lately.

So why he suddenly slipped up so easily was beyond him.

The thing he fears the most happening happened.

You were scared because of him.

He only knows two ways to deal with any situation, and that’s violence or anger.

It’s funny because only now did he realize how flawed that was. How could he deal with every situation with rage and expect people not to be scared of him?

But his past molded who he is today and instead of trying to change he just distanced himself from people cause he thought he was doing everyone around him a favor.

Who’d want to befriend a person with trauma?

When you first looked at him that day for a second, his curiosity was piqued cause you had been the first and only person to acknowledge him.

Of course, that’s his fault as well. He kept a low profile on purpose, so no one would try to get to know him.

But after years of being invisible out of seemingly nowhere on a random day, something about him apparently caught your eye, and you couldn’t stop staring.

What you wanted, he doesn’t even know, but he didn’t want to know because if you tried to get close to him, it’d only be bad for you.

Cause he was bad.

In his mission to protect his loved ones, he became a person who you needed protection from.

It started on a Sunday afternoon. He clearly remembers his dad always had that day off, a day that was meant for rest, and spending time with family turned into a never-ending shouting match with his mom's bruises and broken glass.

He was just ten at the time, a little too young to understand the gravity of it all, but by the age of sixteen, he was well aware because he was now a part of the Sunday shouting matches, the endless screams and cries that went on till late at night.

It wasn’t just yelling either as bad as yelling was he wished that was the only thing that happened.

But it was physical, too, which is no surprise because of the type of man his father was.

Tending wounds and cuts quickly became a nightly routine for the pair.

A time of bonding for him and his mother, the most important woman in his life.

But Instead of bonding over family vacations and road trips, they were bonding over their shared suffering.

Come eighteen it was just a staple in the household every night he’d prepare for it counting down the hours until a fight would ensue and pray it ended as soon as possible.

Six years later, he went from a cheerful kid with a bright future to someone who didn’t even know the meaning of bright.

All he saw was darkness, despair, rage resentment.

He doesn’t know why his mom stayed, but if she stayed, he stayed.

There’s no way he could leave her alone with that monster.

Unfortunately the situation and his lack of ability to direct his emotions elsewhere turned him into a person he had no control over.

He was angry at the world, angry at his dad, angry at his situation.

Why couldn’t his family be happy? Why couldn’t they have dinner and talk about their day like normal? Why couldn’t his father love him? Was he just that fucked up? Was all of this his fault?

He hates that he even questions himself for being at fault, but it’s hard not to when he was treated like trash by his own dad.

But deep down somewhere, he knows it’s not his fault, or at least he tries to reassure himself of that, but it was easier said than done.

So now he sits staring mindlessly out the library window, his face solemn, features tired and hardened.

An expression that never seemed to leave his face.

He doesn’t like feeling upset, but he just is. He always is, and yeah, he knows that’s a problem that needs to be fixed.

But who is he kidding? He’s a lost cause. He can’t be fixed.

Hell, he doesn’t even know if he deserves to be fixed at this point.

After what he’s done to you, to his father, to anyone that’s forced to be around him.

Sometimes he felt as if he was exaggerating because he knows people have it worse so what did he have to complain about.

He doesn’t know anymore. He’s just moving through life day by day without any regard for anyone who crosses his path, and that’s how it is going to stay.

He was set on that but as quick as his mind was made up it was changed as he saw you leaving the library the one where you first met.

Despite his better judgment and the anxiety he feels in his racing heart, he packs up and follows you out.

He stays on your trail, walking a good distance behind you so you won’t notice him.

Somewhere in him, he wished you did.

Maybe hoping that since you’re the first person to show him any interest that maybe you could bring something out of him that he couldn’t pull out of himself.

He knows it’s stupid, really, but he just wanted to be normal for once, have a girlfriend, go out on dates, make friends, and be a regular college student.

But that was buried so deep down that he knows it exists. He just doesn’t feel like it could reached.

Just like you couldn’t be reached as he watched you from afar, twisting your door open and going into your home.

-

The whole week went on like that, him following you, watching you.

It’s weird he gets that, but that's the closest he’s ever gonna be with you.

Maybe he wanted to apologize at least he thought about it but the last time a sincere apology came from his mouth was so long ago he couldn’t remember.

Would you forgive him? Probably not.

That fact made him sa-

He didn’t care one way or the other.

Yet after taking a one-day break from practically stalking you, he was at it again.

This time, doing something that probably wasn’t his best idea.

He quickly closed in behind you, catching you completely off guard.

“Shh shh,” he shushed you while covering your mouth and quickly opening the door to the dreadful classroom that you have been stuck in with him one too many times.

Before the panic could settle in your veins, he gently kissed your forehead. “I'm not gonna hurt you, y/n,” he breathed out, dropping to his knees before you and putting his hands on your thighs, stroking them up and down softly.

Shocked by the suddenness of his actions, your body grows weak at the sight of him kneeling down before you.

He grips your thighs, making you gasp softly, his hands bunching up your skirt. “I promise.” he draws his face closer to between your legs, peering up at you with his big round eyes.

You know you should say no, push him off, curse him out, and leave, but you were weak for him. Even after everything, you were still oddly drawn to him, so you stayed still, waiting for his next move.

“Let me make it up to you” he looked forward, his face leveled with your core, the outline of your pussy lips being shaped by the tight cotton material of your underwear.

He leans in, kissing you there softly and inhaling your scent, his cock growing embarrassingly hard in a matter of seconds.

Then his tongue falls from his mouth, slowly lapping at your core. “Heeseung,” you breathe out quietly, head resting on the door as you feel the familiar heat between your legs.

He listens to the sounds of pleasure that come from you, his eyes closing shut as he gets into it, his tongue sliding back and forth until your panties are damp with more than just your arousal. His hot tongue feels even better now that you can feel him through your soaked clothing.

He tugged your underwear down, revealing your perfectly shaven cunt. He licked his lips at the sight licking all over your smooth vulva, groaning at the softness as it met his tongue. You taste, sound, and look so good.

He uses his cold fingers to spread your lips apart and slide his tongue back and forth through your engorged folds.

Your hand finds his hair, fingers instinctively running through it, tugging at the roots, causing him to furrow his brows in pain, but he likes that cause pain is all he knows.

The pointed tip of his nose rubs your clit, and you whimper in pleasure cause it felt so so good.

He used his right hand, sticking two thick fingers in your aroused cunt, working you open on them as your knees buckled.

After filling you up, he removes his finger from inside you and stands up so he can take you somewhere more comfortable. He lays you on an empty desk, setting you down gently as he takes his rightful place on the ground on his knees, eating you out for forgiveness.

At least, that’s what this was in his head. In some way, this was easier than saying it out loud. He could only hope that you somehow understood him since sex was the only positive experience you had with him thus far.

His fingers slip back inside, prodding at your hole, his fingers curling up and rubbing that one special spot in you.

You gripped the desk, head thrown back as you moaned and whined at the sensation. He was so good with his tongue that you couldn’t even think about anything he’d done up to this moment.

Sucking on your clit he releases it with a lewd pop looking up from between your legs, loving the raw reaction you give him.

Chest heaving, mouth parted open, and your pussy squeezing on his fingers almost too tight he can barely push in, but he forces his way past your tight walls fucking you faster with his digits, your delicate body squirming on the desk.

He gulps down the juices that he collected on his tongue, sucking on your nub again, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm quickly builds.

“Fuck” you say breathlessly, and the soft curse that leaves your lips makes him go even harder fucking his fingers into you at a rapid pace, his lips wrapped securely around your clit, sucking an orgasm out of you.

Both your hands find his hair, this time tugging and pulling at it as you bite your lip and roll your hips into his face.

He moans against your heat as you yank on his hair. “Heeseung,” you say, blissed out, shaking before him, and the tight clench around his fingers is all he needs to confirm you’re feeling good.

He groaned, eyes rolling back in his head at your taste as he rode out your high, slowly rubbing your walls, giving you the most pleasure you’ve ever felt.

He licks your clit gently, careful not to over-stimulate you as you welcome every single last one of his touches.

You huff out a heavy breath, your heart pounding in your rib cage. As you catch your bearings, your hearing still sounds muffled due to the sheer intensity of what he’s done to you.

When you’ve settled enough, his fingers slip out of you, and he doesn’t hesitate to suck them clean.

He licks off the remainder of your cum and then kisses your clit.

He slipped your panties back up and helped you stand, his fingers lingering on you just a little longer than they needed to.

His eyes shifted, and he almost looked nervous as his eyes darted to your lips but shifted away even quicker.

You two shared eye contact for a few seconds, both of you searching for words, but coming up with nothing, he turned away and disappeared out of the classroom before the silence became too much.

A faint smile reaches your lips until you make a face of realization, finally registering what just happened.

Even when you come to and fully understood what just took place you didn’t regret a second of it.

⟱⟱⟱

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

[4unnyr0se]

pookie pls can you write for gojo where reader and him are coworkers at jujutsu high and have a dynamic similar to utahime and gojo? and like yaga is always making them work together even tho they don’t like eachother, but Gojo lowkey gets off on reader being annoyed at him so there is *tension*? 🥺🥺🥺

❥ whole lotta attitude | satoru gojo

warnings: enemies to lovers, gojo is a dickhead but it's okay because he's gojo, fem! reader, unprotected sex, office sex (im a slut for office sex), multiple orgasms, wall sex, roughness, one hickey, spanking, oral sex (m! receiving), making out, filthy filthy words are spoken, hella sexual tension, reader hates gojo but gojo loooooves her, gojo gets slapped once, degrading, praise, hair pulling, hate(?) sex, gojo texts like a super senior, a little bit of a textfic but not rlly, fluff at the end

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 3.6k

Jujutsu High was quiet today. That wasn’t unusual because most of the students were either out on missions or in Shokos’ office experiencing whatever the hell she called “medicine.” The quiet was nice, strangely calming, and reassuring. Being a jujutsu sorcerer yourself, calm was a foreign feeling. The cool breeze blew your hair softly in the wind, the songbirds tweeting a melody that was most becoming on this quiet say. You took a deep breath in as you leaned against a wooden pole, admiring how clear the sky was. Everything was simply perfect. If tomorrow was your last day alive, today would be the most wonderful send-off.

“Hey there princess! I missed you!” 

And just like that, there was no more peace. No more tranquility, no more sing-song bird crap. There’s only Satoru Gojo and his humongous ego that crushes anyone within a 50-foot radius. 

His deep voice was laced with a sickly sweet playful tone that made you want to grab his collar and punch him right in his perfect nose. God, you fucking hated him. He was the bane of your existence with his smug attitude and that stupid infinity that he only turned off when you were around. Did he seriously think you were that weak, and he didn’t even need to use infinity because he could defeat you within a millisecond? Stupid fucking handsome bastard, you hated him with every fiber of your being. 

“What, you’re ignoring me now? Don’t be like that, it’s not nice!” Gojo laughed and practically teleported to where you were sitting, his eyes no doubt sparkling under that black blindfold he always wore. 

You groaned and rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and looking away from the smug bastard. “Fuck off, Gojo. I was having a perfectly peaceful afternoon before your very existence ruined it for me.” You pinched your temple with your index finger and thumb, rubbing the stressed skin. “I was calm for once in my damn life. You really do have a talent for making me wish I was six feet under.”

Gojo playfully pouted and shifted himself to your other side, taking your hand off your temple. He cradled it with his own, royally pissing you off in the process. “Why are you always so grumpy all the time, huh? Is it because your students are always out on missions instead of keeping little ol’ your company?” He mocked slightly, letting go of your hand. His blue eyes sparkled beneath his blindfold, filled with mischief. “I could keep your company, you know that right? Or is Little Miss Grumpy Pants too high and mighty to give me a shot?”

“I would literally rather make out with Jogo than spend more time with you than I’m legally required.”

“Ouch, that hurt.”

“Too bad, so sad.” You smirked, shoving him away. If anyone else had seen that they would have been shocked. The mighty Satoru Gojo, pushed to the ground by a grade two sorcerer. You rose up from the wooden desk and dusted yourself off, walking away as quickly as you could in your tennis shoes.

“I always look forward to these meetings you know!” Gojo yelled at you in the distance only to see the faintest image of your middle finger wiggling at him. Gojo smirked and put down the hem of his blindfold, his hair returning to its usual upright position. 

You stormed back into your office and locked the door shut, sliding down against the mahogany doorframe in exhaustion. How was it possible that just being in his presence absolutely drained you of all resolve? Was he really that strong, or was he just super fucking annoying? You had no idea, no one ever had any idea when it came to Satoru Gojo. 

The beautiful day finally came to an end and you got back to your apartment, collapsing onto your couch. Most jujutsu sorcerers had house provided to them by their clans, but that was not your case. Your neighbors thought you were a teacher at some religious school deep in the country side. It was the best excuse you could come up with for being gone for practically days at a time. Maybe the only bus to the train station broke down or something, any old excuse like that in order to keep the nosy (and mostly elderly) fellow tennents off your back.

“Fuck my life…” You groaned, placing your head in your hands as you stumbled over to your cozy bedroom, it’s warm environment almost giving you a hug in its own way. You slipped into your pajamas and curled up under the covers, setting your alarm on your phone for the next morning. Just as you were about to close your eyes, your phone started to buzz. At first it was just a single vibration, probably a text from your mother or something. But the buzzes and vibrations kept coming until your phone was practically moving itself off the bed.

You groaned in annoyance and turned over, checking the notification center to see who the hell had the nerve to text you nine times in a row. And sure enough, sporting the contact photo of a .5 that he took of himself when he stole your phone that one time, Satoru fucking Gojo had spam texted you at 11:41PM.

“What the actual hell?” You whispered, unlocking your phone to see what could possibly be this important. Nothing was ever this important past 10PM, not even if your apartment building was on fucking fire.

The messages plagued your screen, his smirking face in the contact photo made you even more angry. And yet a faint blush found itself creeping up against your face. Maybe it was the sheer excitement of a man texting you at night, or maybe deep down you actually liked Gojo. You smacked yourself lightly on the cheek, trying to erase that thought from your sleep-ridden mind.

Worst person alive: heyyyy

Worst person alive: r u up???

Worst person alive: theres no way u actually went to bed, omg ur such a grandma

Worst person alive: im bored talk to me

Worst person alive: megumi wont answer my texts :(( i think he hates me

Worst person alive: i know ur awake, u were active three minutes ago on insta

Worst person alive: ik u blocked me on their but jokes on u i have 5 other accounts

Worst person alive: pls pls pls pls talk to me im dying over here princess

Worst person alive: btw yaga assigned us on a mission tmrw mwah

Your eyed widened at the last message, your hands gripped the phone with white-knuckle strength. “Fucker!” You yelled, turning off your phone before melting under the covers. Why did Yaga have to do this to you? You and Gojo together was torture enough, but now you had to do actual work with each other? Gojo was grossly incompetent at anything that didn’t involve exorcising cursed spirits. 

You sighed and closed your eyes, silently praying that a curse would somehow break into your bedroom and murder you right then and there. But unfortuanly, you woke up to your alarm blaring in your ear the next morning.

Gojo and yourself were sat in Yaga’s office, Gojo smirking at you the entire time. You blushed under his gaze, hands gripping the edges of your seat as you waited for Yaga to tell you what the assignment was. Was Yaga being late on purpose just to mess with you? Did you manage to piss him off somehow? A million questions were flying through your mind and there was no answer in sight. 

“I saw you read my messages princess.” Gojo finally spoke, leaning forward. He was significantly taller over you, his towering muscular frame intimating you. “Why didn’t you respond? I was really bored. It’s rude to ignore your friends.” He spoke, that same sticky and syrupy voice coming back to haunt you.

“Maybe that’s because we aren’t friends, Gojo.” You scoffed, flipping your hair behind your back. “Could you please just shut up until Yaga gets here? If I have to listen to you mock me again I might actually explode.” Sighing, you placed your face in your hands.

“Actually,” Gojo purred, getting up from his seat only to sit down in Yaga’s velvet office chair. “Yaga doesn’t have a mission for us, princess.” He kicked his feet up on the desk, taking off his blindfold. His snowy white hair fell into a beautiful mess, with his painfully gorgeous blue eyes lighting up his already hellishly handsome face.

You looked up from your hands to raise an eyebrow, your face immediately turning a bright red upon seeing Gojo without his signature blindfold. “I’m sorry, what? I don’t follow.”

Gojo tutted and threw the black fabric onto your lap, his eyes still staring at your blushing face. Gojo found it simply adorable how you would always get so flustered, so annoyed in his presence. How you would always deny being attracted to him, how you swore up and down that he was put on this Earth to make your life a living hell. But he noticed that you would always squeeze your thighs together when he spoke. It was precious, really. How you thought you could hide your painfully obvious desire for him.

“Ae you hard of hearing or something, princess?” Gojo purred, leaning forward to he could grab onto the collar of your navy blue work uniform. With just a snap of his wrists his face was mere centimeters away from your own, the tips of your noses were pressed up against each other so perfectly. You felt your breathing quicken, the atmosphere in Yaga’s office so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. “I said that Yaga never gave us a fucking mission. I just wanted to see you again.” He breathed out, his steaming air causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. His grip on your collar tighten, his eyes were filled with desire. Desire for you that’s long overdue to be broken.

Your brows furrowed at you gripped onto his wrist, trying your best to pry his hand away from your uniform collar. Twisting and turning his wrist every which way turned out ot be fruitless, causing you to grow ever more angry and flustered. Fuck Gojo and his superhuman abilities, fuck him for being the strongest. 

Instead, your hand came flying at his face. Your palm collided with his flesh, the cold stinging sensation snapping Gojo out of his lustful trance. His spare hand crept onto his cheek, rubbing the mark softly. You gulped, nervous to see how the strongest jujutsu sorcerer would react to getting slapped across the face by a grade two. 

He smirked and threw his head back slightly, a dark chuckle emitting from his throat. He looked back down at you, his grip on your collar so strong that you started to choke. “God, I was hoping you would fucking do that.” 

In an instant his lips were on yours, roughly clashing against each other. It took every fiber of his being to not rip all your clothes off right then and there, to bend you over Yaga’s desk and fuck you senseless. Oh how long Gojo had waited to feel your plump lips being ravaged by his own, and how deliciously rewarding it was to play the long game. Finally your lips were melding perfectly with each other, his tongue picking up just the faintest taste of peach chapstick. 

Gojo pulled away from the kiss after about a minute, a thick strand of saliva connecting your lips. He sighed in pleasue as his eye landed on your flustered face, your mouth still agape like a slut.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he muttered, stepping out from behind the desk. He pulled you out of your chair and trapped you against the wall, his muscular torso being so easily felt under the think fabric of the uniforms the school provided. “Been wanting to kiss you since forever, y’know.” He mumbled, dragging his callosued hands up and down the clothed snatches of your wasit. “Your lips taste even better than I imaged, sweetness.”

You blushed at his sultry words, the faint glim in his ocean blue eyes only making your knees evern weaker. Slowly but carefully, your arms wrapped themselves around his broad shoulders. “You’re still on my shitlist,” you muttered, standing on the tips of your toes to meet his eyeline.

“And you’re as stubborn as ever, princess.” Gojo purred picking you up by the bottoms of your thighs, Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, making it look like a scene straight out of a movie. “Such a pretty mouth, you gonna let me fuck it?” He whispered, rubbing circled on your bare thighs. The modest jujutsu skirt you wore covered your legs quite nicely, so you never really felt the need to wear tights. And that drove Gojo fucking wild.

“Depends, what’s in it for me?” You smirked, tugging lightly on the baby hairs at the back of his head. Gojo hissed in pleasure, kind of proud that you were being equally as bratty to him as he was to you. 

“The best fuck you’ll ever get, plus some more.” Gojo let go of your thighs, letting you drop onto your knees. You looked up at him, gulping in anticipation as you saw the imprint of his throbbing erection covered by his pants. “You gotta get me prepared first, princess. Or else I might not fuck that pussy as good, got it?” His voice was dripping with desire for you as his expert hands pulled down his pants, tossing them aside along with his boxers. His cock tapped against his shirt, leaving the smallest precum stain.

You bit down on your lip at the sight of his cock, moving yourself foreward. Ever so carefully, your right hand gripping onto the base of his cock. Tongue falling out of your mouth, you took his cock in your wet cavern slowly, your cheeks hollowing out to accommodate his girth and length.

“Shit princess, just like that. Yeah, I knew you would be good at suckin’ dick.” Gojo praised, offering you a slanted smile as your hands stroked what your mouth couldn’t fit. His large hand tangled itself into your messy hair, tugging on the roots ever so gently. His hips bucked into your mouth ever so slowly, almost painfully slow. He treated you like you were so fragile, sharp contrast to when he had you pinned against the wall with his tongue shoved down your throat.

He groaned in pleasure as his cock his the back of his throat, his hips driving his member down your throat even faster. His grip on your hair tighten, causing a small pool of tears to well in the corner of your eye. A singular droplet ran down your pretty little face, which Gojo thought was just the cutest little thing.

“Oh, is my princess crying? What, my dick to big for your slutty little mouth?” His hips stopped snapping into your face, pulling your mouth off of his member slowly. “Well, if you can’t handle my dick in your mouth,” He grabbed your arm, throwing you against the desk. His pushed you down so your face was against the hard mahogany wood, with your ass up and on display for Gojo to smack. “Then maybe your pretty pussy will be able to handle me, hm?”

He shoved your skirt above your ass, the blue material bunching the divet in your waist. His hand ran over your soaked panties, shoving them aside to expose your soaked core to the cold office air. “So pretty f’me…” Gojo mumbled, gathering up some of your slick on his thumb and popping it inside of his mouth. “Delicious too, maybe you’ll be my dinner one day. Wouldn’t you like that, princess?” He teased, his hand cracking against the supple flesh of your perfect ass.

“Fuck!” you cried out, your hands gripping onto the wooden desk for dear life. You grew increasingly frustrated, especially knowing that Gojo was taking immense pleasure in making you wait tt get fucked. “Dammit Gojo, just fuck me already!” You demanded, your eyes being slightly covered by your mess of hair falling in front of them. 

He smacked his hand across your ass again, alighting his cock with your sobbing entrance. “You sure got a whole lotta attitude, princess.” He purred, teasing your hole with his mushroom head. “I’ll be sure to fuck it outta you, don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

He shoved his cock inside of you, hissing as your tight walls enveloped his member. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, having never experienced someone as big or as girthy inside of you. Sure, you had slept around before but this time he might actually make you cum. You wouldn’t have to fake an orgasm just for it to end.

“Shit, Gojo!” You screamed, lifting your head up from the desk to meet his gaze from behind. “Y-you’re too fuckin’ big, you know that?”

Gojo smirked and started to slowly thrust himself in and out of your weeping cunt, the sound of his groans mixing with your moans of pleasure filling the chilly office. “God, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Squeezing me already, princess? Good fuckin’ slut.” He grunted, pulling your hair back so your neck was against his mouth. His hips were now snapping furiously at your ass, his balls clapping against the skin. “You won’t mind if I give you a little mark, right? Gotta make sure you remember being bent over like this, pretty thing.”

His sharp teeth bit down onto your neck, sucking a nasty purple circle right where your jugular would be. The stimulation was utterly overwhelming, your mouth was agape and your throat was starting to hurt from all your cries. “Fuck, such a good slut for me.”

Gojo’s rough and callosued hands reached under your top to grope one of your tits, his fingers pinching and rubbing your nipple under the thin fabric. He could feel your orgasm was fast approaching the way you squeezed onto his cock, almost like your body was trying to suck him in even deeper inside of you. “Gojo, fuck! T-Too fucking handsy!” You managed to moan out, your brain slowly starting to turn to mush as the coil in your belly threatened to snap at any minte. “Fuck, gonna fucking cum!”

Gojo smirked and smacked your ass once more, slipping his hand from behind you to rub on your sensitive clit. “Cum all over this cock baby, f-fuck. Be a good fucking girl.” He demanded in your ear, his fingers now furiously rubbing themselves on your clit while his cock hit every place it needed to.

With a wanton gasp you threw your head back onto his shoulders, your orgasm washing over you like tsunami or a tidal wave. Wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over your every nerve, your eyes feeling fuzzy as you swore you could see stars.

“Fuck, holy fuck! Gojo, oh my fucking God!” you sobbed, your bottom lip trembling as you came down from your high. Gojo sighed and began to kiss your neck gently, his thrusts becoming faster and desperate as he felt his own euphoria approaching.

“Shit, gonna cum princess. Lemme cum inside of you, yeah? God you’re so fucking warm and tight, fuck!” He moaned into your neck, the movement of his hips becoming staggering and sloppy as his hot ropes of sticky cum coated your insides, filling you up so nicely. “F-fuck, oh my god…”

Gojo pulled out of you, smirking to himself as he saw his cum leak from your sloppy pussy. “Fucking amazing, princess.” He bent down to pick up his boxers and pants, putting them on quickly. 

You got up from leaning over the desk and turned around, your face flushed and your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Your hands still gripping onto the table, your pretty lips slightly agape. “Holy shit…I think that was the best sex I’ve ever fucking had.” You breathed out, brushing the sweaty babyhairs out of your face.

Gojo smiled and bent down slightly, kissing your nose with a gentleness that was the complete opposite of how he fucked you. “I’ve been wanting to do that sicne I met you, you know.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, adjusting your stretched-out shirt collar. “Stop lying, you already fucked me. No need to lie anymore, Gojo.”

He frowned and grabbed onto your hand, his thumb carefully rubbing onto the back of it. “I’m not lying, you know.”

Raising an eyebrow you looked into his blue eyes, curious as to why there wasn’t a hint of deception swirling around in his oceans of blue. “Gojo…are you being serious?” You whispered, a blush once again covering your face. It wasn’t a blush of desire but a blush of shyness, like you were sixteen years old and just got confessed to.

“Satoru,” he spoke, bringing your hand to cup his pale face. “Call me Satoru, please.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes once more, your hand gently petting his flushed face. You took a step towards him, allowing Gojo to wrap his other hand around your waist. You two held each other in Yaga’s office, the scent of sex and passionate still filling up the otherwise stiff air.

“What are you gonna call me then, Satoru?” You softly spoke, standing on the tips of your toes so your lips were hovering against his once more. Gojo offered you a gentle smile, pecking your lips tenderly.

“I’m gonna call you mine.”

[luna-loveboop]

So one thing I like about Time is that he will talk about his life and journeys

He talks about it! He'll tell the boys stories and answer questions. (...when asked)

Obviously he tells his family- Malon knows everything

But he has also never held back from telling the boys stories or answering questions

I'm still always cackling over him telling them about gerudo town- he is way too proud to brag about being a mischievous gremlin

"I proved to be a greater thief than all of ganons tribe"- oh yeah. He's definitely the good influence. (That's sarcasm, Wars is the one good example for the younger ones.)

He just. He looks so smug to tell them about his experiences with the Gerudo- I love how often we see him just talking to them and answering questions about his life.

Even if it's clearly painful memories- he has still always told them

*sobs*

Obviously Time talks to Twilight the most about stuff- and everyone knows that (to where Sky went to him for questions about Time)

But the thing that get me the most is Wind.

Wind asked about... everything! Wind asked about his first journey and his life- and Time told him

The sheer transition from

"I was wondering... about your original journey"

To

"You told me about your original journey. Everything you said... the sages you described, the old traditions, the old stories- all of it! ...)

And this literally drives me insane because Time told him- Time told him everything! He told him about the sages, traditions- Time literally openly talked to Wind about his first Journey because he asked.

The Hero of Time's story had always been a tragedy- I mean... yikes. Trauma much? But I think people overlook this part of him- that he's older. All the hurt and scars are still there, but he has learned to talk about it to deal with it. And I think I know why- (Read)

Malon Malon Malon Malon!!! Jojo showed this set up for their marriage- Time was and is traumatized. But he and Malon worked to talk through things. I mean. Can you imagine keeping secrets from Malon? I don't want to. I feel like she would throw a cow at me. Anyways.

It takes a lot to work through trauma and learn to talk through it. Malon claimed him tho, so I don't think he had a choice. But seriously- she helped him work through things as family. Which led to a successful marriage for both of them, and got Time to where he can talk about these things with the boys :D

But

Time is a troll, so although he will share his insane life stories.... he will also say he fought the moon with no more context, and tell his wife that they have a descendant but not freaking tell her which one it is.

He's so insane I love it <3

Just don't forget this part of him... don't forget that rather it's sad or goofy or whatever- he will talk about his life. If someone simply asks

:)

.

Art and comic by Jojo @linkeduniverse au! :DDD

@adrift-in-thyme

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom - Part 2

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4911

AN: Didn't think I'd write this, but the opportunity was too good to let pass. :)

Click here for Part 1!

DAY 2

“I can’t believe you,” Tony says, watching as you anxiously like a caged animal. “I mean, I can, because Romanoff is smoking hot, but really? On your first day?”

“I didn’t know who she was!” you snap, your stomach churning in knots. You hadn’t been able to eat breakfast, even ignoring the hot black coffee your secretary Wanda had waiting for you like usual when you arrived to the office.

“Literally the daughter of the guy of our biggest rival,” Tony says, clearly only trying to make you feel worse than you already feel.

“I know who he is!” you bark, well familiar with Alexei Shostakov, the enormous, bearded and beer-bellied Russian who had once been on the board of directors at Envy Industries. Alexei was long gone from your dad’s company by the time you entered the scene, and at that point had formed Black Widow Corporation into a juggernaut. Word on the street was that Alexei used “unconventional methods” to stay ahead of competitors and now you wondered if you had fallen right into one of those traps. 

“Why was Romanoff even at the party in the first place?” you ask.

“Why do you think?” Tony scoffs. “Daddy probably sent her to mess with you and no offense…but it worked.”

“We don’t know that,” you defend, although your gut is telling you that Tony is right. 

“So, what did you tell her?” Tony asks, kicking his chair back to wobble on its hind legs.

“Nothing!” You sigh, your brain scrambling to remember your interaction with Natasha before you took her up to your suite. “Uh, I mean…I mentioned the contract we have with Tesla. But a bunch of other people probably overhead too, and that’s not exactly a secret anymore.”

“Mhmm, sure. Anything else?” Tony prompts.

“No. No, nothing else,” you say with an edge of uncertainty. “There wasn’t really much time for talking, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know you, you horndog.” He waves at you.

For once, you feel immensely guilty about not being able to control your behavior. This wouldn’t be the first time you had to face the consequences of the people you chose to take to bed with you, but none had been this jarring or dangerous. You feel used, even though you truly hadn’t revealed any company secrets to Natasha. Just the thought that she knew who you were, and wasn’t honest with you about herself, made your whole interaction with her feel slimy and fake. While you also knew it was ridiculous to think that you were in love with someone you just met, even you won’t deny there had been some kind of spark between you two, but perhaps it had all been manufactured. 

You genuinely want to see Natasha again, hopefully in more honest circumstances, and not just purely for the physical pleasure of it. You knew she was one of the few women on Earth who truly understood your line of work. She didn’t need to pretend (or even study ahead) like some of the partners you had in the past. She was beautiful and smart and managed to turn you into a stuttering, whipped mess in less than ten minutes. No one else had ever been able to do that, and as humbling as it was, it was also hot as hell.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you ask, pulling at the suffocating collar of your shirt. 

“First of all, don’t see her ever again,” Tony responds, and it sounds like he’s telling you you’re not allowed to breathe anymore.

“Fuck,” you grumble, because you know he’s right, but it won’t be that easy to just forget about Natasha. 

“Seriously, Y/N,” Tony goes on. “You have a whole company to run now. Let the media say what they want, but promise me that you won’t be caught with that woman ever again.”

“Caught, you say?” you tease, knowing that he would always offer you a way out.

“I know you,” he repeats. “Besides, I heard she has a sister.”

You laugh, the tense mood lightening considerably. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put in a good word for you when I see her again.”

“You’re the best.” Tony stands up to give you a high-five.

***********************************************************************

Natasha hums to herself as she opens her laptop. She plugs in her headphones and boots up the application that is connected to the microphone she slipped into your jacket pocket. Over 12 hours of audio have already been recorded. Just out of curiosity, she scrolls to the first hour.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

Natasha feels her core light up with desire as she remembers the previous night with you. It had been a long time since she had been fucked so well and you certainly lived up to the hype. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember how your body had felt against hers, the way your muscles flexed in warning when you were about to finish but were waiting for her permission, the intoxicating taste that coated her tongue and had her (quite literally) demanding more and more from you.

“Hey, sestra.” Yelena walks in without knocking, and Natasha’s eyes snap open, tearing off her headphones and closing the audio application.

“What?” she growls, annoyed by the interruption.

Yelena smirks at her. “How was the party last night?”

“Good.”

Yelena doesn’t look convinced. “Did you see that TMZ article?”

“Anyone who relies on that hack as a legitimate source of information is just setting themselves up for disappointment.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Yelena states, walking up to Natasha and showing her her phone. 

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff 

Below the headline is a grainy photo of her almost sitting on your lap, both of your heads leaned close together. 

“What’s your point?” Natasha asks, pushing Yelena’s phone away from her face.

“Did Dad approve of this?”

“What does his approval have to do with anything?” Natasha snaps. “I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want–”

“We’re not stupid, Natasha,” Yelena frowns. “And you aren’t either. You aren’t getting mixed up with just anyone, this is the CEO of Envy Industries–”

Natasha waves her hand. “Just stop, Yelena. I know what I’m doing, okay? And I’m the one who’s going to take over the company when Dad steps down, so I need to make sure that we are on top and stay that way.”

Yelena’s expression softens. “Just be careful, sestra. You don’t know what some of these people are capable of.”

“Like Y/N?” Natasha laughs. “She’s just a big rich idiot. I could steal her entire company right from under her nose and she’d just go fill her bed with Victoria’s Secret models and forget it by the next morning.”

“Please be careful, Nat,” Yelena begs. “Do not forget what happened last time–”

“That was in the past. I know better now,” Natasha dismisses, although the hair on the back of her neck rises at the memory. She had been too cocky, too arrogant, and nearly lost her life as a result. But she was certain that wouldn’t happen with you. She had you eating out of the palm of her hand even before the mind-blowing sex. You’d happily hand her the keys to Envy Industries if she promised you five minutes in bed. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Natasha gruffs, turning back to her computer. “Close the door on your way out.”

Yelena doesn’t respond and backtracks. Natasha waits until she hears the click of her door to open the files on her flash drive that contains the data stolen from your systems. None of your files are even password-protected. Maybe your company was even more of a joke than she thought.

***********************************************************************

DAY 14

Tesla backs out of contract with Envy Industries, reportedly in talks with Black Widow Corporation for GPUs

DAY 15

Envy Industries (ENVY) stock drops 15%

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) stock up 10%

DAY 18

Tesla hires Black Widow Corporation to produce hardware for upcoming Model 2

DAY 24

Black Widow Corporation announces AI supercomputer project

DAY 30

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) joins the Magnificent Seven stocks, knocking Envy Industries (ENVY) out

“You need to fix this. Now.”

“I’m trying!” you practically sob, staring at the same headline on your computer that your father is looking at. 

Your first 30 days as CEO had been an absolute whirlwind–of defeats. First, an intern at Tesla had called you to tell you the deal was off. And then to hear that they were taking up business with Black Widow Corporation was like a sucker punch to the gut. No one at your company could understand how Black Widow suddenly had the technology you’d been working on for months, but a nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were the only person who knew the answer.

But you couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure. After all, you had spent one night with Natasha Romanoff, most of it in bed with her getting your brains fucked out. But she had left even before you woke up, and there was no way to confirm if she had managed to get her hands on the confidential information that your company was built upon.

Whatever had happened, Envy Industries was on a steady decline ever since you had taken over and it was not a good feeling. The stock prices were tanking and now you had lost your spot amongst the prized “Magnificent Seven”–also known as the seven highest-valued companies in the United States. It was embarrassing, shameful, and upsetting. The board of directors were having daily meetings about your leadership qualities and you were worried they would boot you from the position any day now. Your father still had some influence, despite stepping down, but with the way he was speaking to you now, you weren’t sure he was going to defend you anymore.  

“I don’t care how Black Widow Corp got the intel. They have it now and we can’t get it back. You need to raise security protocols and if anyone is caught leaking information, they will be publicly humiliated and sued to kingdom come,” your dad rages through the phone. 

“Yes, yes, I agree,” you say.

“You need to focus on recovering from this. What’s done is done. But if you let it get worse, there will be severe consequences. For the company, for its future, and for you.”

“Yes. Yes, Dad,” you gulp.

“Stop fucking around and get your shit together,” he says. “You have a reputation that precedes you and thousands of people are depending on you to see them through this. Envy will come back. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you repeat hollowly, not even convinced of your own words.

“Good girl. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.” You hang up and put your phone face-down on your desk, staring once more at the headline. For the first time, you don’t feel sad, you feel angry. You want to lash out at something–someone. Preferably the person or persons who put you in this predicament. You didn’t deserve this. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to mope around and let them continue to take advantage of you.

There’s a heavy knock on your door.

“Hey, Y/N. Ready for lunch?” It’s Tony.

“Sure. Give me a minute.” You whip your burgundy blazer off the back of your chair with more force than necessary; it gets twisted upside-down and something falls out of the pocket. You squat to pick it up. It’s a black, small, flat circular device that blinks red and there’s tiny little ridges in the center to indicate some kind of microphone.

What the hell is this? you think. You look back at your burgundy jacket. It’s the same one you were wearing the day you were made CEO, the night you met Natasha Romanoff. It wasn’t your most worn jacket, making the occasional appearance if you felt it complimented the rest of your outfit, but spending most of its time hanging in the front of your closet.

A disturbing thought enters your head. This little device couldn’t be what you thought it was, right? But you knew tech better than most people. And you knew that Black Widow Corporation had somehow gotten ahold of confidential information that was causing catastrophic damage to your company.

It takes all of five seconds to formulate a plan. 

You slip the audio recorder back into your pocket and put your jacket on.

Two could play at this game.

“Hey, Tony. Where are we going for lunch?” you call out, trying to keep your voice flat and clear.

“The steakhouse!” But his voice is muffled through the door.

“The steakhouse? The one on 6th Avenue, right?” you ask.

“Unless you suddenly have a new favorite that’s not on 6th,” he grumbles.

“Nope, that’s fine. Let me go check on something in the lab and I’ll be ready.”

***********************************************************************

“What’s wrong with you? Did they get your order wrong?” Tony asks as you poke at the slab of beef on your plate. 

“I’m just not really hungry,” you say. “You know, since our whole company is falling apart and everything.”

“Well, it’s still standing the last time I checked.” You appreciate how straightforward Tony is. Granted, he isn’t under the same kind of pressure as you, but you need someone who can be this cool under pressure in your life. “And I know you can’t be productive on an empty stomach. Should we order those crab legs you like?” 

“No more food please,” you mumble, pushing your plate away from you. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hurry back. Or I’ll order the whole appetizer menu!”

“Okay, whatever.” But you smile as you walk away from the table to the back. You look at your reflection in the gold gilded mirror, noticing the clear stress lines in your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the way your cheeks are more hollowed in because you aren’t eating your usual 4,000 calories a day.

You rinse your hands in the sink and pat water on your face. You hear the door open behind you and your heart starts pounding faster. Had your plan worked?

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her voice snaps you to attention, velvety and seductive just like how you remember hearing it the first time. You turn to see Natasha Romanoff leaned against the wall, wearing a white blouse ready to burst at its buttons along with black slacks and towering heels. Her hair loosely bounces on her shoulders and her exposed wrists and neck are adorned with more jewelry than you can count. 

“You,” you growl, striding over to her in three big steps and glaring down at her. “Are we adding stalker charges to your growing list of crimes now?”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha tilts her head to the side dumbly. “I’m here for lunch, just like you. A coincidence isn’t a crime–”

You pull the little audio device out of your pocket. Natasha’s eyes widen for a second before she quickly turns her expression into one of defiance, but she’s already given away her familiarity. “So this is how you’ve been stealing all of our ideas, huh?” you ask. 

“You have no proof that came from me,” she objects.

“I guess not.” You toss the device to the floor and stomp on it so hard with your Gucci loafers that it crumbles with an audible crunch. “And now we’ll never know. But now you’ll have to leave alone for a little bit, right? You have to give us some time to come up with more ideas for you to steal–”

“It’s nothing personal,” Natasha insists. “Business is business, isn’t it?”

“Well, once you put my reputation at risk–” You move one step closer until your chests almost bump. “–My future at risk–” You lower your head until you’re practically breathing on her face. Natasha doesn’t shy away. In fact, you think you see a glint of triumph in her green eyes. “–It becomes very, very personal.”

The tension between you is so thick it’s suffocating. You refuse to break eye contact with Natasha, but you’re not even sure what your next move should be. You know that you should hate this woman, should be calling for her head and outing her to the media for the literal crimes she’s committed, but you also want her. She hadn’t left your mind since the day you met her and knowing that she had been spying on you this whole time was both infuriating and a little arousing. 

Natasha suddenly grabs onto the front of your shirt, yanking you closer to her until your lips crash together. You hate that the contact makes you feel relief, and you wonder if part of your recent frustration can be attributed to the fact that all this time you were secretly yearning for the same woman who was responsible for ruining your life.

“Things between us are very, very personal,” Natasha whispers, her hands slipping under your shirt to scratch across your abdomen. The coldness of her skin makes you want to cringe away, but her fingers hook onto your belt to keep you from going too far.

“Did you get jealous listening to all the girls I was fucking?” you ask.

“No,” Natasha says, but her cheeks redden and you know she’s lying. “But none of them could make you moan the way I do.”

“I wished they were you,” you admit, panting against her forehead as she undoes your belt. “Which is a fucked up thing to say given what you’ve been doing to my company.”

“I’m very good at what I do, baby,” Natasha says, pressing another hot kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll make your life hell if you don’t stop fucking with my company,” you growl, but your threat is significantly undermined by the whimper you let out when her fingers trace down the V-line of your hips to your center. 

“Would you rather I fuck you over your company?” she asks.

“Shit,” you gasp, unable to focus on her question when two fingers slip into you. You’re embarrassingly soaked for her, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had wet dreams of letting Natasha Romanoff fuck you ever since your first encounter. You fall back against the wall, panting as she pistons her fingers in and out of you. “Someone might walk in,” you warn, suddenly reminded about the forbiddenness of this relationship.

“I locked the door,” Natasha says, using her free hand to tug down the collar of your shirt so she can lick and kiss the skin of your neck. You bite on your lip to muffle your moan, your hands going to hold her hips roughly, pulling her closer to you. Her fingers curl and her thumb presses hard into your clit. You feel yourself clench tightly around her and your knees are ready to buckle. “For the record, I did miss you too.” 

“What took you so long?” You have no idea how you’re able to hold a conversation with Natasha Romanoff while she fucks you, but here you are. Your hands wander towards her ass, cupping her solidly and almost lifting her off the floor. 

“I had to wait,” she answers simply, her thumb flicking against your clit and your stomach burns with the stimulation. The slick noises of her fingers sliding into you is downright filthy and you rock your hips forward to urge her to move faster.

“What did you…have to wait…for?” you pant. “Your stocks to…overtake…mine?”

“Sure, baby,” Natasha says, nibbling at your collarbone and marking you with a dark hickey. You still have enough consciousness to notice the way she dodges your question. “You want to cum for me?” she asks, pistoning her hand faster.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, already on the verge of finishing. You adjust the angle of your hips so she can reach deeper, her fingers brushing past the sensitive ridges that make you see stars with every touch.

“Wait until I say,” she demands and you whine at her dominance. But you’re in no position to negotiate, so you keep your back pressed against the wall, desperately fighting the tidal wave of arousal threatening to crash down. 

“Nat,” you say, your fingers digging hard into her ass, “Please let me–”

“Wait,” she repeats, sounding both annoyed and aroused. She pumps into you harder and faster, until you’re quivering and don’t think you can physically hold back anymore–

“Babe–”

“Cum for me.”

You feel like your body is tearing apart as you explode over her hand, arching your back off the wall, pressing your heaving chest into Natasha’s, heart pounding like you’ve just sprinted through a marathon. Natasha’s thrusts slow as you ride out your orgasm, and as you slump against the wall, she pulls her fingers out and, sticking them into her mouth to suck off your juices. You watch her hungrily, still dizzy from the rush of endorphins. 

“My turn,” you say, hooking your arms under her thighs and her arms loop around your neck. You pick her up effortlessly and shuffle with her into the handicapped stall. This time, Natasha’s back is pinned to the wall as you crash your lips into hers, reigniting the heat between your legs. But you’ve already got your release and you are more than eager to return the favor. 

You pull down her pants and panties, mouth watering at the sight of her glistening center. You crouch down to pick her up again, this time letting her thighs rest on your shoulders so when you stand up, her pussy is perfectly in line with your mouth. Natasha’s hands tangle tightly in your hair as she draws your head towards her center, her calves locking across the back of your neck.

Without needing any more prompting, you pull forward to taste her. Her moans are music to your ears as you lap at her dripping heat, your tongue pressing deeper in search of more. All you can smell is her, all you can taste is her, and all you can think about is her. Natasha is sinful heaven to you and for a few seconds, you let yourself completely forget about how she’s ruining your life.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door.

“Hello? Why is this locked?” someone’s voice on the other side says. 

You reach up with your right hand and cover Natasha’s mouth. She bites into the side of your hand and you hiss at the pain.

“Go get one of the staff.”

“You better finish soon,” you hum, nipping at the insides of her thighs while she squirms on your shoulders. “Or the whole world is going to hear me eating you out in here.”

“They should,” Natasha pants, gripping almost painfully at the back of your head, trying to force you back between her legs. “They need to know that you’re all mine, baby.”

You want to tell her that you don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not her of all people, but the protests die in your throat as she squeezes her thighs around your head. You truly are some kind of servant to Natasha Romanoff. Your tongue runs up and down her slit, poking at her throbbing clit as she bucks forward against your face.

“Fuck, take me already,” she whines. 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

“Less talking, more fucking,” she demands.

“Same to you.” You shove your fingers into her mouth to quiet her, and she sucks on them in a way that you try to mirror against her pussy. Wrapping your lips around her clit and thrusting your tongue into her until she’s a puddle in your arms.

“...I don’t know why the door is locked. Let me speak to the manager to get the key.”

Natasha’s whimpers are muted so you have to gauge her reaction by the rest of her body. The way she grips onto your hair like it’s some kind of lifeline. Her walls milk your tongue desperately, slick spilling onto your chin. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to get enough of this woman.

The door clicks open just as Natasha finally comes undone. Your fingers muffle her moans as you quickly lick her clean, wishing you had time to bring her to a second orgasm, but the heels on the floor indicate the two of you are no longer alone. You slowly lower Natasha to the floor, suddenly feeling the burn in your shoulders as you finally relieve yourself of her weight.

“Call me next time you want to fuck someone,” Natasha pulls you in for one final kiss and slips something into your pocket. It’s her business card. 

“We’ll see,” you say, still not exactly sure of this arrangement, but not having the time to hang around and discuss. You leave the stall first, washing off at the sink and slinking out.

***********************************************************************

Natasha waits until you’ve left the bathroom to adjust herself in the mirror. She reapplies another layer of lipstick, smoothing down her blouse and tucking it back into her pants. She struts out of the restaurant, her body tingling in the aftermath of her sexcapade in the bathroom with you.

She steps into the alley adjacent to the restaurant and stands by the overflowing dumpster. She takes your wallet out of her pocket, unfolding it and laughing at the photo on your driver’s license. It was almost disappointing how easy you were. You weren’t cut out to lead a powerful company like Envy Industries. While you might have had the intellect, you clearly could not handle confrontation and even the idea of failure.

Natasha almost feels bad for you, but not bad enough to stop.

She empties the cash from your wallet, the several crisp hundred dollar bills fluttering to the ground. Maybe they’ll make some lucky homeless person’s day. Natasha pockets your heavy metal credit cards, despite having no intention but to use them as paperweights for her office. Then she finds what she’s really after: the solid black card that’s your apartment key. 

Natasha discards your wallet into the dumpster and walks out to the street to be picked up by her driver. 

***********************************************************************

You return to the table, smoothing back your hair and pulling at the newly-formed wrinkles in your shirt. You barely remember to button your shirt back up to your throat to hide the collar of hickeys Natasha left to remember her by.

“You were in there a while,” Tony comments. “You need some Pepto?”

“No, I’m fine.” You sit down, staring at your cold steak while you think. “Can we go now? I have some stuff I need to do.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony calls for the waitress and the check. You slip your phone out to view the location of the tracking device you (literally) implanted into Natasha.

It was a tiny, tiny device, probably about the size of a grain of rice. You could barely feel its weight when you have it balanced on the tip of your finger. 

“This GPS will provide an accurate location down to a meter,” Dr. Pym explains. “Designed and manufactured right here at Envy Industries, so you can rest assured this is the highest quality product you’ll find on the market.”

“Don’t mention this to my dad, will you?” you request, placing the little tracker back in its foam-padded case.

“Of course,” Dr. Pym says. “I answer to you and only you now.”

“Good.”

You weren’t a hundred-percent sure how successful you’d be, but you had tried your best to hold the GPS on your fingertip before sticking your fingers in Natasha’s mouth. Her natural reaction would be to suck and swallow, and you were hoping that the rice-sized GPS would easily find its way down her esophagus into her. 

There was no way she would know about it (or even be able to taste it) in the heat of the moment, and after a few days, it would pass through and the evidence wouldn’t be in her system anymore. You didn’t need more than a few days to track her location and habits. 

With a sigh of relief, you see the red dot on the map indicating that she’s still waiting by the street side of the restaurant, probably for her driver. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, wondering what Natasha would say when she realizes you’re willing to play just as dirty as her.

The waitress boxes up your steak and hands it to you in a paper bag. You and Tony leave through the back entrance to the cramped parking lot and you wait until you’ve climbed into his Aston Martin to say, “Are you still in touch with that…uh…Buck guy?”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “Oh, you mean Bucky? Yeah, I see him from time to time. Why?”

You’ve never made a request like this before in your life, and you know the moment you do, it’s going to change everything. You take a deep breath, fighting the anxiety in your chest.

“I need him to get me a gun.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Click here for Part 3!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[lleeanarr]

pt 2.

summary: The relationship was unexpected not only from the fans, but it was unexpected to the both of them as well.

genre: fluff, smau

paring: Lando Norris x Influencer!reader

warnings! : swearing, attempted humour

fc: Lani Pliopa

a/n: part two! sorry for the long wait😞😞

prev | next

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reacted with : 😮‍💨

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yourusername

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: i'm literally so sorry for taking so long to release the second part i will be posting more frequent hopefully...😓

taglist: @iamahallucinationnn , @hurtblossom , @papaya-twinks , @kami10471633 , @ahnneyong