#bc i don't know if that's still with me or not

[lee-laurent]

T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

~~

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

~~

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

~~

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

~~

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

~~

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

~~

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

~~

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

~~

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

~~

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

~~

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

~~

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

~~

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

[faithshouseofchaos]

hi i don't think this is a real request but for franco colapinto it's kinda cliche ikr (but i believe in your writing skills so)

older reader (u don't need to specific the age) who refuse to be with franco bc she thinks it's better for him to be with someone close his age, but ofc they're in love and franco is down bad for her even though she's kinda cruel sometimes

so angst with a happy end? or at least something realistic? idk and it's up to u to add other stuff! *oh and they're from the same country or foreigners etc*

“She calls me kidz bop” — Franco colapinto x fem!reader

Word count 3.5k

Warnings — Angst, heavy makeouts allusion of smut

This isn’t as good as I thought it would be

Tagged— @crispysoup318 @meeel-things @bieberismysoulmate @dejavuontrack @barcelonaloverf1life @nominsgirl @bluebluesol @chenlesbitxh @ironmaiden1313 @chunkpiboli @kr7-i-know-what-im-doing

Franco watched as y/n stood talking to her fellow driver Something deep inside him wished that she gave him the same attention as she did the rest of them. It didn’t matter if they had feelings for each other. It also didn’t matter that she was so cruel to him and gave him nicknames like Kidz Bop, Teeny Bopper, or Rug Rat.

He didn’t mind the teasing or the nicknames, he could take it. He’s used to being teased by others but not by the one he’s falling for, and he didn’t want to admit it but a part of him knew he was slowly concluding that he loved her. Franco leaned against the garage wall, staring at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

He continued to observe y/n’s body language. The way she stood with her arms crossed, the way she laughed at the other driver’s jokes, even the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was maddening.

Franco clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his frustration. He wanted to speak to her but he was uncertain of what to say. As he watched her, he noticed she was glancing his way. A small smile crept onto his lips as he realized that she was looking his way. He felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of hope and nervousness. He took a deep breath, summoning his courage, and finally stepped forward.

As he approached, he could feel her eyes on him, studying him. He tried to act casually, his hands still in his pockets, but he couldn’t help the way his heart was racing. He cleared his throat, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

Y/n turned her attention away from her co-drivers and looked at Franco, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, what do you want?”

Franco swallowed hard, trying to ignore the coolness in her voice. He took a step closer, not caring that they had an audience, “Can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

Y/n nodded, gesturing for him to follow her out of the garage. Once they were alone in a secluded area, she turned to him with her arms crossed. “What's on your mind, kidz bop?”

Franco took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nickname. He knew it was her way of keeping him at arm’s length, but it stung nonetheless. He looked into her eyes, gathering his courage. “I wanted to talk to you about us…”

Y/n’s expression remained neutral, but he could see a flicker of something in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, “What about us?”

Franco rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “Well, I just wanted to know…if there’s ever a chance for us?”

Y/n let out a snort, “A chance? Kidz bop, you’re way too young for me. You need to find someone your age.” Franco's heart sank at her words, but he tried to hide his disappointment. “I don’t care about age. I just want to be with you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, very romantic. But I’m not interested in dating some kid who still has a curfew. I need someone more mature.” Franco clenched his fists in frustration, “I’m not a kid. I’m just as mature as any other driver out there.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, sure you are. I bet you still have a teddy bear in your bed and your mom still picks out your outfits.” Franco's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he tried to maintain his composure. He couldn’t deny that he had a teddy bear, but he certainly hadn’t asked his mom for fashion advice since he was 12.

“I’m a grown man,” he protested, “Just because I’m a rookie doesn’t mean I’m immature.” Y/n leaned against the wall, still looking unimpressed. “Oh? Prove it then, Teeny Bopper. Show me how mature you are.”

Franco was determined to show her that he wasn’t just some naïve rookie. He took a step closer to her, his heart pounding. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden confidence. “Alright, I’m listening. Go ahead and impress me, rug rat.” Franco took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He was suddenly keenly aware of how close they were standing to each other. He could smell her perfume, a soft, musky scent that made his head spin.

He looked into her eyes, unflinching. “I’ll prove it by showing you that I’m serious about this. I’m not just some kid who doesn’t know what he wants. I know what I want, and it’s you.” Y/n’s expression softened just a bit. She was impressed by his directness, but still unconvinced. “You’re young, Franco. You don’t know what you want. You just think you do.”

Franco took another step closer to her. “I may be young, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m done with being treated like a kid. I know what I want, and I’m not going to give up until I get it.” Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his words, but she tried to maintain her cool facade. “You’re not going to give up, huh? You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

Franco smirked, feeling a rush of confidence. “I can be when I want something. And I want you.”

He took another step forward, closing the gap between them. He was now standing so close to her that he could feel the heat of her body. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. But she held her ground, refusing to let him see how her resolve was starting to crumble.

“You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, kidz bop,” she teased, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice just before she walked away from him. Franco watched her walk away, a mix of frustration and determination coursing through his veins. He knew he had gotten to her this time, he had seen the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

He wasn’t going to give up, not until he had proven to her that he was serious. He was in love with her, and he wasn’t going to let her brush him off like some naive rookie.

Once again Franco found himself watching and observing y/n and this time was brought out of his thoughts by a large hand clapping him on the shoulder “You good there Franco?” Charles asked. Franco looked over at him and then back at y/n whose eyebrows were bunched up together and her lips in a thin tight line.

“Yeah I’m good,” Franco answered, looking down at his feet. Charles chuckled at Franco’s obvious lie. He followed Franco’s gaze to y/n, his smirk growing even more as he looked at her. “You have it bad don’t you?” Charles teased. Franco quickly shoved Charles’s arm off him as he gave him a nasty glare.

Charles cackled in response. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. How long are you gonna sit on your ass and not do something?” Charles said.

“There’s a reason why I haven’t,” Franco said, still stubbornly keeping his eyes on y/n.

“Which is?” Charles prompted.

“She’s too old for me,” Franco said. Charles’s jaw dropped.

“Bullshit! She’s what, 26? You’re 21! It’s not that big of an age difference, "he said.

“She thinks it is,” Franco said. Charles shook his head in disbelief at Franco’s stupidity.

“Goddamnit Franco. You’re a pretty handsome kid, why are you letting her have that much control over you? If you feel something for her then do something about it” Charles said.

Franco tore his eyes from y/n to look at Charles “There is something between us. But every time I try to talk to her about it, she shuts it down. Says that she’s too old for me and would rather I find someone my age” he confessed. Charles let out a scoff “She doesn’t mean it. She’s just running away because she doesn’t want to admit her feelings for you” he said.

Franco shook his head. “You don’t know that and besides she’s mean to me and she calls me kidz bop, teeny bopper, or rug rat.”

Charles rolled his eyes “Franco I’ve known y/n for much longer than you being mean to someone is her love language trust me the meaner she is to someone the more she cares for them. She calls me a pretty boy. She calls Fernando an old man. I've seen the way she looks at you. There’s no way she feels nothing.” Franco’s heart skipped a beat at Charles’s words.

“W-what do you mean ‘the way she looks at me’” he asked.

Charles smirked again “I mean you’re constantly in her line of sight whenever you’re in a room. Anytime she’s near you, she always seems to be hyper-aware of it. I don’t think she’s as immune to your charms as she makes herself seem.”

As much as Franco wanted to believe what Charles was telling him it was too hard. He’s seen the way y/n talks to the other drivers. They weren’t like that.

“I get that your old ass has much more relationship experience than I do. But you just don’t understand” Franco muttered, refusing to look at Charles. Charles shook his head at Franco “You’re a lot denser than I thought you were. If you’re gonna waste your opportunity with her then that’s your problem, not mine” he said before he sauntered off, leaving Franco by himself.

Franco stood there, his mind reeling from Charles's words. He couldn't shake the feeling that Charles was right about y/n. That she had feelings for him beneath all her harsh words and belittling nicknames. But he couldn't be sure.

Franco looked over to where y/n was still standing, her expression still tight and cold. He tried to muster up the courage to approach her again, but he couldn’t find the words. He was too overwhelmed by the possibility that she could feel something for him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever rejection came his way. Franco began to slowly make his way toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. With each step, he felt as though he was walking through mud, his legs refusing to cooperate.

Finally, he stood in front of her, his eyes locked on hers. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice much softer than he had intended.

She looked up at him, her eyes flickering with an unreadable expression. For a moment, he thought she was going to brush him off like she had so many times before.

“Fine. What do you want?” she asked, her voice as icy as ever. Franco swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. He had practiced all the things he wanted to say in his head, but now that he was standing in front of her, all of his words seemed to have vanished.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just wanted to talk to you about us." "I know we're colleagues, but there's something more there, isn't there?" he said, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

She paused for a moment, her expression faltering for just a split second before her walls went back up. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked, feigning indifference. Franco took a small step forward, closing the space between them. He could feel the heat radiating off of her body, making him heady with desire.

"The way you look at me. The way you always watch me. I know you feel it too. You're just too scared to admit it." Her breath caught in her throat as he neared. She tried to pretend that his words did not affect her, but he could see the subtle change in her breathing, the way her body seemed to gravitate towards him.

"Scared? I'm not scared of anything, least of all you," she retorted, hoping he didn't notice the waver in her voice. "Then prove it," he said, his voice suddenly low and intense. He was so close to her now that he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pulse fluttered in her neck.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against the softness of her skin. Her breath hitched at his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. She fought the urge to lean into his touch, to finally give in to the overwhelming amount of tension that hung in the air between them. But she forced herself to take a step back, pulling herself out of his reach. "I don't have anything to prove to you," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Franco couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that shot through him as she pulled away. He knew he was getting under her skin, but she was still fighting him.

But he had a card he hadn't played yet.

“Then why is this so hard?” he asked, his tone soft and gentle. “If we're just colleagues, then it should be easy for you to turn me down. Right?”

Inwardly, she was cursing his stubbornness. But he was right, and she was losing the battle with herself. She had been trying so hard to keep her feelings locked away, to deny the attraction that was growing hotter and hotter each day.

She tried to come up with a witty retort, but her throat was dry, and her mind was fuzzy. The way he was looking at her, the way he was so sure of himself, it was chipping away at her defenses. He took another step closer, closing the gap between them again. “Come on, admit it. This isn’t just some one-sided thing. You feel it too.”

She could feel his breath on her skin, the heat of his body so close to hers. She thought about denying it, pushing him away once more, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she did the one thing she had promised herself she wouldn’t do.

She melted.

It was as if all the tension and resistance she had built up just disappeared. She found herself leaning into him, her body drawn to his like a magnet.

She looked up at him, her eyes betraying the vulnerability and desire that she had tried so hard to hide. "Franco..." she whispered. The sound of his name on her lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He could see the change in her eyes, the way they darkened with emotion.

He moved closer to her, his arms closing around her waist, pulling her against him. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from her ear. "Say it. Say you want me." The heat of his body against hers combined with the huskiness of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, her body molding itself to his.

She took a shaky breath, her voice wavering. "I want you, Franco. Damn it, I want you." A rush of satisfaction and relief washed over him as he heard her words. He’d finally broken through her defenses, and now he had her exactly where he wanted her.

He pulled her even closer, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of her back.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that," he murmured against her neck. She let out a soft gasp as he touched her skin, her body arching into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair.

She had tried to deny it for so long, but now that she had finally given in, it was like an unstoppable force of nature. All she wanted was to be closer to him, to feel him completely. He claimed her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, his body pressing her against the wall. His hands roamed over her skin, exploring every curve and contour of her body. It felt like a dam had broken, and all the pent-up desire that had been building between them was suddenly unleashed.

She returned his kiss with equal fervor, her tongue tangling with his. She ran her hands along his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt.

She wanted more, so much more. She was drowning in the sensation of him, losing herself in the heat and the passion of their embrace. Franco pressed himself against her, trapping her between the wall and his body. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin.

He could feel her coming undone, her body growing more and more pliant against his. He could tell that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and it was driving him insane. She let out a desperate gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. She couldn't think straight, her mind fuzzy with desire. The only thing that existed at that moment was the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his skin, and the way his hands sent sparks of pleasure dancing over her skin.

He continued to explore her body, his hands drifting down her sides, his fingertips tracing the edge of her waistband. He dipped his head lower, his lips trailing along her collarbone, then down her chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin. She whimpered and shivered beneath his touch, her body becoming a raw nerve of sensation. Her hips rocked against his, seeking more contact, more friction. She felt like she was on fire, burning up from the inside out.

He could feel her body reacting to his every touch, the way her hips moved against his, the way her hands clutched at his hair, pulling him closer. He could hear the soft gasps and moans escaping her lips, the sound sending a flood of heat straight to his core.

He pulled away just long enough to look at her, his eyes dark and intense.

“God, I love it when you make those sounds,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The desire in his gaze, the rough rasp of his voice, it was too much for her. She reached up and pulled him back down to her, her lips crashing against his in a fierce kiss.

Her body was overwhelmed by the intensity of her desire for him, the need for him almost unbearable. He met her kiss with urgency, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her completely. He pressed himself against her, his body fitting perfectly against hers.

He let his hands slide down to her thighs, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his waist, pinning her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him, her body flush against his. She could feel every muscle, every contour, every inch of him. She couldn't get enough, she wanted to be even closer.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him tight against her, her tongue exploring his mouth with feverish desperation. He pressed himself harder against her, his body desperate to get even closer to hers. He let his hands slide up to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to mark her as his. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him, her body arching into his touch. A soft moan escaped her lips as he licked and sucked at her skin, his stubble sending sparks of pleasure dancing across her nerve endings. He found a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear, and he lingered there, his lips and tongue working her into a frenzy. He could feel her responding to his touch, her body trembling against his, moans and gasps escaping from her lips.

He nipped and sucked at her skin, leaving a trail of red marks down her neck and collarbone. She was completely undone, her mind consumed with nothing but him and the pleasure he was causing her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body writhing against his.

Each flick of his tongue and each press of his lips sent shockwaves of ecstasy through her body, stoking the fire that burned within her. He pulled back slightly, taking in the sight of her - flushed and breathless, completely at his mercy. He wanted to claim her completely, to make her his in every way possible.

He lowered her down just a little bit, his body still pressed close to hers, and he looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and hungry. She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. Her hair was tousled, and her shirt wrinkled where his hands had been. She looked wrecked already and they'd barely even started.

She met his gaze, her own just as hungry and intense. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and nothing was going to stop them now.

[worriedvision]

Ajaw ruins his relationship with you - Kinich

Gender neutral reader, angst. No happy ending here, borderline crack BC Ajaw is a cracky character let's be honest. Ajaws a little shit here

--

Kinich had, somehow, caught your eye enough for you to successfully land a date with him. One date becomes two, and the third one ends in you inviting him over for a drink. He accepts, and before you know it your home becomes a place for him to call home as well. While Kinich wasn't very emotive, he seemed to smile just a bit around you.

However, the couple affections you would expect from him in a relationship weren't coming. Nothing like kissing or hugging, and for a while you think it's because Kinich was not a touchy person. You also knew he was very busy with his work, which was why the first few times he left and told you not to wait for him you didn't think much. At the time, in fact, you were more attracted to him because he was honest with you.

"Don't wait up." He blankly states, every morning he leaves. If you're lucky, he comes back at night time only to sleep - he doesn't make himself any food or drink from your home.

You got suspicious of him when you were hanging out with Mualani, and she brought up the fact someone called Ajaw wouldn't stop nagging at Kinich. When you ask who Ajaw was, rather if this was his boss, Mualani laughs.

"Ajaw probably thinks so, but they bickering too often to do any work together." Mualani tuts. "Do you never hear Ajaw? That voice is so... Annoying to hear!"

"No...I've never met this Ajaw." You hum out, Mualani gasping.

"Tell me your tricks!"

--

Once you get home from your interaction with your friend, you've had enough time to think. After some long thinking, you come to a decision. You move the stuff that's Kinich's, leaving them by the front door, and add temporary locks in addition to the one your key locks until you can change the lock.

To your surprise, Kinich sounds surprised when he notices his bags out. You refuse to open the door, having more than enough time to waste as you had a day off, and Kinich defeatedly picks up his few belongings before leaving.

--

"Hah! You should see your face!" Ajaw jeers, Mualani and Kinich groaning out at Ajaws harsh words. "Good thing _ wisened up and realised they can do a lot better than some mortal being that can't even get himself a group of companions!"

"Because you always ruin things." Mualani sighs.

"Hey, I can't take credit for this one! I never even once spoke around _!" Ajaw shrugs, putting some sunglasses on.

"I was hoping to finally get to spend some time with them. I've finally got enough cover for a few days." Kinich states, seeming to realise what Ajaw did. "...Mualani, you know how annoying Ajaw is. Do you know if -"

"Oddly enough no! Honestly, I'm jealous. Ajaw doesn't know when to shut up."

"...It seems they do." Kinich massages his temples, Mualani making eye contact with him.

"...Do you think they were suspicious you were seeing Ajaw? Yuck!"

"Hey, I can hear you, ya know?!"

"It makes sense though. They don't know Ajaw isn't even human, and also isn't mortal."

"Hahaha! Oh boy, even I didn't think keeping my mouth shut around your potential love interests would give this benefit!" Ajaw cackles, seeing Kinich's hand flying towards him. "Hey, what are - AHH!"

--

You keep getting asked if Kinich is single, each time you saying he wasn't seeing you anymore before they seem excited to pursue a taken man. It's quite concerning, really, you think theres little dignity in being the other person in the relationship.

Kinich tried to talk to you, but each time you saw him you'd make an excuse for being too busy before hearing some weird child cackling and screaming in retaliation to someone reacting to them. As much as his hurt expression spoke to you, you still knew in your mind that Kinich was in a relationship.

Even if he wasn't, you would know in your mind that you were the second choice.

[court-jobi]

Reheat

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (support-hero!reader x teacher Izuku)

Words: 2.5k

Rating: G~

Warnings: comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, work stress (livin' vicariously), talks of the future, a few fem pronouns used, but generally gender-neutral

Summary:

Izuku letting himself into your home after a long day has become comfortable background noise, and one you love to hear while you're bogged down. Work has been following you home all week. He's proud of you, without a doubt... But equally concerned when he sees your dinner half-eaten, your mind scatterbrained and racing faster than he can anchor you, and your angel eyes in desperate need of some TLC. He's cemented his place in your heart- and sees no reason he can't make himself at home here already.

A/N: do I have bigger fics in mind? Yes. Did I write this instead of sleeping bc I love soft, encouraging Deku? Also yes. Izuku Midoriya is a motivational speaker.

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“Hey honey! I’m here!”

Over the tinny, background chatter of a podcast streaming from your phone, you call back to Izuku letting himself in.

“Hey you~” You throw interest into your voice, but still stayed tuned into your work.

“Ooo what’s this… What did you make here on the stove?”

“Risotto– it’s Italian~ has lots of veggies and good stuff in it,” you didn’t stop your typing pace, engrossed too heavily in getting an email out before you forget about it and Gmail has to ‘nudge’ you, again, “-gave it a Japanese spin with what I had in the house.”

“Oh wow– oh my gosh, honey– this is so good!”

You look up since your darling man has just appeared in your doorway, sparkly eyed to see you, but equally sated by what’s just graced his mouth. It was a meal you could babysit between taking a quick shower, getting ready for work, letting its flavors marry in the fridge throughout the day, and popping back on the stove that night.

“I’m glad, happy you like it~”

“D’you eat?” Izuku asks, midbite.

“Mhm. Little bit ago,” You motion to your bowl- but when he comes alongside you, he tuts over noting it's only half empty.

“You didn't finish- you feelin’ ok?”

Having circled back onto your screen, you double take again, this time caught by his perception check over you and feeling guilty. 

“Oh. Guess I didn't. I’ll nuke it up here in a bit.”

Izuku, setting down his bowl and starting the -normally alluring- task of rolling up his shirt sleeves to his forearms, comes to your side. However since you’re paying little mind to your peripherals, you missed the show the was making of it. A simple ask of ‘what’re you working on’ came from him, sounding no different than if he wasn't trying to make eyes at you; fact was, you just weren't paying attention.

“Just some stuff for the interns,” the sight of how many tabs are open on your split screen -and in your mind- make you sigh, “With this new role, I kinda feel like you some days. Lesson plans, processing their paperwork; it’s all the stuff you had to turn in as an intern– only now I'm the one dealing with it on the backend.”

Izuku sifted around though your training materials and your propped tablet making itself useful as a second screen. At your handwritten to-do list that’s one of the only things non-digitized nowadays, he makes an offhand comment that your handwriting is nice. It's the kind of cute, ‘blink-and-you’d-miss-it’ things he says that you just hum to, whether you were really listening or not.  

When you glance up to him again, you see he’s watching you with a caring gaze and feel caught.

 “What’re you looking at?” you tease, typing again to break the silence.

“A pretty girl…” Izuku teased lightly, “who doesn’t know when to take a break.”

You type away at his call out– the need for a night off at Izuku’s side is exactly why you've been working so hard at this. You figured you'd get some of this extra prep work under control now, so by the time he rolls around on Wednesday for your standing date n–

You freeze. 

Realizing what day it is in your planner.  It's Wednesday. For dinner.

“Oh my God- -you’re here.”

“Mhmmm~” Izuku really doesn't want to laugh, but his sucking in of a lip isn't hiding it well. 

“ohmygod imtheworst!!” you refresh your face in both hands, talking through the gaps.

“You are not!” Izuku chuckled, setting your notes down. “You just got busy with all the new tasks, because you’re just that good.” 

A faithful, scarred hand comes over to smooth over your back, pulling you over into a little half hug. You sink against him, relishing in his little forehead kiss. He can try all he likes to cure your embarrassment, but you look to him apologetically.

“I’ve never forgotten our dinner dates, ‘Zuku…”

Your darling shrugged unbothered, “Had to happen sometime. It’s no big deal.”

“Is to me,” you pressed- very much bothered.

“Honey,” Izuku chips your chin up, “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s ok, these things happen! I mean, you still made a delicious dinner; even if it was a bit of an oversight I would -in fact- be eating it.”

The pang of guilt hits you at forgetting. This was just a symptomatic sign that the brilliance of your taking on the additional role of Education Coordinator at the agency was perhaps an over-zealous one. Not only to be on-call for your base job as a linguistics quirk specialist, but to balance another full time role on the office hours end? Why did you convince Fatgum this was a good idea? It sounded like a stellar idea back at the beginning of the summer…

Now you’re forgetting not just who you’re supposed to be eating with- but also eating in general.

“I’m glad you did,” you boost Izuku’s elephant-like memory, “It feels so normal to have you here, it's not like I completely forgot I’d see you today. I just– maybe I… thought I was gonna take some to you, since I wouldn't see you till later in the week? I dunno.”

“C’mere- never got a real hug.” 

You rise at his hand’s insistence, and stretch up into his full, healing embrace. 

“Hi baby,” you cooed pitifully.

“Hi, my angel. Missed you today.”

You hummed at the affection, sinking into his neck more out of your residual misery.

Izuku simply took advantage of you being close to sway you in his wide stance- a dance, sans music.

“I appreciate you cooking so much for us,” he spoke gently from his perch over your shoulder, “I was looking forward to it all day, y’know? You’re always so thoughtful with everything you make.”

He’s pressing into you with compliments- against your hard wiring to accept…

“‘Zuku.”

“It’s true~ you’re generous! You remember what my favorites are, and leave out the stuff I don’t like; you even send me leftovers. And you make snacks and treats for when the midnight munchies strike– what can’t you do?”

“Zuku…”

“And you–” he runs a hand through your hair as he sways your shy self back and forth, “-- make for the most funny, beautiful, fascinating, most inspiring company I could ever hope to share a meal with.”

Head thunking onto his shoulder, you playfully land a closed fist on his chest with a muffled, whiny plea for him to stop.

He sighs, all in good humor.

“This streak of yours... I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? Still can’t imagine how bad it must be in that brilliant mind that my incredible girlfriend has such a hard time accepting the tiniest compliment. Maybe it’s all that late night American comedy you watch...”

You exhale then fix him with your coolest look of sarcasm, anything to show that you have a modicum of having your shit together. So you cope with humor- who doesn't?

–shame that it looks too much like a pout and makes you decidedly not threatening at all, because Izuku just beams brightly at you in response.

“Oh! Now there’s my melty princess- I was wondering where she went.”

And at that, the aloofness was gone, and you snort into a laugh and hug him tighter around the neck. He even scoops you up and gives you one little twirl for good measure. 

When he set you down, Izuku cups your face in his hands and gifts you a few more forehead kisses before demanding your sights. 

“Now. We need to get you to finish eating first. Then, what can I do to help you tonight, hm? How can I make things easier for you?”

With a softer eye to your desk’s work, you sat back down staying connected to your ever doting Izuku by way of your hand in his. You tried again to focus back. You're newly refreshed by his affections and attempt for a more positive outlook, 

“Well, my goal of doing this tonight was so that I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow. Course, if I do run myself ragged tonight, I won't be any good to anyone there– or for you, here. But I think if I pare it down to just getting these e-sigs ready and getting their time-in checklists set up for their work study onboarding, that would give me a good enough start, and I can fill in the rest of their packets tomorrow. But that means I’d need -ugh- maybe… another hour of work tonight?” you looked to him for his approval, “I have a template, so it shouldn’t take me forever.”

“Alright! You’re the boss,” Izuku supported your plan with a smile, “How about I take care of the kitchen for you while you finish up?”

“You do not have to clean my kitchen!” you spouted back, offended– causing a laugh to burst from him, “It’s not funny! I didn’t ask you to come over after a day of work yourself to just slave away at my mess.”

Izuku fixed you a look, as if you knew better. 

“I think I can tidy up a kitchen, no matter how busy of a day I’ve had. Yours isn't even over yet- so when precisely were you going to have the energy to hammer at it? You’ll enjoy not having that mountain waiting for you.”

You huffed, but smiled gratefully all the same. 

“Besides, it’s just me- doing something nice for the woman I love; and I happen to like doing nice things for you. You deserve a clean space, hun.” 

He cleared off your previous bowl to reheat along with your empty water cup. Shaking the hollow straw inside to where it clinks, he knows exactly what you need and tells you so.

“You are getting a screenless break first, though. Something tells me you didn’t the first time around~”

Settled with a fist propping up your face, you swooned over this darling man. 

Trusting Autosave to have done its job, you shut the laptop down blindly, “Sure didn’t~” 

Izuku just rolled his eyes and stepped out of the study. 

You neaten up the collated stack of applications laid out by you and stepped over to the couch, taking a kneeling perch on the end while you sought out a new record for the player on the side table. Setting one on, it was able to fire up and fill some new life into the room with a movie score you haven’t listened to in a while. Everything just sounds better on vinyl.

When Izuku came back in the room, he’d found his houseshoes and returned with renewed interest to your music choice- and with a pleased expression seeing you actually lounging and taking things easier than how he found you. He traded your reheated meal in exchange for your blue-light glasses, which he’d then clean with a pocket square and set back on your desk once they were smudgeless.

“Now, that’s a better sight~ here you go, all set for later.”

You enjoyed Izuku’s company while finishing dinner, listening to him outline his workday while he cradled your legs in his lap. He'd had a pleasantly eventful one, with plenty to say about it. You’d play ‘two truths and a lie’ sometimes when he didn’t want to bore you with a particularly mind-numbing schedule, which pleased you just as well. You excelled at it, while he gave away his fictions every time- a terrible liar for the game, but great for a faithful partner, you reasoned.  You truly loved hearing him talk and talk, your love only growing at the domesticity of this feeling and never wanting that to change. 

Once you were done, you were honestly content to hear him continue his tangent, but it seems his inner discipline was stronger than yours. 

“Alright, now to attack that sink~”

You bemoaned again for his sake. But since you made such a small, affected noise, Izuku paused mid-rise, and sat back down a bit closer to you. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch, encouraging you to come closer and met you for a sweet kiss in the middle.

His mere presence reverted you to a younger self sometimes– one desperate for his attention, good or bad. It wasn't the loveliest impulse, but he clearly thinks it's all part of your charm seeing as he gives in every time, anyway.

“Thing is,” Izuku spoke softly while adoring the hand now placed in his, “If things keep going the way I think they’re going -the way I hope they’re going- it’s.. not hard to imagine that there’s gonna be both our dishes to clean up all the time. In our kitchen, in our home someday. So this is just practice, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. How it should be.”

That idea bloomed in your chest, the thought of sharing a home with him- where this exchange of chores and time together could be your new normal. Only it would be a future where he didn’t have to leave at the end of the night and go back to a bed with compact, collegiate-designed storage at the campus accommodations he stays in on the instructor's wing. He’s got enough to get him by, but he noticeably prefers your home here closer to downtown.

“And what happens when we both wanna ditch the dishes?” you countered sweetly.

Izuku smirked, “That’s what a dishwasher is for. Another thing we’d own together…”

“Forward thinking, there.” You relished that idea. 

Izuku nuzzled your forehead thoughtfully. 

“You’ve been doing things on your own for a long time– and it shows, sweetheart.”

His words came carefully, from a tender place spoken in confidence between you, referring to when you’ve spent other late nights like this one fueled with hot tea and a desire to keep ignoring the clock.

“And I know you’ve been used to that since you’ve been traveling so much, not even having roommates to help keep you company or lighten the load. I keep wishing I could have known you sooner, had more time with you before you had to learn some of those things the hard way… but I’m happy I get the chance to, now. I’m here now, and you’re not alone, so I hope you’ll let me take care of you when I can.”

With another happy sigh forcing your eyes shut, the mental will it took to not let the tears of a perpetual eldest daughter leave you was intense.

Izuku Midoriya never failed to hit the nail on the head when it came to pep talks; he does the same with his students. But why his ones aimed at you had to have a Full Cowling dash of heartfelt anecdotes in it, you don't know. But you're grateful. You're so grateful for him. 

“If you don’t quit talkin’ like that, Izuku, I will never let you leave this condo.”

He chuckled again, lifting your cheek for another kiss, “Twist my arm, love.”

Ultimately, he rose to quit distracting you, but not without you watching him leave with a hunger you’d never felt for another soul before. 

[verstappentime]

i posted about this before, but let me (as a journalist irl) elaborate what's likely going on with daniel!!

when no one asked dan about his future during press day last week, we all automatically recognized this was probably the result of an embargo (we have quite a few f1 fans in the newsroom). stranger still that christian horner was in the TP conference and didn't speak on it either. we had expected that combo to make a sort of joint announcement.

so what's an embargo/how does it work?

essentially, it's when a source gives you any information ahead of time, but requests you do not publish anything on it until a certain date and time. this can be done for a lot of reasons. embargoes usually request that you refrain from sharing information from a press release or document.

usually embargoes are put in place so essentially you keep to your time table of when the information becomes "public," but news outlets aren't left scrambling because they have already written their story and have it ready to go live as soon as it's acceptable. in the case of f1 this also applies to instagram posts and things like that. that's why you'll often see the posts go live straight away when an announcement is made; everything's pre-confirmed & pre-written, they're just waiting for the green light.

if you violate an embargo in sports journalism, you'll likely have your credentials to, say, get into the press pen revoked. you/your outlet will no longer receive any privileged information. and you'll likely be asked to take it down. not for any legal reason -- you're just burning a bridge and violating trust. so this info COULD be leaked, but under the honor system, it rarely is. (especially bc if you post embargoed info & ruin your org's reputation with the source, you're probably losing your job.)

so what's going on in DR's case?

most likely, all credible sources have either A) been given the information under an embargo, or B) been told the time they can expect an embargoed press release. (i work with law enforcement, so for me this is usually just something like "you can expect the records to be sent out before dinner time friday night but it will be embargoed till 9 a.m. when they're officially public record.")

either way, everyone has probably been warned off asking those questions, but they also likely already know the answer. whatever they received, even if it doesn't reveal all the cards, most likely said daniel would not answer questions prior to the official release time and essentially, don't bother.

what's up with all the rumors?

essentially, when every credible source has their hands tied, there's no one to counter all the randoms. we see it all the time -- people yapping trading theories when we actually know what happened and can't say. unfortunately in f1 some of the randoms have some sort of name recognition -- and for some reason there are like 500 completely not credible news outlets full of untrue shit. so right now, they are the only people 1) free to bang on with theories and 2) who dont either have the info or know when the info is coming available. so that's allowing them to take up all the space.

conclusion: this isn't necessarily good or bad, but explains why we're hearing so many irrelevant people's opinions on this and not hearing anything from VCARB, daniel or his team. it was most likely done to give preferred sources the jump on announcing the news, but also to allow daniel to focus.

i'm assuming the embargo will be lifted monday morning european time, but we may hear a vague denial this weekend as theres probably some building frustration (like daniel saying yeah you'll see me in COTA or whatever).

[kentopedia]

i hope my blog feels like a welcoming space to everyone that stumbles upon it <3 i know i'm a bit bad at getting to interactions, but i don't want anyone to feel lonely here or feel like they don't belong :(

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 20 ... WITH BENEFITS??

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, y/n has daddy issues for the sake of the plot

NOTES | I have no idea why this update took me so long to post I'm so sorry 😭 I don't like making chapters like this too sad (don't worry there's still gonna be some angsty chapters) but I don't want the written stuff on its own bcs that feels too espresso depresso or wtv the phrase is so this is a bit of a longer chap than usual.. anyways if ever you feel bad for y/n, don't worry you're gonna feel worse

19:21, dinner the night before

Y/n shuffles in her seat.

Jaemin greets her with a smile, and though she offers one back, that sinking feeling in her stomach doesn't seem to settle.

Suddenly now that she finds herself face to face with her once best friend, no menus in hand since they'd already given their orders, no way to avoid conversation for just a couple seconds longer, Y/n finds herself at a loss for words.

What was anyone supposed to say in this situation?

Sure a thank you would be ideal, considering Jaemin had somehow managed the impossible, but the words escaped her. Like they rested at the tip of her tongue but she lacked the drive to speak them.

It's not that y/n wasn't grateful, no, she wouldn't be here if she wasn't, in fact she didn't know what it was, what confused her so deeply that she sat there silently. Her thumbs twiddling against one another, as she stared down at the table in front of her.

There was a nagging whisper in her mind, one that cast shadows over her once clear thoughts, leaving her in that haze of uncertainty that she recognised all too well. Recently it was all she could feel around the captain.

Something about this situation in particular makes her palms sweaty and the hairs stand on her neck, every glance at Jaemin feeling like a shadow of what had once been, a reminder of how it had all been lost.

Even just sitting opposite Jaemin isn't simple.

Not at all.

It's like sitting across from a mirror that once reflected shared laughter and secrets, now distorted by fractures of lost trust and unspoken words. She supposed that was the thing about mirrors and shattering. No matter how hard you tried to glue the pieces back together, it would never quite be the same.

Perhaps that's why y/n is lousy in her attempts, grateful to Jaemin but unbothered to express it. The thought that no matter how desperately she hoped, this couldn't be restored. That there was no point in pouring energy into a friendship that would never be resolved.

"So" it's undoubtedly jaemin who breaks the silence, a soft tone to his voice, not quite as gentle as the other night but still warm "are you feeling better? like really okay?"

For a moment she wonders whether she'll break at the sound of his voice like she always had. Would she go back to that point in life where it was so easy to lie, so easy to say she was okay, so easy to pretend, in front of everyone else but never in front of him.

"I'm fine, honestly." She lies.

There's a shy sheepish smile that creeps across her lips and slightly accents her words

Jaemin hasn't seen much of her positivity be directed his way, and seeing this ignites the little hope in him that they could move on from this, from everything.

"You didn't have to work on it without me you know, it was just as much my project as it was yours and you putting in all the effort isn't fair on you."

"You did most of the preliminary stuff anyways, and I really didn't want to ask you because of the other night" Jaemin finally admits, though not willingly, his words extracted more so by her sharp stare and the cold atmosphere.

"Right..." Her attempts at changing the subject, clearly in vain— he really needed to stop asking about the other night. Y/n wasn't sure how much h longer she could hold back the tears, the looming feeling of inadequacy as a guardian still strong. She should have been more careful.

She knows its her turn to speak, opening her mouth to do so.

But again, y/n struggles.

The words play hide and seek in her mind, leaving her to grasp at empty. The atmosphere grows heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Her mind races, a jumble of what to say, thoughts of how easy conversation once was, how effortless it had been, all such a stark contrast to now.

Jaemin watches, a mix of intrigue and concern in his eyes as she contemplates in front of him, quiet but with an expression that spoke volumes.

The silence between them seems to bite louder than any conversation they once held, each dish in front, a reminder of the bitter aftertaste of a friendship turned cold.

"It's just Minjun and I" she breathes out, voice shaky, and Jaemin realises that those nervous cues in her slumped posture and shaking hands had never changed "It's just been the two of us for a while" she whispered. "That's why I was so scared"

Jaemin's hand hovers uncertainly beneath the table, unsure if the gesture would be welcomed or misunderstood, caught in the delicate balance of care and concern.

Admittedly, Jaemin catches himself slightly intrigued, still confused what could have lead to her practically perfectly family turning into this.

But he knows better than to let his curiosity get the best of him.

He wants to stop her, tell her that whatever it is that causes her brows to knit together and her pretty eyes to gloss over isn't something she needs to force herself to talk about, but he doesn't know how.

For a moment he's kicking himself under the table— how had he ever let go of the person who meant so much to him?

Even now, knowing everything she had done, he couldnt help but question why hadn't he tried to get past it then?

At the sight of her downcast features suddenly everything that he once despised her for seemed so trivial.

Jaemin sees himself, a younger, less mature version that stands on the court, hair matted to his forehead from the rain, a ball long forgotten somewhere behind him, cold, betrayed, and so painfully alone. Those burning tear stained cheeks, the harsh whistles of wind, the bitter feeling of failure still clinging to his skin, he remembers it all.

But every feeling he recalls so well, so vividly, is so easily dismissed when her eyes shine with a painful tint, red from the piercing tears that she holds in them.

"My dad" she cuts him off, gaze now avoidant as he grabbed her cold hands in his, "he walked out on us not long after ...whatever hapenned between you and me. He never came back, didn't answer a single call, not even a text, no form of communication except the papers he sent in the mail so I could become Junnie's legal guardian."

I missed you, she wanted to say. I needed you she'd liked to add.

"That's why it's just the two of us now" she said instead, trying to find more words to stop the tears from flowing, like her words were the only thing that could hold them back.

Back then, Y/n remembers vividly the feeling of wanting to fall, to sink, to drown but still somehow keeping her head above the surface to hold on and stay strong for her younger brother. She wondered if Jaemin had been there, would it have been easier? Would she have let herself fall, would she have someone to give her a hand, to pick her back up again and hold her hand through it all? Would things have ended differently?

"I'm sorry" his words weren't new, they weren't special, they were the same as what everybody else would say but the fact that they came from him, Na Jaemin who now stood by her side with his arms wrapped around her, was enough to dissolve the feeling of emptiness.

08:25 present time

Y/n looks over at Minjun, still deep in slumber, smiling before she steps out of the room.

There's way too many toys sprawled out across the living room floor, a blanket she finds herself folding as she subconsciously begins to clean up. Her eyes land on the kitchen counter, wondering what to make for breakfast. She was never particularly good at cooking, but she'd been learning for her brothers sake.

When she gets to the black jacket resting over the couch, it hits her. She catches sight of her puffy eyes in the mirror, and a hand runs through her hair hurriedly.

"Why the fuck did I tell him all of that" she let's out a frustrated sigh, running her hands across her face, "I'm supposed to hate him" she reminds herself, though her tone isn't convincing in the slightest.

"You don't hate him though" Heeseung's voice comes out muffled, the toothbrush between his lips making it difficult to understand his words.

He had been the one to stay over last night, her friends still taking turns to accompany Minjun and her every night since he'd walked out of the apartment, a gesture that made her heart swell. Although up until now she was pretty certain he was still asleep. Clearly not.

"I can't hate him" she sighs, falling back into the couch "is it bad I want to be friends with him again?" she asks, even though Heeseung had retreated to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

Regardless he pokes his head out into the hallway, a sly smirk across his lips "with benefits?"

Y/n rolls her eyes.

He emerges again not long after, smiling from ear to ear "no y/n it's not bad if you want to be friends again" he takes a seat beside her "you can only fight your feelings for so long, let yourself be vulnerable, take the risk and try again" he says, hands resting on both his knees.

"and if you're feeling really risky, you can always—"

"shut up Heeseung" she smiles, lightly pushing against his arm "I guess it is worth a shot though"

"he's right next door anyways so sneaking around won't be hard at all"

"I meant being friends. Just friends." she stands up, walking over to the kitchen "you down for pancakes?"

He nods.

"You know it could be good though, he's hot, you're hot, there's enough tension to make things interesting and it ticks your not ready for a relationship box pretty well too"

Despite the pointed look the captain offers him, Heeseung doesn't let up, and secretly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

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[kimcheekies]

guess what? skz kinks bc.. duh

warnings: smut minors dni pls.. protect ur eyes from this profanity lol (master/slave, slapping, pet play, dom/sub, cnc, sex tapes and perversion, degrading, etc.)

welcome pookies to literally the first post on my blog lol i thought i had uploaded before but like apparently not anyways- i was thinking about skz and like how they've been wilding recently ever since they resigned their contracts and the recent concert vids of chan

so i present to you, from the horny recesses of my mind, the kinks i think skz would probs have ~ hyung line edition (yum.)

방찬 ~ bang chan ~ daddy kink (duh) and master/slave

he takes pride in being the dominant one in your relationship and more so in being the biggest you've ever had, sure he was sad when he realised you've had other dicks before- but never one as thick as his.

he basically throbs every time he hears the word 'daddy' from your pretty lips, loves it when you call him that even casually and how you're always so obedient to him

you're so attentive when it comes to chan, it makes him almost bust when he sees your shoulders relax and happy smile when you do something for him as if you need the approval and the encouragement from him

but when one time when you were feeling a little too submissive for your own good, you let him suspend your arms with his belt above your head while you knelt on the floor, your ankles shackled too so he could have at your body- but only when you begged him to, like a good little slave

"daddy, just let me suck it-" he slaps your face harder than he intended to but lashes you yet again on your scratched torso, spitting out harshly. "don't be so greedy, little slave.. you don't pleasure me as much as you think you do, you are nothing compared to me- your master."

이민호 ~ lee minho ~ pet play and ass worship

we all know how much he loves his cats and how we always call him a bunny so naturally that translates over to you too- his pretty kitten.. always ready to please him.

and he doesn't like to be too pda with you out in public or on camera while you have those occasional joint promotions, opting to just hold your hand or sit really close to you.

but his resolve lets up when you're at home and he sees the new costume you've bought for the upcoming halloween stage your group would be doing, he loses it.

"fucking hell, baby.." he whispers while downing his soju as you try on the costume for his opinion, eyes raking over the way the corset cinches in at your waist and how your ass is barely covered.

doesn't take long for you to be sucking his cock while he's at your ass, spreading your soft cheeks and licking at your warmth through the flimsy lace thigh-highs and his face stayed buried in your ass long after you orgasmed, fingers gripping at your cheeks and abusing the sensitive skin until his hands are permanently indented into it.

서창빈 - seo changbin ~ discipline and forced orgasms

you're usually so sweet to him, his perfect bunny.. you always jump into his arms and koala hug him until he can't breathe anything but you but lately? you've been a brat.

ignoring him purposefully when he calls for you so kindly, groaning when he asks you to do something- he's had enough.

so today when you come over to his dorm after rehearsals with your group, he immediately grabs you by your hair when you walk through the door, free hand clamping over your mouth as he drags you back to his bedroom and cuffs your wrists to the pull up bar suspended from his ceiling.

he strips you of your clothes, and secures a vibrator to your clit before just sitting at the chair on his work desk opposite you, stroking his dick shamelessly while you suffer.

"god, you're so fucking loud, shut up for once, bunny." he groans as he pushes you to the floor and has you suck him off, again and again until his releases leak out of your mouth, filled from your stomach all the way to your lips still wrapped around his cock.

황현진 ~ hwang hyunjin ~ objectification and sex tapes

this man is already obsessed with you- literally.

like despite being the most romantic one out of probs the whole group (maybe thats just bias tho lol), he's also the most in love with the complete existence of you.

he often stays up late at night just admiring you as you sleep, the way your pretty lips are pouted slightly and how your cheeks puff out- he just can't help but stroke himself to you.

that's when he began recording you; it started off as a cute thing where he'd shoot you doing mundane things like writing your lyrics then it spanned to videos of touching you when you're asleep or jerking himself off when you're not looking

those videos are his gospel - he watches them religiously, his art inspiration is them and he often paints portraits of you from them.

so when the opportunity came next of you just cooking dinner, he makes sure to set up the camera beforehand so there's a perfect angle to capture your tits under your chest- and of when he comes up behind you and bullies his cock into your ass, a new three hour sex tape for him to paint later on.

why do i want to write a perv hyunjin drabble now (pls request me to do it so i have a reason to write it)

[kat-aa]

unfortunately for us all, the 2016 d*emon ph*ngirl still lurks within me, and she needs to be fed, so welcome to:

Kat (kinda jokingly, kinda not) Reads Into Things That Don't Need To Be Read Into (instead of doing something potentially productive with her life, such as her homework)

anyway. fair-warning. the mental connections here are gonna be nebulous at best, completely unhinged at worst. and they're light-hearted so don't be mad im joking. but here's what we're analyzing today:

arguably the cutest clip of the video, but there's a few random moments here that make me feel insane bc either i'm reading into things or they know and are phucking with us.

circumstances: so obviously tons of husband/marriage references in their recent videos, including the cursed "hide your hand they might see it" "what? the lack of wedding ring?" moment, which inevitably, leads the mind in certain directions, especially when its related to dan and phil, the two sneakiest people in the word

exhibit a: the hand grab/slap

like ok, sure, you could argue phil is just exerting "im-on-tour-energy" previously seen in tour videos, and you're probably right but i can't help but jump at the fact that that's dan's left hand AND one could say, given the aforementioned circumstances, that he's miming slapping a ring on it. AND HE MAKES DIRECT EYE CONTACT WITH THE CAMERA WHILE HE DOES IT. which may seem like a stretch until we move on to-

exhibit b: "you thought you were getting my hand, i got yours bitch"

LIKE PLEASE I CAN'T BE THE ONLY ONE GETTING HUNG UP ON THE WORDING? like it just sounds like "getting/taking your hand in marriage" still think its a stretch? on to-

exhibit c: "that's how they do it in iceland"

yes, rationally, the last question they did was iceland related. but this is not the time, nor place, for rational thinking. and we know dan and phil lurk in places they don't belong (hey guys <3) so you can reasonably assume they know about the iceland wedding conspiracy thus,

the only natural conclusion is:

phil proposed to dan before dan could propose to phil (as such, resulting further in the support of exhibit b) along with the marginal importance of *gasp* -

exhibit d: "domination"

phil has asserted his dominance by proposing first :)

thanks for listening, tune in next week for further delusions sponsored by kat's procrastination <3

[sovonight]

a radri-sarevok swap au but also xan is there:

xan:

refused the moonblade

tried to join the greycloaks and failed

exiled from evereska until he gets his act together (aka accepts the moonblade)

hopped from one adventuring party to another, offering his services as a wizard, but few could stand his company for very long

after he joins radri, she validates his choice to refuse the moonblade & further convinces him that the fact that he's not allowed back into evereska just for that is total bullshit. he cuts ties with his house & devotes himself to her

radri:

gorion raised sarevok, not her. she was eventually taken in by the iron throne for her aptitude in combat, and rose to the point where rieltar anchev came to view her as the daughter he never had

constantly felt out of place her whole life, and instead of turning it inward made it everyone else's problem

cuts (hacks at) her hair herself and keeps it shoulder length at most, and frequently wears a hood to conceal her ears

encountered xan during her work for the iron throne and rescued him from unemployment. 5 years later they've become inseparable

xan/radri:

they each believe the other has had such an unfair life and deserves so much better. they believe this to the point of prioritizing each other over almost anyone else

radri's first memory was of sharing minds with her mother & knowing without a doubt that her mother planned to kill her. she's avoided other elves & elven customs/interactions, and it took her a long time to consider even sharing reverie with xan

despite knowing that shes a bhaalspawn, radri doesn't care about the bhaalspawn prophecy. her motivation for being a boss battle for sarevok is that he's ruined the iron throne (and thus her comfortable livelihood). when radri dies, xan is devastated and loses the will to fight back; he's spared by sarevok's party and is still kneeling beside radri's scattered remains as they leave

in tob, radri is resurrected because sarevok thinks she could be a powerful ally in combat (and not for being a font of bhaalspawn knowledge, bc she isn't really one). she eventually seeks out xan and they go on being cringe and borderline evil together in the epilogue

somehow they went from this:

X, muttered, in elvish: You smell like a human.

R: I know elvish, jerk.

X: And yet you do all you can to pretend you are human, save for cut down your ears. Have you no pride?

R: So that I can look better in the eyes of elves like you? Don't you have a city to hole up in and pretend you're better than everyone else?

to this:

R, about to escalate a random tavern insult into a fight: What did you say?! I'll murder you, you little--

X, grabbing her arm to hold her back: Radri!

X, quietly to her: You have plans in a half hour, and you know how it pains you to arrive late. Allow me to handle it.

R: ... (sigh) Fine, have them rip each other apart.

(R turns away, X casts the spell, and screams are heard as they leave)

[bitchfitch]

My mother's bf had a fairly major surgery (he's fine and recovering well DW) and he's going to be housebound for his birthday this year, so I've been enlisted to come up with a fancy birthday meal for the special birthday boy that's primarily fruit and veg, sweeter than savory, and is something he's never had before.

Bc I'm making watermelington. It's beef Wellington, but watermelon. bc my mom only found out recently you can use watermelon as a tuna substitute. And I know that you can substitute most higher quality beef cuts with tuna or salmon.... usually. Anyways the idea fascinates her so I'm hoping to use that for bonus points.

Now he's off his ass on pain killers so I can't like. Ask him if he's ever had something before. so to meet my brief I've decided to just. commit a novel hate crime against the British I guess.

Anyways. I'm writing this because I need to walk myself through this process and think it'll be surreal enough to be worth taking y'all along for.

So, Beef Wellington. In its most basic bitch arrangement is a beef tenderloin wrapped in prosciutto/really thin bacon, with a layer of mushroom and onion mush, that has been further wrapped in mustard slathered puff pastry.

We will be ship of Theseusing this. bc beef Wellington is like. the opposite of what he wants. Which is why it's funny.

Puff pastry-> it's still just puff pastry

this one doesn't have to change (aka I can't be fucked to do pastry prep and I'm just gonna use store bought it's Fine.)

the prosciutto is also just going to be prosciutto.

Thin meat

Beef tenderloin-> watermelon,

Tbh this is a pretty 1 to 1 substitution. I'll bake the slices at like. 250-300 for an hour or so ahead of the rest of prep to dry it out a bit. bc you can't like. Sear watermelon to seal in the water like you can beef. By definition it's a very wet fruit (like me when I fall into the lake). Ill Add salt and chili and lime juice while baking maybe. this is the easy part

The mushroom mush-> salsa done bad style

As the word mush implies, this is meant to be a very soft mix. It adds a lot of nuttiness to the wellington that rounds out all of the salt from the meats. I'm replacing it with white person salsa(the birthday boy can't handle spice). Tomato, lime juice, parsley, avocado, cucumber, feta, and maybe mango so I can have an excuse to have a lil mango treat. I said I wasn't making it spicy. I'm still putting a bit of chili in it. bc it'll be better like that. This is also a ridiculously wet bit of mush, Even the original mushrooms have too much water. I'll figure something out.

Mustard -> jelly

He lives in a big city. those preserve sections are massive. I'll find a weird one. maybe apricot.

Prep:

We're in the mind palace kitchen, I have not attempted any of this. We're just thinking real hard about it and I'll edit as needed on the day and post results.

The watermelon

Preheat oven to eh. 300f? We want low and slow to dry things out without it taking a year. but idk what his oven is like. If it's gentle I'll bump it up another ten-twenty.

Slather some watermelon slices in salt chili powder and lime juice mixture.

bake for 30 min on a wire rack or directly on the oven racks (after cleaning thoroughly) if he doesn't have a wire rack. with a drip try underneath to catch the drippage. check frequently. Have one slice that's for being poked to see if it's approaching being meat. Bake longer if needed.

Salsa bad style

chop everything up and add it to a pan with some oil in it. Tbh I don't think the type of oil you use for cooking matters if you're not like, getting near any smoke points. Most people can't tell the difference unless you made your food bland as hell.

Anyways there's some wildly different moisture contents on the list so there has to be an Order to cook off as much water as possible without getting yucky.

Tomatoes and cucumbers go in together with some salt to get the cucs softening, then the mango chunks and lime juice. Once most of the water is gone the avocado feta and parsley can go in. There is a good amount of water in avocados but they're delicate and don't pan fry well, so we're just going to ignore their water crimes and hope for the best. They just need to be evenly mixed through the rest of the mush.

Putting it together

lay out the puff pastry, cut into sections to wrap each watermelon slice individually with.

Slather in jam

Take the prosciutto and lay it out on half of each section of the pastry,

spoon the salsa onto that

Melon

Another layer of salsa

another layer of thin meat

Fold the pastry over the top and pinch the edges bc watermelon slices are not a rollable shape and I don't want to carve a watermelon into a tube for this because that sounds irritating.

Brush with egg wash and more parsley

Cook in oven following the pastry's preferred temp and time. it's fucking watermelon, you're not getting ecoli from it.

watermelington :)

I'm serving it with baked sweet potatoes and spinach based salad with whatever toppings are left over from making the salsa.

anyways thank you for joing me on this thought experiment. I will post updates once the deed is done. I'm sorry to every British person ever.

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 6

Authors Note: Finally got this chapter out...I hope y'all enjoy bc shit is about to get real as fuck. As always, please let me know your thoughts by commenting or sending me a message, I appreciate any and lal feedback.oh and don't forget, I LOVE Y'ALL <3

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : After battling with multiple special grade curses, y/n spends some time in the hospital so Shoko can run some tests to get to the bottom of the burning question: what was that cursed energy? With all of these thoughts swirling around y/n's head, she decides to discuss the incident with Gojo.

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment to let me know :)

Word Count : 5.5k

Warnings : mention of injuries, swearing, some tensions, mention of d*eath...

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The familiar scent of antiseptic filled your nose as you slowly blinked your eyes open. The soft whirring and sporadic beeping of machines and the gentle hum of the infirmary's lights gradually came into focus. It took a moment for you to remember where you were—Jujutsu High, the infirmary. You tried to sit up, but a deep ache in your muscles pulled you back down, reminding you of the battle just days before.

You had been unconscious for just over a day, but the soreness that clung to your body was a fading echo of what it had been. Shoko had healed most of your injuries, and while your body still felt heavy, you were no longer in a significant amount of pain.

A subtle shifting caught your attention, and you turned your head to see Gojo sitting at your bedside.

His long legs were stretched out lazily in front of him, his chair tipped back on two legs in that effortlessly casual way only he could pull off. A playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed you stirring.

He wore an off-white button-up shirt, simple and unassuming, and somehow looked better on him than it had any right to. The way it fit him—just snug enough at the shoulders, but loose enough to give him that carefree look to match his attitude.

And then there are those sunglasses, the ones that should be ridiculous indoors, yet on him, they work—like a signature mark of his unbothered confidence. Even with half of his face hidden behind those tinted lenses, you can still see his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted, his voice smooth and teasing, eyes glinting behind his sunglasses. "I was starting to think you'd be out for another day. But I guess you're a bit too stubborn for that, huh?"

You managed a weak laugh, the dryness in your throat making it raspy. Gojo tilted his head—as though studying your face.

"You know," he began, his grin widening, "even unconscious, you’re still causing me all kinds of trouble. What am I going to do with you?"

His teasing tone, paired with the playful glint in his eyes, pulled another laugh from you, this one a bit stronger, though your body still felt heavy. Gojo straightened, his chair landing back on all four legs with a soft thud, before he placed a familiar white pastry box on your lap.

"I brought you a cookie," he said, and as your eyes focused, you recognized the familiar logo from the last pastry box he had got you about a week ago.

“Hmmm, am I having deja vu?” You said teasingly, although your voice was weak.

Propping yourself up with a few pillows, you opened the box to reveal the single chocolate chip cookie—just like the one he'd given you before. "Thought you might want something sweet when you woke up."

His expression softened as he studied your face, his bright blue eyes watching you carefully.

You didn’t even try to stifle the grin that slowly crept onto your face. “You know, you’ve never even asked me if I like sweets.” You teased, a warm feeling growing in your chest.

Gojo rolled his eyes, “These sweets are too good not to like, y/n.” He argued in response, to which you gave him a stern look, and he sighed dramatically. “Fine. Do you like sweets?” He said reluctantly, and you smiled wider in response to his obvious annoyance.

“Yes, I do…they’re my favourite.” You said, picking up the cookie and taking a bite. “This is too good not to like…wow.” You said, covering your mouth, as it was still full with cookie.

Gojo laughed, “I am always right.” There was something different about the way he looked at you now—something gentler than before, more concerned.

You decided to finally ask the burning question, “Gojo, what… happened?”

His expression shifted, the playful mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the worry underneath. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his tosseled white hair as he sighed.

"You don't remember?" His tone was light, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “You and the students were fighting that special-grade curse, remember? You… well, things got a little out of hand.”

The memories started trickling back, one by one. The battlefield, the pressure of cursed energy crushing you from every side. You remembered fighting off duplicates of the curse—one after another—until something snapped. A rush of power unlike anything you'd ever felt before surged through you, dark and overwhelming. The blue energy you had trained so hard to control had been replaced by something else, something foreign and dark.

“Oh, yeah I remember now…Sorry, I’m a little dazed,” you whispered, the weight of the realization hitting you like a truck. “How were there that many special-grade curses there? I thought you said the mission was just one special grade?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you closely. The playful mask he usually wore was still there, but his eyes, ever sharp and knowing, held a depth that unsettled you. “That’s the thing,” he replied, his voice softer now. “It wasn’t just one special-grade curse, it was multiple—each one a fragment of something larger. They were working in sync.”

The pit in your stomach deepened. You could recall the feeling of being surrounded, the sheer number of cursed spirits far more than you had anticipated. It was no wonder you’d been overwhelmed. “Shoko said she found something strange when she was healing you.”

You frowned, shifting slightly in the bed. “Strange? Like what?”

He hesitated for a moment, his typical lighthearted attitude shifting to a more earnest demeanour. “There’s another cursed energy inside you. Different from the normal cursed energy you’ve been using.”

The weight of his words hit you hard, and you felt your heart start to race.

Another cursed energy? How was that possible? You looked at Gojo, searching for answers, but his expression gave little away. "What does that mean for me?" You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Gojo leaned back again, his eyes narrowing in thought. “We don’t know yet. That’s why Shoko's keeping an eye on you, and I…” He trailed off, his gaze lingering on you before looking up at the ceiling. “I’m going to be here every step of the way, whether you like it or not."

Before you could respond, the infirmary door slid open, and Shoko entered with her usual calm, unbothered air. She glanced between you and Gojo before speaking.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” she said with a small smile. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep through the whole week.”

You managed a faint grin as she approached your bed. Shoko pulled out her clipboard, her eyes scanning the notes she had taken while healing you. After a moment, she looked up and met your gaze, her expression turning serious.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice low. “When I was healing you, I noticed something unusual. Your cursed energy… it wasn’t just the blue-hued energy you usually produce.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Gojo had mentioned this already, but hearing it from Shoko felt different. More real.

“There’s another source of cursed energy inside you,” Shoko continued, her brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know how or why, and I can’t see anything on the tests I’ve done, but it’s there, and it’s separate from your own cursed energy. It’s… dark.”

You stared at her, stunned. Another source of power? But how? Why now?

“What does that mean?” You asked quietly, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest.

Shoko shook her head, her expression unreadable. “I’m not sure. And we don’t know how it got there, but its foreign. We’ll have to run some more tests to figure it out. But for now, you need to be careful. That power—whatever it is—could be dangerous if you don’t learn to control it.”

Gojo gave you a reassuring smile, though there was something sharp behind his usual cocky expression. “Don’t worry Shoko. You’ll figure it out. Plus, y/n has me as her teacher, after all. You know better than anything that I am the strongest.”

His words should have comforted you, or at least made you laugh—but the uncertainty gnawed at the back of your mind.

What the hell is wrong with me?

—

You stayed in the infirmary for a few more days while Shoko ran some tests. It was all routine at first, just performing tests on your cursed energy levels, helping you heal some of those stubborn wounds with her reverse cursed technique.

As the days passed and you grew more comfortable around Shoko, your conversations took on a lighter tone. You had expected her to be more distant, but she had a subtle, dry sense of humor that made you laugh, even in your exhausted state.

On the second evening, as Shoko finished up another round of tests, she pulled a chair up beside your bed, setting her clipboard down. “You’re healing well,” she said, her usual neutral tone softened. “We’ll have you out of here soon, hopefully.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks, Shoko. It’s been kind of nice getting to know you more.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m not that interesting.”

You chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that. You’ve got to have some stories, being friends with Gojo and all.”

Shoko leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Oh, Gojo? Yeah, there are plenty of stories, most of which are probably better off unsaid.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Come on, I’m stuck in bed here! Give me something. How was he back then?”

She sighed in mock reluctance before a small smile spread across her face. “Alright, alright. There was one time… Well, this was back when Gojo and—” Shoko hesitated for a second, her expression darkening slightly, but she quickly recovered. “—when Gojo and his best friend were still students here. His name was Geto Suguru.”

“Geto?” you repeated, unfamiliar with the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

Shoko’s eyes softened a little, and for a moment, there was a quiet sadness in them. “Yeah, you wouldn’t have. Suguru was… He and Gojo were like brothers. They used to be inseparable.”

You blinked, surprised. It was hard to imagine Gojo having a best friend—someone close enough to understand him on that level. “What happened to him?”

Shoko looked down for a moment, her voice becoming more sombre. “It’s… complicated. Let’s just say he took a different path. It’s not something Gojo talks about much, but they were close. Closer than anyone would think.”

There was a brief silence between the two of you, the weight of her words sinking in. You could feel the layers of history, the unspoken grief in Shoko’s tone, and it made you wonder just how much Gojo had buried beneath that playful exterior.

Shoko cleared her throat, shaking off the mood. “But, anyway. Gojo’s always been the same—cocky, infuriatingly powerful, and completely insufferable when he’s right. There was this one time he convinced Suguru and me to sneak into the teachers’ lounge at night because he wanted to prank Yaga. Nearly got us all expelled.”

You laughed softly, trying to picture a younger Gojo pulling off one of his infamous schemes. “I’m guessing it didn’t go as planned?”

“Not at all. Yaga caught us halfway through. Gojo had rigged this ridiculous trap to dump confetti on him when he opened the door, but instead, it went off on us. We were covered in glitter for days.” Shoko shook her head with an amused smile. “Suguru was so mad. I thought he was going to kill Gojo right then and there.”

You laughed at the image, imagining a flustered Gojo trying to explain himself with confetti raining down around him. It was hard to reconcile the carefree man you knew now with the version of him Shoko described—someone who had once had a deep bond with someone else, someone who had experienced loss.

“Do you think he misses him?” You asked quietly, the question escaping before you could stop yourself.

Shoko looked at you for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I think he does, in his own way. Gojo doesn’t like to talk about the things that hurt him. He hides behind that grin of his, but… yeah. I think he does.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of empathy for the man who had become such an enigmatic figure in your life. Maybe there was more to him than just the confident, teasing exterior. Maybe, beneath it all, Gojo carried his own burdens, just like the rest of them.

Shoko stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Alright, that’s enough reminiscing for now. You rest up, and if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll tell you more embarrassing Gojo stories tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said with a grin, feeling a bit lighter despite the heaviness of the conversation.

As Shoko left the room, you couldn’t help but think about the person Gojo used to be, and how much of that was still hidden beneath the surface.

—

Once you had recovered fully, you found yourself training harder than ever before, trying to tap into this newfound source of energy. Gojo, ever the confident mentor, pushed you to your limits, testing how far you could go before the black energy resurfaced.

At first, it was difficult—frustrating, even. The black energy was slippery, elusive, always just out of reach until it wasn’t. But with each passing day, you felt it more clearly, a flicker of something cold and sharp beneath your usual warmth of cursed energy.

Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara were a constant source of support for you, and they really didn’t need to be—but they wanted to help. Whether it was their own curiosity or the friendship you had developed over the past month, they stuck around.

Training with them made the days more bearable, and their playful banter helped ease the tension that weighed on your shoulders.

One afternoon, you found yourself sparring with Yuji while Nobara and Megumi sat on the sidelines, doing some homework for another class they had. Yuji, ever the ball of energy, was throwing everything he had into the match, but even he couldn’t help but crack jokes between strikes.

“C’mon, y/n, is that all you got?” he teased, dodging one of your kicks with ease.

You grinned despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Just wait. I’m holding back so I don’t embarrass you.”

“Like that’s possible, you were just unconscious for a day, y/n. Don’t get cocky!” Nobara sarcastically scoffed from the sidelines, earning a chuckle from Megumi, who was trying to hide his amusement.

The laughter and camaraderie between the four of you made the discovery of this dark energy less daunting, and the uncertainty less frightening. You felt supported—more than ever before. But even with all the training, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

‘How did I get here?’ You thought while grabbing some water during a short training break. It’s not like you could answer that question; you still have next to no memories of your life before this—before discovering jujutsu sorcery.

You had no clue what you were doing here, but you knew you had very little choice in being here, it was all you knew now. You just had to do your best.

The black energy inside you was growing stronger, more insistent. But you wanted answers now, living in a constant state of unknown was becoming unbearable.

—

In the days following, you recalled scenes from the battle with the special grade curses. One of the curse's words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Each time you tried to push it away, the memory clawed its way back, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

As you sat alone in your room, your hands idly tracing the bandages still wrapped around your torso, the curse’s voice echoed: "Do you feel it…It's almost time for you."

You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that came with those words. What had it meant? Why had it focused on you, singling you out with such terrifying precision?

Before being found by Gojo, I had never been around curses…right?

—

Later that evening, as the sun melted into the horizon, bathing the school grounds in an orange glow, you crossed paths with Gojo again. His usual carefree grin was firmly in place, but by now, you knew better—that smile often masked something deeper.

He stood leaning against one of the chainlink fences just outside the outdoor training grounds; his blindfold was nowhere to be seen and was replaced by a pair of dark grey rectangle-shaped shades.

It was after teaching hours, so Gojo wore his casual clothes: just an oversized black long-sleeved shirt—though it seems he had cut the neckline, as it exposed more of his collarbone than a normal shirt would, paired with some grey sweatpants.

For whatever reason, whether it be your newfound appreciation for life after nearly dying, you got a warm feeling in your chest (and between your legs) when you saw him. ‘Does he always look this good?’ You thought to yourself as you waltzed up to him, interrupting his concentration on whatever video he was watching on his phone.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice softer than usual. The fading light caught in his messy white hair, making it shimmer, and he turned his head towards you with a raised brow, his curiosity piqued.

“Hey there, walking all by yourself?” He teased, provoking you to roll your eyes with an amused smile. “Thought it was a better idea than walking with you.” You said, biting back at his quip. He let out a laugh and slid his phone into the pocket of his sweats.

“You think you’re funny now? Good lordd…What’s on your mind, y/n?” He asked, sensing the weight of your thoughts.

Despite your humorous banter, his expression shifted—he could tell you were troubled.

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to find the right words. “Well, I’ve been thinking…that one curse during the battle… it said something. You were there. It talked about it being ‘almost time for me.’” Your eyes searched his, which were barely covered by those sunglasses, needing to know if he had any answers. “What do you think that meant?”

For a moment, his smile faltered. Barely noticeable, but you caught it. He took a slow breath, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admitted, his tone more serious than usual. “Curses don’t talk just to talk, especially not special grades. I hate to say it, but they’re smart—they know things.” His eyes softened as they locked onto yours, his concern noticeable.

The cryptic warning from the curse still hung heavy in the air, and despite Gojo’s presence, the unease gnawed at you—it had been gnawing at you since you regained consciousness. You wanted to lean into Gojo’s usual lightheartedness, let it wash away the fear creeping up on you, but tonight, it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm brewing inside.

“Why me?” You muttered, mostly to yourself. “Why was it focused on me?” Despite your attempts to stifle your fear, you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking when you spoke.

His grin faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression as he sat down on a nearby bench. He leaned back slightly, hands still in his pockets, the playful mask he usually wore slipping just enough for you to see the worry beneath it. “Y/n,” he said softly, motioning for you to take a seat beside him, and you followed his motion.

“Curses sense things in people, sometimes for a reason, sometimes because they catch on to something we don’t even realize. But this… was definitely not random.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So what do you think it meant then…when it said it’s ‘almost time for me’?”

Gojo's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, and his blue eyes, usually so carefree, held something deeper now as they looked into yours—an intensity that made your breath hitch. He leaned back on the bench, tilting his head toward the darkening sky, as if searching the sky for the right thing to say.

The orange glow of the setting sun illuminated the chiselled features of his face, and you couldn’t stop your thoughts, ‘God, he looks good.’ It was that moment, waiting for Gojo’s reply, when you realized how close the two of you really were, your legs practically touching as you sat beside each other.

“I wish I knew,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter than usual, almost…gentle. "But what I do know is that curses don't just say things for no reason. Especially not special grades like that. Something’s up."

You sat down beside him, feeling the space between you shrink, though neither of you touched. The warmth from his body seemed to seep into the small gap, but there was an undercurrent of tension, something unspoken yet real in the air between you. His presence was normally a comfort, but tonight, it felt different. Almost charged.

He turned his head slightly, and his eyes met yours again—but this time his gaze was steady, unwavering. “Whatever it saw in you,” he continued, his tone low and serious, “you really don’t need to worry about it—you shouldn’t worry about it at least.”

Your pulse quickened at the way he said it, so casual yet laced with empathy and care. But you were unsatisfied with his answer.

Did he actually just say that to me after I almost died?

“You’re really telling me not to worry!?” You said, feeling the emotions in you start to bubble up within you. “Not to worry? Really Satoru?! I have next to no memories of my life, I suddenly woke up in a forest, surrounded by creepy-ass-curses, and nowww you jujutsu-people want me to fight them!” Your voice raised subconsciously as your emotions continued to rise up in you.

“Not to mention I almost died last week, and while I was in the middle of ‘almost-dying,’ a special grade curse practically threatened me—me personally! And you are sitting here telling me not to fucking worry?!” By then end of this you were practically out of breathfrom the volume of your voice.

“And you know what-” Before you could continue, you were cut off. “I don’t like it when you say it like that.” He said barely above a whisper, his voice sounding almost…sad? You could feel his eyes wandered between yours, searching and darting back and forth. “What the hell are you talking about?” You snapped, still frustrated and heated from your rant.

“My name,” he said softly, his eyes not shifting from yous. “I don’t like it when you said my name in such an angry voice.” Immediately, your frustration was gone, and your expression resembled that of a dear in headlights.

“Satoru?” You said, your head tilting to the side a bit, reflecting the confusion you felt.

“Yes, when you’ve said it before, you said it so nicely, so softly, it sounded so good hearing my name come from you.”

His words hung in the air between you, soft yet cutting, and your heart stuttered at the unexpected vulnerability in them.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out, his confession leaving you at a loss for words. It was a side of Gojo you had never seen—one that wasn't hidden behind his usual cocky smirk or casual confidence.

The air around you seemed to shift, thickening with a tension you couldn't quite place. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as the weight of his gaze held yours, his eyes searching your face, as if trying to find something in you that you weren’t even sure you could give.

“I…” You faltered, your earlier anger dissipating into confusion, but something else lingered beneath the surface—something deeper. Your pulse quickened again, not from frustration but from the strange sensation creeping up your spine.

Gojo’s eyes softened, and though he hadn’t moved closer, the space between you felt significantly smaller. “I get it, y/n. I know all of this is… a lot for you, for anyone.” He said quietly, practically mumbling. “I know things are uncertain and terrifying, but you’re not in this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice cut through the storm of thoughts in your head, leaving you feeling exposed—raw.

You wanted to stay angry, wanted to hold on to that frustration because it was easier than the vulnerability you felt creeping in.

But with the way he was looking at you now—steady, unwavering, almost tender—you felt something inside you waver. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t break the eye contact the two of you held; it was like some external force was interfereing.

Gojo’s expression shifted, the usual teasing smile nowhere in sight. His hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently resting just above your knee. His touch was warm, grounding, and that warm tingly feeling began to creep back in.

“I’m telling you not to worry because, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly, and the blatant seriousness in his voice sent a shiver through you.

There was something unstated in the way he said it, something more than just a promise of protection. It was intimate, a layer of meaning underneath his words that you weren’t sure you were ready to acknowledge.

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you realized how close he was now, his hand still resting gently on your thigh, his eyes locked on yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming in a way that wasn’t just comforting—it was something else entirely. Something that made your pulse race for a reason.

“Satoru…” you whispered, his name falling from your lips—softly this time, as it did naturally.

His expression stayed mostly unchanged, but you could’ve sworn his eyes widened, just a fraction, in response.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you thick and palpable. You could feel it—the unspoken pull—the way your heart ached.

The way his gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before flicking back up to your eyes, made a heat begin to pool between your legs.

The air around you was charged, and your mind drifted to how easy it would be to just close that distance, to let whatever this was finally spill over and consume you.

Gojo’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your lower thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. His voice was low, almost a whisper when he spoke again, and oh boy you were not prepared for what words left his lips next. “Say my name like that again,” he murmured, “Please, y/n.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, the only thing that mattered was the space between you and him, and the feeling that, if you took just one step closer, everything would change.

"Satoru, I…" Your voice was breathless, almost as if saying his name had taken something from you, pulling you closer to a line neither of you dared to cross.

But just when it felt like you were teetering on that line, your nerves took over. “Thanks for your help,” you blurted, your legs shifting away form him, breaking the contact between his hand and your skin. The moment, electric and intimate, cooled almost instantly.

Gojo blinked a few times, his hand falling to his side, the intensity of the moment fading as you harshly forced the distance back between you. “I’ll try not to worry, like you said…” You continued awkwardly.

He exhaled softly, and that smartass smile returned to his pretty face once again. "Right… You never have to worry when you’re around me. I’m the best the jujutsu world has to offer." He teased, his voice returning to its usual casualness.

You stood up, looking down at him as you stood in front if him. “Well, I’m gonna get going, Shoko says I should still be resting when I can.” You said, gesturing to the directions of the dorms, and Gojo just nodded in response, leaning back against the bench again, his arms spread over the length of it, his eyes looking up at you—and you were standing so pretty in front of him.

“Goodnight, Satoru.” You said with knowing smile, your gaze lingering for a bit too long befor eturning around and walking back towards the school.

—

The room was thick with tension as the leaders of Jujutsu society sat around the large oak table, their expressions grim. The clan leaders, flanked by stern-faced assistants, wore the air of authority and tradition, while Principal Gakuganji sat at the head, his face as cold and unyielding as ever. The atmosphere was stifling, the weight of the conversation about to unfold already heavy in the air.

Yaga stood off to the side, arms crossed, his face betraying his frustration. Utahime sat beside him, her brow furrowed, glancing between the higher-ups with a mixture of disbelief and quiet anger.

"Principal Gakuganji," the leader of the Kamo clan spoke first, his voice even and measured. "It has come to our attention that there are certain… disturbing developments regarding y/n y/l/n."

The leader of the Zen’in clan, Naobito, gave a snort, his arms resting lazily across his chest. “Disturbing is an understatement.”

Gakuganji leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Explain."

The Kamo clan leader continued, casting a disapproving glance toward Yaga and Utahime. "It appears that a certain conversation between two first-year students at the Tokyo school—Itadori and Kugisaki—was overheard. They were discussing a special-grade curse y/n encountered during a recent mission." He paused, letting the implication settle before continuing. "The curse in question reportedly said something about it being 'almost time' for her."

Naobito’s eyes gleamed with a predatory smirk. “A fucking ticking time bomb. That’s what she is.”

Utahime tensed beside Yaga, fists clenching under the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but Yaga beat her to it. "This is ridiculous," Yaga snapped, his voice firm but controlled. "You're basing this entire accusation on what? Something a curse said during battle? That's not enough to—"

"It’s more than enough," Naobito interrupted, his voice sharp, dismissive. “Special grade curses don’t make empty threats. They know what they’re sensing. If a curse says something is 'almost time' for her, that means she’s a threat.”

“She’s already unleashed an unknown cursed energy,” the Kamo clan leader added. "A power even Gojo Satoru hasn’t been able to fully identify or control. Not that he is even trying. That in itself is dangerous enough. She’s unpredictable. Unstable."

Gakuganji’s fingers stilled, his gaze shifting toward Yaga. “And from what we’ve seen… she could be harboring a greater threat. We cannot allow an unknown force like this to develop under our noses. We must act before it becomes too late.”

“Act?” Utahime’s voice rose, incredulous. “You’re going to condemn her for something she hasn’t even done yet? For something none of you fully understand? This is insane!”

Gakuganji’s steely gaze flickered toward Utahime, his expression unreadable. "This is not a decision taken lightly. We understand the complexity of the situation. But the safety of the Jujutsu world cannot be compromised by unknowns."

“She’s an unknown that Gojo Satoru himself is monitoring!” Yaga countered, his voice rising. “Do you really think he would put the entire school at risk for someone he didn’t trust? He’s been training her personally.”

Naobito’s lip curled in a sneer. “And yet, even Gojo can’t seem to keep her under control. And he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about the threat either, that jack-ass…”

The third clan leader finally spoke up. His tone was measured, but there was no mistaking the finality in his words. “She is too much of a risk. An unknown factor in an already unstable world. We cannot afford to wait and see what this cursed energy inside her might become.”

Yaga took a step forward, hands slamming down on the table. "You're talking about a student! A human being! Not some weapon you can discard when it suits you."

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat.

“For the safety of all sorcerers and the entire country, y/n y/l/n is to be executed by the end of the week.”

[hatsukeii]

hiii mootie congrats on the 900!!!

would love to play the guitar ^^,,, i'm thinking a first aid ear mic and a wound-kiss guitar pic.

A little birdie's told me that Denji's my biggest fan <3 (Don't tell the birdie I'm his biggest fan though bc it's a snitch)

("Did it take u this long to come up with something" Shhh shh shhhh... let's focus on u reaching 900 followers 😋🫶🏽 again CONGRATS !!!! u deserve them all mootie ur writing is so yummy ily and your creations)

oooo sick!! the band you've joined is...

kiss it right! / denji x reader

genre(s): fluff + crack!! reader is nonchalant + tired of his bs, denji not so much (he's so annoying your honour i love him i fear...) injury, kiss it better fic! giggles! blushing! kicking my feet like a teenage girl!!

warning(s): injury so blood and pain ig, heavy on the needles because reader is giving him sutures, also ik denji is a bit of a pussy which is a bit ooc but he's supposed to be super weakened after a fight so it makes a little more sense that he's really sensitive to pain here

wc: ~1.1k

your first gig is in... an ambulance?!

setlist:

🎵 someday, the strokes

🎵 calling after me, wallows

🎵 kiss her you fool, kids that fly

"Quit squirming so much, I'm not done yet!"

Denji hates stitches. You know it by the way he wriggles and tenses up with every contact the needle makes with his skin, and how he just refuses to stay still the second he sees the thread of dread. Frustrated, you smack the front of Denji's knee, a signal for him to stay still, but you hit a nerve and his leg jerks up reflexively instead, his shoe coming dangerously close to your chin. You drop the needle and thread in your hand at his sudden movement, and a groan sounds from your throat.

"Shit. Didn’t mean to do that, sorry Denji."

Denji sulks, bottom lip jutting out in an annoyed pout. Everything rattles and shakes as the ambulance rolls past a speed bump, and he almost wishes he was the one unconscious on the stretch instead of Aki. He watches you yank at the end of a spool of thread, and loop it through the head of a new needle. Your tongue pokes out from your pursed lips, holding the needle impossibly close to your face as your pinched fingers jab and poke at it. Your brows furrow in concentration, leading the thread through and tying it in place. When you reach over to grab another alcohol swab, Denji shrugs inwards again, and you take notice of his shift in posture when you turn back to see his legs crossed.

"Denji..."

"Sorry, you know I hate needles." The sole of his sooty sneaker lies on the bloody gash on his shin, and you wipe a film of sweat off your forehead with the back of your forearm.

"You'll give yourself sepsis like that."

"I dunno what that is." He mumbles, head hanging low to watch blood pool out from the torn flesh of his leg. Sepsis. That sounds bad, but not as bad as watching a needle sink into his skin, and come out on the other side.

"C'mon, you trust me, right? I make it better, every time." Denji knows you're right, so he nods, hugging his legs against his chest instead.

"Put the bad leg back down, and let me fix you up, okay?"

The ambulance makes another jolt when he lowers his leg over the edge of the seat. Cold, stinging cotton wipes at the blood that has dried around the gash, and Denji has to grip the seat until his knuckles go white to stop himself from whining. When he sees the needle reappear in your hands, he keeps reminding himself that this could, very well, all be worth the pain in the end. If he's lucky.

You slather numbing cream on the swollen flesh around his gash, before pulling the thread taut in preparation, and aligning the tip of the needle with the bottom of the wound.

"I'm trying to set a personal record, so stay still."

"What's your current record?"

"Minute and a half." You don't look up from the gash when you respond to him, not even as Denji whistles, impressed. You breathe in, eyes darting to the digital clock on the dashboard of the ambulance, and slide the needle through one side of the gash. Denji's leg tenses in his efforts to stay impossibly still, even as the thread runs back and forth through his skin over, and over, and over again. Your eyes squint, face inching closer to his bare shin as you pull the thread tight, and the split flesh comes together with ease. You look at the digital clock again, fingers twisting and tugging quickly to tie off the suture.

"Close, minute and thirty-three. Maybe next time."

When you chuck the needle out into a medical wastebin and look up, Denji is staring down at you, a grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes as you rip the latex gloves off your clammy hands, sighing out in exasperation. He wiggles his eyebrows, pointing at the stitches on his shin.

"Don't even try."

"But I swear it works!" Denji beams like a puppy seeing its owner for the first time in years. You stand and turn away, pulling the elastic from your hair and letting it fall freely. It covers your red ears, and that's good enough.

"I'm not giving a fresh suture a kiss, Denji."

"You say that every time! I'm sure you've seen worse, right?"

He's right, you have seen worse, but that is the extent of it. Kissing a fresh wound is, quite literally, the textbook definition of immature. And unhygienic. You turn back to look at Denji, who is still pointing at his shin expectantly, and is still pleading with that stupid look on his face. He looks a little too excited for somebody who's just had his leg stitched back together.

"I guess you were good enough today."

Kneeling down again, you meet the sutures on his leg, dried blood gathering around the surface of the thread. You sigh, reaching behind for another alcohol swab, and wipe over the wound once, twice, then a third time. Denji kicks his feet merrily, but stops when his shoe almost hits you in the nose, and you send a piercing glare towards him. Holding his calf with both hands, you bring his shin towards your face, the warm breaths from your nose fanning over his skin.

When you finally, for the first time, press a kiss into Denji's wound, he giggles like a schoolgirl, and you feel a wave of heat rush from your ears to your cheeks.

"If I see you pick the sutures out again like last time, you're never getting another one, you hear me?" You pull the mask that has been sitting on your chin up to your nose, pinching it tight against your nose bridge. The mask conceals half of your face, and Denji sniffs in annoyance when he loses sight of your lips. What neither of you notice is the elastic of the mask pushing your hair behind your ears, and exposing the hot pink tips of them.

"It'll heal twice as quickly now, thanks to that."

"That's not how it works, but sure. Whatever keeps you happy, Denji."

The ambulance comes to a sudden stop, and everything inside jolts forward. You sling Denji's arm around your shoulder, holding him up as he limps off the vehicle and towards the hospital entrance. The wound barely feels like anything. In fact, he could probably walk like normal.

Someday, maybe Denji won't have to ask you to kiss his wounds better. Someday, Denji might even get a kiss without having to get hurt. But for now, Denji thinks that he'll keep pretending that the stitches hurt, so long as it gets you to kiss him.

author's note:

I am acc so ASS at writing full fluff scenarios bc tell me why this was only 1.1k words... I HOPE YOU LIKED IT THO POOKIE!!! i made sure to make denji extra whiny and extra annoying just for u <3 i love him your honour even though he's a little bitch sometimes he's my baby

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @staraxiaa @catsoupki @akaakeis @anqelfries @wishi-selfships @fiannee @bailey-reeds @kuroppiii @wyrcan @hiraethwa @stars-tonight

anyways love u guys bye bye see u soon…

[shiphappen-s]

Ok so like brace yourself bc I haven't read the brick and I'm playing fast and loose w canon here but you know that line in Bring Him Home where Valjean is looking at Marius and is like "he's like the son I might have known, if God had granted me a son"

What if Marius and Cosette swapped places. Marius was always a sensitive boy and he always had his quirks and such (personally I HC him as autistic / on the spectrum but like again fully fanon/musical based pls don't come for me). And where those more vulnerable sides of him would have been mostly squashed under the care of his grandfather, valjean nurtures them. And Marius just looks at valjean like he hung the stars in the sky, he's everything Marius wants to be when he grows up. A man who can protect himself and his family while still being kind and generous and sometimes nervous just like he always is. This guts Valjean because he feels so unworthy of this love and innocent childlike devotion. Marius should want to be so much more than a convict on the run from the law, which actually results in him telling Marius about his past early on in an effort to quell this thing but only ends up making Marius love and respect him more lol. Anyway I'm getting off topic

Cosette who was never taken from the Thenardiers, who grew up hungry and cold and right next to Eponine. They had a vicious rivalry until their early teens but once Eponine stopped getting daughter privileges and started getting punished the same if not more than cosette they formed a quick alliance. Eventually they became thick as thieves, often dreaming about the day that Fantine would come for her child and cosette would convince her to take them both out of this hell. Eponine is eventually the one to find out what happened to Fantine. Learning that her mother died alone and cold and abused because of the thenardiers simultaneously broke and forged something in Cosettes soul. Eponine became more and more bitter about life and the world but Cosette could not watch idle as the thenardiers continued to ruin people's life. She starts stealing from them and distributing it to the poor, purposely botching their jobs under the guise of being clumsy/stupid, subtly taking their attention so that Eponine or gavroche could nick food or medicine or whatever they needed. This eventually puts her on the path to bump into the Les amis and she quickly joins them and rises in the ranks. Her and Enjolras, though from completely opposite upbringings, are a United front when it comes to ideals. She is merged into the inner circle and becomes close with all of the boys, becoming a mix of big sister and little sister to all the students in attendance. Grantaire gets on her nerves a bit but he's so similar to Eponine that she can't stay mad at him. Especially bc he's never cruel and she can see his point most of the time, it's just annoying to be interrupted all the time lol

Cosette would fall immediately for the shy well read rich boy who spends his days giving to the poor and helping the needy as best he can. Marius would fall instantly for the girl with fire in her eyes and bruises on her knuckles who speaks passionately about equality and freedom for all.

(There would also be no love triangle with Eponine here bc she's had her eyes on the good looking intellectual man who serves as the right hand of Enjolras. He helped her in a tight spot once and he didn't flinch at her state or even ask for any kind of repayment. She doesn't know his name yet as she hasn't crossed paths with her sisters group all that often but the people in that group sometimes call him the guide. She usually keeps her cards close to her chest on this kind of stuff but she's planning on tagging along to the next meeting of his so she can see this man in his element and determine if his kindness was a fluke or not)

[nekohime19]

Neko Shadowpeach Au Guide!

I have so many Shadowpeach Au I can't even 😭

This post is mainly for me to organize myself bc I'm beginning to have a lot of ideas for Au, and a lot of Au in general and I need to write that somewhere or I'm gonna get lost.

But also it's to let you guys know about future Au I would probably write and see if you like them.

Of course if you guys have any questions about any of my Au's, even the unpublished one, feel free to ask.

alright here we go :

Published

Monkeys silly love life :

Summary : Macaque never met the great sage, nor the brotherhood, he simply lived like a hermit until his lantern was stolen by a thrall. He finds himself coming to Megapolis in search of his lantern, there he meets MK, his friends and one particularly insistent golden-furred monkey who seems keen on flirting with him despite the Lady Bone Demon taking over the world.

Fic : series of three fic on Ao3

Who said you can't flirt in an apocalypse?

Monkeys discovering the wide world of dating.

I know the world is ending but will you marry me?

Status : all fics completed

Vibe : fluff and humor

Heart behind the lie :

Summary : Sun Wukong's mind is severely damaged by the Lady Bone Demon's possession, leading him to act like a beast. Macaque being the only person he trusts in this state, he is designated as his babysitter. Macaque refuses at first but then finds himself needing magic to survive and decides to accept being a babysitter to better steal Sun Wukong's magic. He might became more attached than he planned for.

Fic : fic on Ao3 + being published on Tumblr with two chapters a day

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : emotional angst, feels and fluff

Publishing day : At least once a week

Mini Mac :

Summary : One day Sun Wukong discovers that a little black-furred monkey had been living in the walls of his stone mansion and decides to befriend him. Problem is, the little black-furred beauty is not keen on deepening his relationship with him, thus the sage has to gain his trust first.

Fic : one fic on Tumblr and Ao3

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff, humor and very light angst

Publishing day : Two to three chapters a week

Bimawen :

Summary : What if Heaven actually gave weight to the title of Bimawen and treated Sun Wukong with respect, even if reluctant? Sun Wukong would have never gone on a rampage and quietly taken care of the horses. Years after Sun Wukong has taken his horsley duties Heaven found another celestial monkey, the Six-eared Macaque causing mayhem in the mortal world. The macaque is judged and if he wants to avoid his execution, he has to become the bimawen's assistant. The problem is the monkeys don't really like each other.

Fic : one on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff, humor and feels / JTTW oriented

Publishing day : Once to twice a month (often more bc I'm inspired)

Share my glow (co-writing with Pen-Women)

Summary : Macaque never met Wukong in his life. He is known as the Shadow Weaver, a mysterious entity who guides the one lost in the night. His lantern is the last artifact LBD needs to complete her mech and take over the world. When his forest is frozen by the Thrall he has no choice but to follow a troublesome team of heroes with a particularly flirty Monkey King.

Fic : one in Ao3

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff and angst / ABO

Publishing day : Once a week (every Sunday)

Unpublished

So here is are my ideas for different Au's! Of course, bc those are still ideas in working, summaries might change a lil bit when I actually write them. Idk if I'll write them all though. They're classed from the one I want to write the most after I'm finished with Heart behind the lie and Mini Mac to ideas in passing.

1) Love Addicts :

Summary : Macaque and Sun Wukong find themselves feeling miserable after season 5. MK lost his powers when he jumped in the pillar, and both monkeys can't help but feel guilty. Sun Wukong then stumbles upon an odd door in his treasure trove and discovers the existence of a bar selling love potions. Despite hating each other, both monkeys decides to drink one potion to recover some sort of happiness, letting themselves be in love for one week. They take another one after the end of this first week and soon become addicted to the taste of love, even if this love is fake.

Fic : will be on Ao3 (debating if I'm gonna add it to Tumblr)

Status : unwritten / I'm planning this one after Heart behind the lie

Vibe : angst, fluff and feel, smut

Die-Hard fan :

Summary : Sun Wukong took the throne of the Jade Emperor after the attack on Heavens orchestrated by the brotherhood. While at first were glad to be free of Heaven's corruption they soon began to fear the whims of their new ruler. Sun Wukong is a beast of pleasure who does nothing but indulges his needs, either in food or treasures, and kills those who doesn't agree with him. One day, he stumbles upon the most famous entertainer of the mortal world, the Six-eared Macaque, and became a die-hard fan. Now determined to be someone Macaque would like, Sun Wukong has to change all his ways and learns to be a good King.

Fic : will be on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : unwritten / Planning this after Mini Mac

Vibe : fluff and humor

Monkey Cop Mania :

Summary : Both monkeys find themselves being transported to a movie-like dimension in which Sun Wukong is the insanely famous Monkey Cop and Macaque a world-wide known thief accused of murder. If they want to get back to their own dimension, they have to solve a murder and finish the movie's scenario. Problem is neither mystic monkeys turn out to be great detectives.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten

Vibe : Humor and feels

Once upon a monkey

Summary : various long one shots of shadowpeach being in different fairy tales.

How to bewitch the witch : Wukong is the prince of the Sun Kingdom and falls in love with the cruel sea witch, Macaque, while said witch was destroying his wedding with the mermaid prince, Azure. Once Azure returns to his kingdom and their wedding falls void, Wukong does everything in his power to court Macaque. Turns out, courting a sea witch is quite difficult.

The strongest of them all : Macaque is a magic mirror with the ability to hear past, present and future terribly in love with his owner, the King Sun Wukong. One day Sun Wukong learns that he's not the strongest anymore, but that he's step-son, MK, is. Macaque, after listening to the future, fears for his King and tries to better the relationship between MK and Wukong.

Fighting Beauty : Macaque is prince Sun Wukong personal guard, in charge of guarding him until his betrothed comes to rescue him from the sleeping spell casted upon him. Things get awkward when Macaque awakens Sun Wukong on his first night on duty. Sun Wukong, impatient as ever, decides to slay the dragon himself and not wait on his betrothed, Macaque is dragged in the quest despite himself.

Midnight Illusion : Macaque is at day the mistreated step-son of the Lady Bone Demon, and at night the leader of the most fearsome thieves of the Sun Kingdom. He's unfortunately caught by the royal guard in the middle of a thievery. He's given two choices by the Sun King himself : either spend the rest of his life in prison, or spy on his own step-mother while also pretending to be the Sun King betrothed. Naturally, he chose the second option.

The Mage and the Monkey : Sun Wukong is cursed by the wandering mage, Macaque, after refusing to give him shelter on a stormy night. He's now the Monkey King, and he'll stay in this beastly form as long as he cannot find true love, according to the Mage, at least. But Sun Wukong is not one to stay idle, he finds the Mage huts after a lot of searching, and bugs him everyday to undo the curse. Macaque is tempted to accept, only because Sun Wukong is getting annoying.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten / rough ideas really

Vibe : Humor and fluff and angst

Narcissist :

Summary : Sun Wukong was lonely. He felt like there was a wedge between him and the world, that no-one could ever understand him. Even his successor couldn't hope to breach his shell. Pushed by his loneliness, Wukong stole a forbidden book from the gods with the vilest spells written in it and bring his shadow to life.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten / very rough idea

Vibe : angst, fluff and horror (Mac being an eldritch horror)

I'll add Au's to this guide if I have any more that I think of, but that's all for now.

[reyreadersblog]

ALRIGHT Y'ALL MADE ME DO IT!!!

My unpopular tig/tgg opinions!!

FIRST!

These are MY opinions and i'm allowed to have my own thoughts on certian things, just as you are, okay..? Just wanna..get this out of way, i know everyone is respectful in this fandombut still.

1. this is something that should NOT be an upopular opinion. AVERY IS THE MAIN CHARACTER FOR A REASON. okay? She is a girlboss, and she needs more appretiation, cus literally search up tig on tt rn. Everybody and their cat named Stewie is talking about Grayson and Jameson? WHAT ABOUT MY MG AVERY? And if you see any post about her, it's probably a hate vid about how Avery should've kept the money...SHUT UP. Read what she said carefully..."no one deserves that kind of power.." and then think about it deeply.

2. I DO NOT WANT TIG TO TURN INTO A TV SERIES (or even a movie). i can't name all the reasons 'cus then the the list would be endless. First of all, i know, I JUST KNOW, they'll choose the worst cast ever. And even if they find the most accurate cast for the Hawthorne brother i will still be dissapointed, because the images of them i have in my head...THEY'LL NEVER TOP EM. second of all, they will leave out important moments, just as simple as it sounds, and trust me they will, just like they do with most of the live adaptations of books. Third of all, SHIP WARS!!! I phisically can't with ship war, like I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF EM IN THE PAST WHEN THE BOOKS WERE STILL COMING OUT. And just the thought of Averygrayson shipper saying "yeah Avery and jameson were endgame in the books but they might change it in the movie..." GIVES ME NIGHTMARES. and overall, not everything needs a live adaptation yk? sometimes things just have to stay the way they are.

3. ...this is a bit contrevertial.and i don't want to sound like a hater since i've said this a multiple times before but Rohan's pov was my least favourite in the grandest games. Purely bcs whatever Savannah and Rohan had going on...don't get me wrong, i like Savannah (even tho she did and said some fucked up things) and Rohan, SEPERATLY. But them being together...idk man, they were too..."booktokish" for my liking, yk? and i do love banter and teasing, but they were like basic "i like you but i like winning more" "couple". Not to mention they were so random...like where did they come from? I remember when we first saw Sav and Rohan having the same symbols on their cards i was very excited, i expected a different dynamic between them...PLUS THE WHOLE GAME THEY JUST WANTED TO FUCK💀

4. Hating Alisa Ortega and loving Grayson Hawthorne is CRAZYYY, and i'm saying this bcs they're pretty similar in different ways. And the thing is people are mad at Alisa for "saying mean words to Libby" (she was literally doing her job, you would understand if you were at her place) MEANWHILE GRAYSON LITERALLY THREATENED A HEIRESS! (sayin this as a Gray stan) *sigh* y'all are something else🤦🏻‍♀️.

5. Ohh...this one is risky...BUT CAN Y'ALL STOP ACTING LIKE JAMESON IS BLAMELESS?? all i see is Grayson slander, AND I UNDERSTAND, he fucked up, but saying "Jameson was so much better than Grayson" is a lie, at least for me. (He was better for Avery tho) he fs made mistakes that fandoms chooses to ignore. Like lets not act like treating Avery like a toy wasn't wrong. Lets not act like him blaming Grayson for everything wasn't wrong. Let's not act like him reminding Grayson of Emily's death wasn't wrong. And i know that later on both him and Grayson had a great character development, but still, i've never seen anyone talk about this.

6. This isn't about tig. But LIKING JLBS WORK AND BEING HER FAN DOESN'T MEAN YOU'RE GLAZING HER💀 (talking about an argument i had a while ago...) like is it so hard for your brain to understand that it's called having an opinion. Idc if it's JLB or any other author, okay? Like i've read almost every Jlb's books and i love them, AND i also publicly talk about how much iblove her work, does that mean i'm glazing her? UHM NO WTF💀.

7. LET. PEOPLE. HAVE. PREFRENCE. (I'm talking about ships btw) . Someone prefers LyraGray over Averyjameson, and that's okay. Someone loves Averyjameson the most, and that's also okay, someone likes Libbynash more then Xandermax, AND THAT IS ALSO OKAY.

I'll probably do part 2, i have more to say i'm just really tired rn.

Also it's not proof read so sorry if there are many mistakes.