#can you tell I studied these tropes in college? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satowooo · 1 year ago

Text

I said "I love you."

you say nothing back

Falling in love with Gojo Satoru was as easy as reading the pages of your favorite book, not until you reached the very end of the chapter and the author just loves to twist the story.

contents: it was all a bet trope, angst lol, fluff, hurt!gojo, groveling, satoru gojo x fem!reader, college AU, playboy!gojo, comfort

credits to @/toOOfu for the art above!! ^^

***

September 1, 2023

"She looks like an easy target," Satoru chuckled as he watched you walk over to your friend, Utahime Iori, in the school cafeteria. It was one of those days when he would joke with Suguru and Shoko, with Suguru always making sure Satoru gets riled up by his joke.

Suguru simply told Satoru that girls may swoon over him, but he's sure that they're some others who probably would find him annoying, someone like you. That statement made Satoru cocky, and as prideful as he was, he made it into a bet that he'll make sure to make you fall in love with him by the end of December, enough time to swoon you over.

"We'll see about that, Satoru." Suguru smirked. "The end of December, you say?"

The latter nodded his head, a wide and annoying grin on his face. "Watch and you'll see, Suguru."

The catch? Nothing, just plain fun and feeding his ego.

"Satoru!" Oh, and here comes one of his girls. His flings.

September 2, 2023

Satoru wastes no time. The next day after making their bet, he quickly made advances towards you. After seeing you in the lockers first thing in the morning, he walked over and leaned to the locker right next to yours. And when you turned, you found him there with a smirk on his face.

"Hey, darling..." He said, almost seductively, if not only for the furrowed eyebrows in your face.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Your soft voice echoed in his head.

Now that hurts his ego. Satoru Gojo. Gojo Satoru. The handsome Satoru. The greatest. The flirt. The smartest. The playboy. The Gojo Satoru. The damn Gojo Satoru who you didn't even know who.

His mind was floating elsewhere after hearing your question. As unbelievable as it may sound, you were, unfortunately, serious about not knowing him. And guessing by the look in your face, he definitely was not making a good first impression.

First attempt: Failed.

But he's not the Gojo Satoru for nothing. No, he won't give up just yet.

So he straightened his composure, faking a cough as he flashes his smile that makes all his girls go crazy, and lowers his head to show you his ocean blue eyes underneath his glasses.

He definitely made sure you won't forget his name as he asks forces you to walk you into class, blabbering nonsense by your side.

You were just too nice to tell him to go away.

September 16, 2023

Gojo Satoru was persistent. Walking you to class, even waiting for you outside the door when he was vacant, disturbing your quiet study session at the library, sitting with you at the cafeteria table when Shoko or Suguru was not there. You definitely didn't forget his name this time as he became the annoying Gojo Satoru who's becoming a nuisance to your somewhat quiet life turned into a roller coaster.

During those days, Gojo found out things about you. You were studying at the architecture department, you like arts and coffees as for what he noticed when you were at the library, you were at the top of your class, and you have a few admirers that you turned down in a nice way possible, just like how you were turning him down too.

He also took note of the fact that you were introverted, and a little shy with people so he might just go easy on you. You had a soft voice, however, you weren't as innocent as you came out to be. You are honest with your words, so when you say you're not interested in him, then you're truly not.

You weren't an easy target after all. But Gojo Satoru loved the thrill, you challenged him so much that he wasn't about to give up now that you intrigued him. He wanted to prove to himself that he can get anyone, he can have whatever he wants, and he definitely will.

"It's raining, it won't hurt to get in my car, princess." He said nearly in your ears. You pushed his face away with a look of disgust.

"No way, Gojo. You probably took so many girls in there already, and how can I be so sure you won't do anything bad?" You frowned at him, shoving his chest away as you stand outside the doors of your building, waiting for the rain to stop. You were angry, but damn you can't even raise your voice at him.

Soft. Too damn soft. Can he break you?

Through the days that he came by to woo you, it didn't matter anymore what words came out of your mouth. People may see you as the shy type of girl, but you're not afraid to voice out your opinion, and your somewhat intimidating face speaks a lot for you.

"Jealous?" He laughed when you glared at him. "Princess, I can assure you I haven't taken anyone inside my car. Plus, I can even buy a new one exclusively just for you if it bothers you too much." He grinned, annoyingly.

You gave him a moment of silence, and that sparked a new hope in Satoru's ego that you might be considering his offer now.

"Well... no."

Oh.

But he could only smirk, assuming you were only playing hard to get. Girls always liked when boys chase after them, no?

"I'll walk you home then."

You shot daggers at his back as he ran to his car, and came back with an umbrella. His shirt got a bit soaked, hair a little wet after running to the car, but damn, he still got that annoying smirk on his face.

You sighed, how annoying.

September 29, 2023

He never gave up despite how you rejected him multiple times. He stuck by your side even though you don't want him to, and he was somehow getting into your system. He carries your bag when he walks you to class, or just about anywhere, and you didn't even give your bag to him—he practically forced you. He'd buy you coffee in the morning, making sure he gets the right order, and when you give money to pay, he'd refuse and shove the money back in your wallet. Sometimes, he'd give you sweets even if you don't ask him to, giving you the flavors that he likes the most.

Funny how you can't even get him to stop whatever he's trying to do. No man has ever pursued you like he does.

"Gojo–"

"That's Satoru for you, love." He cut you off with a playful smile. "Haven't I told you already?"

"Gojo." You repeated seriously. His eyes glinted with interest as he waited for your words. "Get lost, please."

How nice of you to say please.

He laughs. He had the audacity to laugh. "You know, you're really cute."

"Look," you sighed tiredly. "Whatever this is you're trying to do, stop. I'm not interested. If you want to get into my pants like you did to those other girls, that's not going to happen."

With one look at him, you snatched your bag from him and walked away with your heart beating loudly. Your face was heating up after saying each word, and never in your life have you turned someone down so harshly.

Satoru watched as you walked away. Sure, that hurt his pride, but he can't let his ego step on so easily.

He left you alone during the day, just giving you the space since he seemed to have pushed your buttons a bit. Plus, he was busy with basketball practice since his coach was already nagging him for not attending their training.

However, your assumptions were only proved to be true when you caught him with a girl at the parking lot the same day. A cheerleader, stroking his chest as if she was comforting him as her other hands wiped his sweat with a towel. You looked at his physique, Satoru Gojo was in his basketball uniform, showing a lot of his biceps. You watched as his adam's apple protruding as he drank his water.

You felt annoyed. Your eyes turning red when you see just how he didn't mind the cheerleader. Of course, Gojo Satoru was a playboy.

Who cares? You definitely didn't.

That's what you thought.

You walked in the opposite direction, just so you wouldn't cross paths. But of course, Gojo Satoru will always see you. After all, he was at the parking lot waiting just for you, and only you.

"Wait up!" You heard his voice from behind, and you didn't even look back, thinking he wasn't calling out for you. You wished he was calling for you.

Satoru grabbed your wrist, and forced you to look at him. "Hey!"

Your brows furrowed, trying to yank your wrist away at his strong hold. "What do you want?"

"Woah... slow down." He said as he grasped your elbows with both hands. His eyes searched yours, his piercing blue eyes staring at the raging fire burning in your gaze. "What's wrong?"

You swear, your brows almost met each other at him. But you didn't want to burst. At least, not in front of him. "Go back to your cheerleader, Gojo." You frowned at him.

He observed you for a minute, then a small smile crept on his lips. Realizing just how much he's finally having an effect on you.

"Sorry," he chuckled.

"What?!" You almost shout at him in annoyance.

"I said, I'm sorry, princess." He repeated. "I didn't think of you as the jealous type. Plus, she was just helping me."

"Help you what? Wipe off your sweat? Since you don't have the hands to do it for yourself?" You glared at his annoying handsome face. "You playboy. I knew you were just trying to play with me." You said, pushing his chest with your pointer finger.

He pursed his lips as he caught your wrist, stopping you. "Now, now, don't think like that." He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I'll be sure to push those girls away so you won't be mad at me anymore."

And damn, he was true to his words. He didn't know what got into him, but he definitely started rejecting every girl that came his way. He didn't even feel sorry, and he even stopped calling those poor girls with sweet endearments as he rejected them.

Gojo Satoru was slowly starting to feel something for you. But he doesn't even know it just yet.

In a span of a month, he successfully got into your system.

October 6, 2023

"How's the deal going?" Suguru asked as they walked together to their class.

"Poor girl, I heard from people that she's nice." Shoko added, shaking her head at them. "Though people may see her as intimidating, they said she's really kind. A soft voice, and all that. Shouldn't you stop, Satoru?"

"Nah, I think I'm enjoying this." Satoru shrugged.

Of course, Satoru definitely felt something tugging at his heart. He definitely liked having you around, since you were giving just the right thrill to rile him up, he loved every rejection, and every attention you gave him. But somehow, he was feeling a little guilty. But he's too prideful to even admit that.

"Plus, she's friends with Utahime. That girl hates you a lot, Satoru." Shoko said. "You wouldn't want to hurt her best friend."

October 13, 2023

"Didn't I tell you to call me Satoru?" He raised his eyebrows at you as he accompanied you in the library, placing a coffee and a small cookie right next to your books.

"We're not friends, Gojo."

"Right, since you're going to be my girlfriend."

You shot him a look, sighing as you turned the pages of your book. "What do you want this time?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to spend time with my favorite person." He smiled, opening his books too. "I'll study with you. I promise, I'll be quiet."

You didn't respond to that, just expecting him to keep his words. And when he did stay silent like he promised, you were already thanking god for having to hear your prayers.

As the hours went by, you slowly fell asleep, your head resting in your arms as your books laid discarded. Satoru looked at you, a small smile crept on his face as he gently stroked your hair.

He stood up, organizing your books in a pile, taking your pencil case as he shoved your pens in them and putting it inside your bag, he got the empty cup of coffee that he got for you and threw it in the trash can, and he did it all so as to not wake you. He waited for a few hours, tenderly watching you doze off, before he tapped your shoulders to wake you up so he could take you home.

October 18, 2023

Maybe Satoru felt guilty now.

He twists and turns in his bed, thinking of you and how you put up with him everyday. And everything you do, never escape in his eyes as he finds himself memorizing you.

You'd smile at him nicely, despite how your eyes show how annoyed you were.

Your feet would tap the floor when you get too nervous.

You don't even know but you unconsciously hold a piece of fabric in his shirt when it gets too crowded, hiding behind him when there's a lot of people.

He notices how your hands move gracefully as you trace your art project, eyes furrowed and focus on getting your work done.

Truthfully, he adores your smiles. The way your eyes would squint every time your lips stretch in delight. He held your hands once at his attempt of flirting, and it was so soft that he couldn't even get himself to let go. He loved playing with your soft, silky hair whenever you fell asleep in the library, staying by your side until you woke up. He also loved your silence, the comforting atmosphere that you give off seems to calm something in his heart. When he manages to get a proper conversation with you, he just wants to melt every time he hears your sooting voice.

And nervously, he thinks he's starting to like you.

October 23, 2023

Slowly, Satoru became a part of your day. Somehow, he managed to finally be friends with you, and still, you refused to call him Satoru, indicating that you still cannot allow yourself to be casual with him.

That's fine. He can settle for whatever you can give him. For now.

"Baby, there's a basketball game coming up this Friday..." Satoru trailed off. You were almost going to point out his endearment, but then again, it's Satoru, and you were slowly getting used to him.

"What?" You asked. "So?"

"I bought you tickets so you can watch. It's two tickets, so you can bring your friend."

He didn't even ask if you wanted to, but then again, for a hundredth time, it's Satoru. He wanted you to watch his game, nonetheless.

And you did. Your seat being close to their benches so he can see you easily.

October 27, 2023

"Seriously? I'm about to watch our school's basketball game, because Gojo Satoru invited you?" Utahime said annoyed as you both sat at your assigned seats.

"Well... yes..." You said shyly, looking around at the amount of people in the stadium. "You know, we've been hanging out a lot–"

"I told you, he's bad news." Utahime cut you off. "How am I supposed to get that in your head?"

"I know, I know... But he's actually been nice. Haven't you notice?"

Utahime thought for a moment. Of course, she noticed some changes. Gojo Satoru seemed to be spending his time with you lately. He didn't even care about his ex flings, or his admirers, he was solely focused on you. Usually, Gojo would take a girl wrapped around his fingers in a day, and then disposing them just as quick after he got what he wanted. He looks like he's not like that to you, Utahime thought. Though, she hated his guts, Utahime knew you were enjoying having him around.

She sighed, "Just... don't get hurt, okay?"

You chuckled at her. "Why would I?"

After the game ended, with your school cheering loudly at winning, Utahime said she had to go home quickly, so you were left alone.

You didn't know what to do, or where to go. Satoru was busy with his teammates, talking and congratulating each other. Satoru wanted to go to you quickly, but his fans surrounded him, stopping him from going your way as they celebrated their victory.

Satoru knew too well that you didn't like the crowd, so he was trying hard to escape from it.

Your eyes watched as his fans congratulated him, asking for pictures, and even giving him gifts. You sighed, texting him that you'll be going home since he wasn't about to finish anytime soon.

You understood that he was famous, and all that. He's Satoru Gojo, after all. And it's another part of him that you're still not used to.

A part of you was proud of him. And you couldn't possibly be selfish about him, especially if you only recently got to know him.

Satoru hurriedly ran away from the crowd, excusing himself politely as he saw you walking through the exit doors. He got his bag, and ran to catch up to you.

Thanks to his long legs, and his intense basketball training, he was able to catch up to you quickly. "Hey!" He called.

You turned as you heard his voice, seeing his disheveled hair and sweaty forehead as he ran to you. "Gojo, hey, I texted you and–"

"Hey..." He greeted, panting heavily.

You pursed your lips, getting a handkerchief from your pocket so you can wipe the sweat off his face. "Why did you leave them? Everyone was celebrating with you."

"You weren't there." He frowned. "What's the point of it..."

Satoru was tired after the game, but he was regaining his strength once he saw you.

"Nonsense." You chuckled, in which he frowned even more.

"I'll take you home." He said as he holds your hand to his, leading you to his car. "I invited you anyway, it's my responsibility to take care of you."

You nodded, getting in his car since you had been tired from all the crowd.

When he reached your home, he quickly got off so he could open the door for you.

Oh, the little things that he does.

You both stand outside of your house awkwardly, both trying to find the right words to say. You looked away, tapping your feet nervously as Satoru watches you.

"Congratulations... Satoru."

Satoru... Satoru... Satoru... His name never felt so good until you said it. It was like an achievement, a big prize that he won in his life. And his heart was almost about to explode when you finally called him by his name.

Satoru almost stuttered thanks to you. Slowly, he was approaching you until your back leaned in his car.

He closed his eyes, as his head fell on your shoulders. "Say that again... please?"

"Huh?" You were confused, your face blushing at the proximity. "Congratulations?"

"No... say my name... please, baby?"

His voice was so soft, desperately asking you to say the words he longed to hear from you. Satoru felt weak in his knees.

He looked up at you finally, his eyes searching your soul. Despite the darkness of the night, his eyes were glowing brighter than the moon.

"Satoru?"

"Fuck..."

Satoru Gojo knew he's in danger.

The moment he locked eyes with your eyes, looking at them until it darted on your lips. Before he knew it, he was leaning down for a kiss.

And fuck it, just how dangerous it was that you weren't even pulling away.

October 28, 2023

You were confused when you saw Satoru at your front door the next morning, his hands holding a bouquet of flowers. He looked absolutely handsome in his shirt, his sleeves tucked until his elbow.

You blush when you remember what happened last night. "Satoru, what are you doing here? It's a Saturday."

"I know," he said, handing you the bouquet of tulips. "I missed you."

"H-huh?"

"Will you allow me to take you out on a date?"

His heart was at bliss when you said yes to him. It was a simple coffee shop date, but you felt so happy as he made sure you were also comfortable and having fun. Having casual talks with you, but this time, there was a lying affection between you two.

And when he took you home, he slowly sealed your lips in a kiss. Exploring your mouth gently, smiling as he pulled away.

October 30, 2023

Satoru finally told Suguru he wants to stop whatever game they started with each other.

"Just about time you do."

Satoru swears he felt his ears heat up when Suguru said those words with a teasing grin. Shoko was laughing at his flushed state, clapping her hands in delight.

"Ah! I knew it!" She exclaimed. "Knew you were going to fall on your own trap. Well, that's actually good."

Satoru blushed even more. Finally, he can admit that he was starting to like you. Love you even.

In all honesty, he felt like he couldn't even live without you in his life. He felt like every moment with you was precious, and he was desperate to make you his, seriously this time.

All those times that he accompanied you to class, were influenced by his own choice. He could've just left you alone some days, but he didn't even know he was doing all those things unintentionally. Buying you snacks, and your coffee, he could've easily stopped that after every rejection, but he chose not to.

Gojo Satoru wanted to always be a part of your day. He was already a part of your present, and he wants to be there in your past, and still be in your future.

November 3, 2023

Satoru, as usual, was eating lunch with you in the cafeteria. Everyone in the school knew by now that he was not entertaining anyone anymore, just you. And he made it that obvious, looking at you so lovingly everyone who passed by would've looked at you in envy.

"Why aren't you with Shoko and Suguru?" You asked as you take a sip of your coffee. You looked over to the table where his friends sat, both busy at whatever conversation they had.

"They don't mind." Satoru replied, scooting closer in your seat. "You should get used to it by now."

"To what?"

"Sitting with you during lunch." He smiled when you looked away. "I like being with you."

Your mind wandered off somewhere when he said that. Does he like you or does he like the company that you give?

November 10, 2023

Satoru was frowning at you when he saw you sitting with another guy in the library. At your usual spot, in his seat, in front of you. He was annoyed that someone even had the guts to make a move to you.

Slowly, with heavy steps, he approached your table, sitting at the vacant chair next to you. His hands wrapped itself between your waist, as his jealousy pulled him to kiss your cheek in front of your innocent classmate.

"Baby..." He whispered closely in your ear. "I was looking for you."

He looked in front to shoot daggers at the guy you were with. The innocent stranger blushed as he looked away, "Uh... I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'll message you if I need help."

The guy hurried on his feet, stumbling as he exited the library. Satoru's arms tighten on your waist and you looked at his angry face.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Who is he and why is he going to message you?" A frown was evident in his face, and he was getting a little too close. You had never seen him this intimidated.

"That's my partner for a group project, idiot." You muttered the last word. "You scared him off."

Satoru pulled you close, nuzzling his nose against your temple. "It's annoying..."

"What's annoying?"

Satoru cursed under his breath, "Come on, I'll take you out to dinner."

But while he was driving, it was painfully silent. You're not used to this kind of mood, he was always playful and teasing, but now, he was glaring ahead at the car in front of him, as if the car did something wrong.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and for some reason, you find yourself putting your hands above his, running circles on his tensed ones.

His hold loosened up a bit, and he sighed heavily.

"Tell me, what's wrong, Satoru."

Satoru pulled over to the side, facing you with a nervous face. "I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

"I was... jealous." He answered truthfully. He frowned, not liking the feeling twisting in his stomach. "I've never felt this before, baby. I want to keep you to myself, to always have you by my side and not anyone else, and it's so selfish that I hate myself for it. You're driving me crazy, and fuck it, I love you. I love you for making me like this. You don't understand... I'm head over heels–"

You interrupted him with a kiss. Satoru didn't even realize that he was already confessing, not until he felt your mouth against his.

It felt like there were fireworks exploding in your surroundings. Feels like he was finally breathing for the first time ever. Like the summer melting his winter.

"I love you too, Satoru."

He felt like dying right then and there, cupping your cheeks in a hungry kiss. Pulling you to his lap as you both make out in his car.

"Can I be your boyfriend?"

How can he be so cute, muttering those words weakly underneath you?

His question was not even a 'will you be my girlfriend' but a 'can i be your boyfriend?'

It was so cute. He was asking you your permission, he was asking to be yours.

He was... surrendering his heart to you.

And who were you to deny him?

November 20, 2023

You found out Gojo Satoru is a clingy man. It was obvious, the first time that he never left you alone, but this time, it only got worse, in a good way though.

He holds your hand when you're together, not even caring when girls would look at the two of you jealously. He doesn't care if a teacher sees him snuggling his face against your neck, he just wants to be that close to you. He will ask for a cuddle every time you two spend your time in your house. He would dart his tongue out teasingly at Shoko and Suguru when all of you sat at the same table, and he was hugging your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder. And when you two are in a private space, especially his car, he'd pull you in his lap for a long make out session.

You weren't even complaining, since you loved him just as much.

"Utahime!" You smiled when you saw your best friend in the cafeteria. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Utahime gave out a tired sigh. "I know, the professor is always giving out so many tasks, I might pass out anytime soon." She chuckled. "How are you? You and Gojo? He's like a lovesick puppy always sticking by your tail."

You chuckled. "That's so exaggerated, Utahime... But I'm really really happy."

Utahime was glad to hear her only best friend was this happy. She was thanking god that Gojo finally decided to be serious over a girl for once, and if he ever just breaks your heart, she'd be so sure to be the first to kick his ass.

December 4, 2023

"You're still with her?" Gojo's ex flings, Jia, asked him during his basketball training. Jia was the cheerleader girl that you saw him with in the parking lot, the fling that Satoru had for a month, longer than usual. He already rejected her, but she's still desperately trying to get with him.

"Of course, I am." He muttered, annoyingly. He snatched the towel that she was holding, her attempt to help him wipe his sweat. "Jia, I already told you–"

"Isn't she just a bet?"

Satoru froze, as if a bucket of ice was dropped all over his body. Her voice rang in his head, and he blinked furiously a few times.

"She's not–"

"But I heard you and Geto." Jia smirked, knowing she was just pushing the right buttons. "Come on, you were at the cafeteria, were you not expecting someone to hear you? I was pitying her when I saw the poor girl slowly starting to–"

"Whatever you heard, Jia, is none of your business." Satoru said in a cold-hearted tone. "I love her. Get that in that little brain of yours." He scoffed, walking away.

Jia was furious, her eyes turning black in anger. Oh, she wanted to hurt you. She was the last fling of Satoru, and just because of you, he was acting like this. She didn't like the fact that you easily stole him from her.

December 13, 2023

The fall. The breaking point.

Suguru was having a party in his house, a public year-end party with a few of his college friends and blockmates, everyone was invited to have fun. Satoru took you with him, making sure to just stay by your side so you won't get lost at the sea of people.

"How are you two holding up?" Suguru approached you two, handing a cup to Satoru. "You two having fun?"

You nodded your head quietly. "Yeah... there's a lot of people. Are they all from our university?"

"Some are outsiders," Suguru chuckled. "Satoru, we're about to play by the pool. We'll wait for you there."

Satoru nodded, pulling you by the waist as Suguru left. "You okay, baby? Do you want to go home?"

You shake your head, "No, no, it's fine. We can stay a bit more."

"Mhmm, just tell me if you get tired, okay?"

You two walked together to the backyard, where the swimming pool was at. It was a bit crowded, but definitely fewer than inside Suguru's house. Shoko was there, a few of Suguru's friends, and Satoru's basketball teammates. They were all passing out their drinks, mixing whatever liquor was there.

Everyone said hi to Satoru, even to you. You watched silently as a few of his friends talked to him.

"Satoru, I'll go to Shoko first." You whispered above the noise. He turned his head at you, stopping his conversation with his friends.

"What? I'll go with you then–"

"No, it's fine, Shoko's just there." You said, pointing at Shoko who was lighting a cigarette right next to Suguru. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Satoru nodded reluctantly as he let you approach Shoko and Suguru, turning back to his friends, glancing at you once in a while.

But when he wasn't looking, Jia just had the perfect timing to enter the scene, stopping you midway.

"Oh, it's Satoru's little toy." Jia slurred her words. You looked at her confused as she looked at you judging. "He's still not breaking up with you? He wants to hurt you that bad, huh?" She chuckled.

You were trying to assess her words. You recognized her as the cheerleader Satoru was with last time, and her aura and words were making you nervous. What was she trying to say? What did she mean by that?

Satoru saw you, and his breath hitch when he saw who you are with. He looked over at Shoko and Suguru, who both stood up to approach you, but Jia was already taking advantage of you being alone.

"Poor girl," she frowned teasingly. "I'm pretty sure Satoru didn't want to go too far with the bet."

"Bet?" Your voice came out hoarse. You looked over at Jia's shoulder, where Shoko and Suguru stood frozen in their spot, their eyes widened in horror, and it gave you just enough explanation about what's happening.

"Oh, they were just betting about how Satoru can make you fall in love 'til December." She laughed wickedly. "I'm sorry, honey, you had to find out this way, but really, I was feeling sorry that I have to tell you–"

Her words were cut short when you felt a hand on your wrist. And you turned to see Satoru, his eyes red and shaking, "Baby..."

"Satoru? Was that true?" You looked into his eyes, hopeful. Your eyes welled up in tears, and his silence just made it worse. His hold on you was trembling, and he couldn't even say the right words out of his mouth.

You looked at Suguru and Shoko, your eyes pleading. "Shoko? Suguru?"

Another silence. It's like something was pulling the strings of your heart, threatening to cut your lifeline. And it hurt so much when they couldn't even say something.

You heaved a gasp, trying to stop a sob to escape your lips. But you failed miserably as Satoru tried to pull you in his embrace. "Let me explain–"

You pushed him away furiously, eyes angrily glaring at him. "Explain? Explain what?! That what she said was true?!"

Satoru's hands balled in a fist, and he felt his eyes burning as you pushed him away from his touch. His heart aches when you look at him full of hatred, and hurt. He felt his world slowly crumbling apart when you ran away in a hurry.

You quickly called Utahime, asking her to pick you up as soon as possible. While Satoru stood there helpless, his feet glued to the ground. He looked at Suguru, his eyes searching for help.

All of you were equally shocked, and nervous.

"Fucking go after her, Satoru!" Shoko shouted as she pulled Jia's hair. "Fucking bitch!"

The latter cried, but Satoru couldn't care less as Suguru pushed him to move. As fast as he could, he ran outside the door of Suguru's house, walking past every dancing body, he didn't even care if he crashed into someone, he just wanted to get to you.

And when he found you walking by the sidewalk, his heart started crying at your panicked state. He approached you, holding your wrist to stop you from walking any further.

"Satoru!"

"Let's talk, please–"

"Let go of me!"

"Let's talk, baby. Let's talk this out." He pleaded desperately, hands grasping your shoulders to stop you from moving.

Your body trembled against him, hands covering your face as you tried to stop your tears from falling continuously. "I hate you."

"I know you do–"

"Fucking jerk."

"I know, I know–"

"Don't touch me!" You burst, pushing him away harshly. His heart crashed into pieces, his breath coming out shallow and slow. Just like you, he was crying just as bad. "I knew! I knew from the very start you were up to no good! Utahime warned me, my friends warned me! But fuck you! I thought you actually cared! I thought you loved–"

"I love you, baby..." He said, weakly.

"You lying skim! I thought you changed!"

"Please, baby, let's talk about this when we're not angry? Please?" He tried to reach out for you, but his heart felt like it was losing its strength when you back away.

"I don't want to see you–"

"N-no, you don't mean that..." His voice came out as a whisper, a desperate plea for you to listen to him. "I'll take you home, we'll talk, okay? I'll explain and–"

"There's no use, Gojo."

Cruel. How cruel of you to say his last name so coldly. It was a sign that Satoru refused to look at. A sign that you were tired, that you want to let this go already.

His beautiful blue eyes seemed to lose its life, the same way that he was losing you. One moment, you were there by his side, and now... you looked at him as if you wanted to get him out of your life.

And it hurt so bad. It hurt so bad when he tried to touch you, but you still furiously backed away.

"I love you." His voice cracked, looking at you weakly. His hands shake by his side, fighting the urge to reach out for you.

You breathed heavily, shaking your head at him as you said nothing back. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to let him hear your sobs. You're starting to pity yourself, of how stupid you had become. You should've listened to Utahime the first time.

December 14, 2023

Satoru had never felt this lifeless before. Even Shoko and Suguru couldn't help him as he refused to talk to any of them.

His eyes were searching for you everywhere in the cafeteria, but to his dismay, you never showed up the whole day, not even in your classes. He wanted to ask Utahime when he saw her walking down the hallways, but the girl only glared at him as she walked passed. And Gojo was just as helpless as ever.

He messaged and called you a few times, but you didn't answer. He wanted to go to your house, but he can't even find the courage to do it.

December 15, 2023

Satoru finally saw you after a day of absence. You looked tired, and he was mentally cursing at himself for making you like this. He was starting to hate himself, and he's not going to forgive himself anytime soon.

Satoru tried to approach you, but you didn't even dare look him in the eye. He bit his lower lip, trying his hardest to stabilize his breathing. Just like he usually does, he walks you to class, only a few steps behind this time.

Fine, he'll settle for this. He'll give you the space you needed first before anything else.

At the cafeteria, he didn't see you once again. That worried him as he left Shoko and Suguru to look for you. The first place he thought of was the library, and he was glad to see you there.

You glanced up from your book, feeling someone staring at you. And you were right as your eyes met with Satoru, and your heart ached as your brows furrowed at him.

You looked away, trying not to be affected.

All throughout the day, Satoru thought of you and your last interaction. Every time the memory flashed in his mind, he wanted to punch himself. Hurt himself twice as much.

He fucked up so bad, and he wanted to make it up to you.

So he finally had the courage to wait outside your classroom's door after his class, waiting for the professor to dismiss everyone. He didn't waste anymore time as he got by your side quickly when you walked out the door.

Your name rolled out his tongue slowly, and you stopped dead on your track.

"I'll t-take you home..." He stuttered, his eyes searching yours for any emotion. But your eyes were dead, not even a single anger, or love for him in there.

"I'm fine, Gojo. You can go away–"

"I'm not going away."

You turned to him furiously. It was like you two are back to square one, to the first time you two met, and no one should ever forget that Gojo Satoru was persistent. But this time, two hearts were breaking and in a need to mend.

"P-please, let's talk–"

You didn't respond as you walked away fast, but damn his legs for always being able to keep up with you. Despite how Satoru took the hint that you don't want to talk to him, he still didn't care. It didn't matter to Satoru if he couldn't take you home with his car, he'll walk with you instead, like how he used to.

He'll be quiet. He just wants to be with you.

December 16, 2023

You hated Saturday classes. And you hate it even more that Satoru Gojo was tailing you behind. Trying his best to get you to talk to him.

"Baby–"

"Don't call me that."

He coughed awkwardly, blinking his tears away. "You didn't eat lunch today again, let me take you–"

"Cut the crap, Gojo."

He gulped when you looked at him, with hatred in your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe he can settle for this. Look at him. Just look at him. At least look at him, even if you don't want to love him anymore. It's fine. He understands. Just look at him.

"Stop with the act already. I'm so tired of it. I'm so tired of you."

"I'm sorry..." He muttered against his breath. "But I can't. Not until you listen to me." Not until you take him back.

"There's nothing for you to explain anymore, Gojo. I've had enough, and I get it. I understand as bright as day that it was just a game–"

"It's fucking not." He gritted his teeth. As much as he didn't want to be harsh, he was so desperate in wanting you to lend your ears to him. "It wasn't a game for me. And I did love you. I fucking love you still. Yes, it was a bet at first, but I told Suguru that I wanted to stop. He knows just how much I love you. Shoko knows. Fucking everyone knows at this point. Why can't you just listen to me?"

He catches his breath as he finishes voicing out his words. But no, you were a little hard in the head. You wouldn't believe him that fast. You didn't want to hurt your heart again.

"I don't love you."

You didn't know what gave you the urge to say that. It wasn't really true, but the wrong words seem to be the only right words to cut it out.

If Satoru's heart is already breaking, he was sure it is now turning into ashes. You're a liar, he tried to convince himself. You love him, and he's not about to give up just yet.

December 18, 2023

You can hurt Satoru how much you want, but that will never stop him from loving and chasing after you.

Another frustrated sigh came out from you when he left a cookie on your table to your first class, with a note saying, 'I love you. Don't forget to eat.' with his name underneath and a heart. You didn't even know how he managed to put these on your table so early in the morning, and your heart just wants to surrender.

But no, you're not.

So, even if it comes out too heartless, you offered the cookie to the person next to you as you crumpled the note, throwing it away inside your bag so no one would see it.

During lunch, Satoru saw you at your usual table, and tried to sit with you. But you got up in a hurry, pulling Utahime who just got back from the bathroom with you.

Being angry at him is one thing, but avoiding him? No, he can't take that. He'd rather have you stay mad at him, scream and hurt him verbally, even slap him if you want, but giving him the cold shoulder was you telling him that he doesn't exist in your world anymore. Satoru's heart is barely living at this point.

Satoru cursed to himself, standing up and going back to Shoko and Suguru who looked at him with a sad smile.

"Give it time, Satoru."

But time doesn't seem to be on his side.

And fate doesn't get along with you on your most desperate days as you watched the rain poured down once again. It was like deja vu. Standing outside the building, waiting for the rain to stop so you can go home.

But the rain was falling a little too harsh, and you know it's not about to stop anytime soon. It was like the rain also had a turmoil within itself, crying heavily just the same way your heart did.

You hate yourself for always forgetting an umbrella as you take a step, lifting your bag to your head, as you let the rain soak your clothes. It's the last day of school today anyway, you're finally taking your Christmas vacation tomorrow, and it wouldn't hurt to get sick for a few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru comes to the rescue at the right time.

He held an umbrella as he ran after you, being careful as he strides so he won't trip on his feet.

He called your name, stopping shortly when he finally got you under the umbrella and pulling you close by the waist.

"I'll take you home." He shouted above the rain.

Your body trembled in the cold, and Satoru was embracing you like he used to. He didn't even mind if you got his clothes wet. But you still have the guts to push him away. "No! I can go home by myself!"

"Stop being stubborn!" Despite holding you with one hand, his other hand holding the umbrella, he still managed to keep you on your feet, his hand squeezing your waist tightly.

"Gojo–"

"Stop it!"

"Let go of me!"

"You're going to get sick!"

"I don't fucking care!"

"No, I'll take you home–"

"Gojo Satoru!"

Satoru gave up as you writhed from his embrace. He dropped his umbrella, using both his hands to grab your waist, and kissing you in the rain.

His tongue was invading, seeking every corner of your mouth desperately. Fuck, he missed this. He missed you so much. And he didn't even care if the rain was slowly ruining his hair and clothes, as long as he had you right here in his arms.

It was a dangerous dance underneath the cold waters beneath the rain. Two lovers, hopelessly trying to heal their broken hearts. Their lips tangled together like it was their last chance to be like this again.

"Satoru..."

"I'll take you home..."

How did you let yourself become weak for him?

You handed him a towel as both of you entered your home. Despite how upset you are with him, you couldn't possibly just leave him wet by the rain and catch a cold. You were just being nice, you said to yourself. It's not because of your affection towards him, you're just being a helpful woman who still has a heart so you invited him into your house. Thats it, that's all there is, perhaps.

Before you can leave him, Satoru holds your hand, electrifying the two of you to stop you from your tracks. You tried to look at him in the eye, but it was impossible. Satoru doesn't even try to hide how much he's hurting in front of you, and that just doubles the pain that you're feeling right now.

"Let's talk..." He said weakly. "Please? I'm not leaving if we don't talk."

"Satoru, please, just let it go..."

"No," he shakes his head stubbornly. "You mean so much to me."

Your breath hitched as he pulled you close, cupping your cheeks with both hands as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"It's true, we did make a bet..." He closed his eyes, the words falling in his mouth felt like daggers shot straight to his heart. "And I hate myself for it. For being a prideful jerk who wanted to prove he can have whoever he wants, and hurting you in the process..."

Satoru breathed heavily, his hands rubbing circles on your cheek. "Before I knew it, I was down badly on my knees. I wanted you. I love you. I wanted to spend each and every waking moment with you. And I told Suguru, and Shoko, that I wanted to stop whatever game we agreed upon, so I can start loving you truthfully..."

"Satoru..."

"And I felt so alive, baby. When you told me you love me too, when you let me be your boyfriend, when you finally accepted my love for you. Fuck, I can die a happy man. I just... love you. I love being loved by you. I love it when you let me love you. I love it when you do nothing and it just drives me wild. I love it every time I see your eyes looking at me. I love hearing your voice, seeing you smile, and love it even more when you let me hold your hand! I love every single piece of your soul, and I want you. I want to always be with you. My heart aches for you, baby... please..."

He was crying. Oh, god, he was crying as he confessed everything to you. And you swear your heart wants to come out from your chest.

Your heart was swelling, he was mending your bruises, healing your scars in every word he uttered. Your tears were falling nonstop, and your hands quiver to place it above his.

"Satoru..." You sobbed, looking at his helpless blue eyes who'd been crying buckets as well. "I hate the fact that I love you so much."

Satoru heaved a gasp as he pulled you to his embrace, sealing you in a wet kiss. Somehow, it didn't even feel cold anymore now that you have your arms around him again.

His face settled on your neck, and he was catching his breath. He ran his hands in your hair, holding you tight as if he was afraid to let you go.

"Don't leave me again..."

"I won't. I promise." You let out a low chuckle. This time, you cupped his cheek so he could look at you. "I love you so much, Satoru. I'm so sorry for hurting you."

"I deserved it." He smiled. Finally, he was smiling at you. "And I love you more."

Satoru made sure he's not letting you escape this time. Everyday, he's going to make it up to you. He's going to tell you how much he loves you, and he's going to make sure you'll never even forget it until you fall asleep. He's going to love you like it's breathing, and he promised to himself he's going to love you until the next lifetime.

***

i know i said I'll do the part 2 of my Suguru fic, but im so sorry this was in my head for ages 😭 i promised ill start part 2 in a while... anyways, thanks for reading! its not proofread so im sorry for any typographical errors and spelling ^^

6K notes · View notes

celestie0 · 11 months ago

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere.

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him.

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.”

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already.

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it.

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead.

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?”

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says.

You glance at the time. 11:56am.

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.”

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.”

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest.

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.”

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings.

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you.

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them.

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed.

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately.

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible.

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before.

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks.

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks.

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.”

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase.

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby.

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you.

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you.

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded.

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you.

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.”

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long.

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing.

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before.

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.”

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door.

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously.

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm.

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?”

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?”

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest.

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?"

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious.

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him.

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how.

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it.

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters.

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly.

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.”

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been.

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly.

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too.

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you.

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.”

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly.

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck.

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area.

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.”

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?”

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says.

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.”

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.”

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him.

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back.

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear.

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake.

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though.

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

2K notes · View notes

missmeinyourbones · 11 months ago

Text

AURORA BOREALIS GREEN

cw: non sorcerer au, college au, enemies to lovers (?) neighbors to lovers, miscommunication trope if you squint (I AM SORRY), reader e to as she/her once, reader wears heels, some light sexual content (dry humping nation rise)

wc: 10k+

There's something wrong with your upstairs neighbors.

You've never met them, not face to face at least, but between the times you've hit your ceiling with the end of your broom and the audacity they have to continue to be as rowdy as they are, something isn't right with them. You're sure of it.

And you're not naive to the fact that your apartment building is filled with young people, either currently in college or just freshly graduated. You're no prude to the dulled sound of late-night party playlists or squeaky bed frames muffled by plaster.

But your neighbors aren't guilty of these typical noise complaints. No, they're borderline much worse.

The majority of their crimes take place in the day, believe it or not, which makes it all the more frustrating when you actually have shit to do. When it's not boyish yells of victory and frustration, it's footsteps that sound like a herd of elephants (how many people can live in an apartment floor plan for two?). They're relentless upstairs neighbors to have, and though you couldn't pick their faces out of a crowd if you tried, you're sure their lack of etiquette spans across other areas of their lives.

The tiny clock at the top of your computer blinks a mocking 11:38 AM as you try to study through the sounds of excited stomping and rowdy gibberish.

You don't know what makes today so different, whether it's the burnt coffee beans you can taste lingering in your usual order from the cafe across the street or the organic chemistry study guide practically laughing at you as you review your hieroglyphic notes for tomorrow's test.

Whatever is in the water has you feeling braver than usual, and instead of reaching for the conveniently placed broom in the corner of your kitchen, you find yourself stomping your way down the hall and up the staircase.

The sixth floor is identical to the fifth — you don't know why it wouldn't be, but you've never put much thought into it — so it's no surprise that your feet find no trouble in naturally bringing you to a door equivalent to yours just a floor below.

Your knuckles wrap against the wood with three unfriendly knocks, and the joyous buzzing from inside the apartment instantly comes to a lull. You think you hear panicked whispers from the other side, almost as if the culprits are debating on answering or not. You take their choice away when you knock three more times.

After a moment, you hear the clicking of the lock and the fiddling of the doorknob. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, put on your best customer service voice, and prepare to calmly tell these entitled frat boys to shut the fuck up when—

You're ironically met with the prettiest green eyes you think you've ever seen.

A tall brunette stands before you, about your age, and wearing a look that's both confused and embarrassed. Your eyes quickly flicker across his face in the span of mere seconds, logical thoughts going out the window and now replaced with amazement at how stupidly attractive he is.

Though you knocked on his door, he speaks first.

"Hi...?" He clears his throat, looking behind you in the hallway, almost as if you have the wrong room.

His confusion annoys you, and you suddenly remember why you're here in the first place.

"Look, I really don't wanna be a bitch," you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "but what could you possibly be doing in this apartment that sounds like an actual full-out brawl on a Wednesday morning?"

Obliviously handsome neighbor's face goes a bit pink and his jaw slacks as he stutters, looking for either a shitty excuse or a polite explanation of the truth.

He opens the door a bit more, gesturing to the living room behind him. You spare a glance to where another guilty suspect stares back at you with big brown eyes and a smirk. There's some video game paused on the screen, ridden with animated blood and a scoped weapon's perspective.

Your attention is brought back to the one holding the door when he mumbles, "I think it's our game."

A bit dumbfounded at his lame answer, you blankly stare at him.

"Your... game?"

Brown Eyes yells from the couch, "Call of Duty!"

As if on instinct, Green Eyes closes the door a bit, shielding you from his roommate and shaking his head in exasperation. He clears his throat awkwardly, "Sorry, are you—?"

You're suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you've been staring at how long his fucking eyelashes are. He's anything but sore on the eyes, but again, you try to remind yourself that he and his roommate make your life difficult at least five out of seven days of the week.

"I live below you," you huff behind a swallow, "and you really don't make it easy."

He nods dumbly, finally realizing the connection behind your visit. "Oh, right."

You scoff and nod your head. For someone as pretty as him, he's a bit thick in the head.

Biting your cheek, you begin to walk away from the door without completely ending the conversation. As you're turning to leave, he hears you call out from down the corridor.

"If you could just — not play video games like eleven-year-old boys," your tone is filled with annoyance, "that'd be great."

You don't need to turn around to know that the stranger at the door is apologetic and nodding in compliance. Before he can fully shut the door, you hear a quip from his counterpart on the couch.

"She told you, bro."

As the door shuts, you hear the muffled hiss from the other. "You're the one making noise, dipshi—"

…..

Your threatening conversation must have worked to some degree, because it's been almost two days without any sort of annoyance from your upstairs neighbors. You think you almost take it for granted, the way you can study without headphones and enjoy a movie in the living room rather than in your bed with the speaker on high.

The walk back from your class is usually about twenty minutes, but it's closer to fifteen today as you're quicker when it comes to getting out of the cold.

Your chemistry test went alright — maybe not your best work but okay enough that you passed. And that's all you care about as you make your way back to your apartment, intending to crash in your bed and not move for the next few hours.

The winter air leaves a chill up your spine as you swipe into your building and press the elevator button. Your nose runs a bit from the cold as it sits against your knit scarf. Bag on your arm and half-consumed coffee, you can't wait to enjoy a day or two without thinking about covalent bonds and isomers.

You close your eyes and release a sigh as the elevator door begins to close, but before it gets the chance to do so successfully, quick footsteps and a hand jammed between the closing space prompt the doors to reopen.

Not really paying attention to the stranger joining your 30-second elevator ride, you simply step to the side to make more room for them.

It's not until they make eye contact with you that you realize it's your neighbor, the same one you'd borderline terrorized a few days ago for being irritating.

He's out of breath from catching the lift last minute, lungs still adjusting from the crisp air from outside. His jacket is zipped all the way up to his collar and his hair pokes out in spiky tuffs from beneath his hat.

He mumbles out a weak "sorry" before his eyes find the floor and the rickety door shuts, leaving the two of you alone in the suddenly very small space.

You'd cuss beneath your breath if you weren't close enough for him to hear it.

What's the acceptable thing to do in this scenario? You mentally weigh out your options. Sit in an awkward silence? Introduce yourself as if your encounter never even happened? Address the fact that you banged on his door a few days ago and insulted him as a first impression?

You choose the silence. If anything, you silently pray that behind your winter apparel and the lack of eye contact, he doesn't even recognize you.

But that thought goes to shit when you see that he's already pressed the fifth-floor button for you.

You swear the ride to your floor has never been this slow. Seconds feel like hours as you watch the digital number rise like paint drying on a wall. The elevator almost laughs at you as it stops on the third floor and opens itself to find no one there; you curse whoever decided to press the button before changing their mind and taking the stairs.

After what seems like forever, your floor finally flashes on the pixelated screen, and as you feel the elevator come to a stop—

The doors don't open.

You think it's just your dramatic prolonged sense of time until it's been about ten seconds and still, nothing. Just the two of you in a stopped elevator with doors that won't unlock.

You've never been one to believe in karma, but you can't help but think this is the universe punishing you for standing up for yourself. You are quite literally on your floor, a mere sliding door away from the embarrassing situation you got yourself in, but still, nothing happens.

He presses the button meant to prompt open the doors a few times with slight force.

"It does this, sometimes," he weakly coughs out in an attempt to make conversation. "It's uh—a shitty building."

You try pressing the button for yourself, "It's never done this for me."

Green Eyes sighs, slouching against his side of the wall and letting his head fall to rest on his shoulder, "Consider yourself lucky."

You huff, giving up on the button and turning to face him.

Your eyes didn't deceive you the first time you saw him — he is just as pretty as you'd initially thought. Not a great conversationalist, but nice to look at. He avoids eye contact until you speak up.

"It's happened to you before?" you gesture to the doors that won't open.

He catches your eye before nodding defeatedly, "This is the fourth time."

You can't help but bitterly laugh at the situation you're in.

"Maybe it's just you, then," you joke, looking up at the digital five mocking you in the corner.

Though you don't catch it, his eyes soften a bit as they fall on you. The corner of his mouth slightly quirks up when he chimes, "Could be."

You let yourself count another ten seconds before tossing your hands by your sides in aggravation and sighing, "So, what now? Hit the help button or—"

And like a blessing, or maybe a curse, you can't decide, the elevator chimes, signaling its arrival. The doors open swiftly as if there was nothing wrong with them in the first place, revealing your destination floor to you.

You whip your head to your upstairs neighbor, confused and almost asking for his permission to exit the elevator. You don't know why you do so, and you don't know why you only depart after he nods his head and waves his hand for you to continue.

Next time you leave your apartment, you find yourself taking the stairs to be safe.

…..

Your peaceful living is unsurprisingly short-lived. After a few enjoyable days, you'd given your neighbors too much credit as they now return to their usual noisiness. You find yourself rapping on their door once again.

This time, Brown Eyes answers.

Even before opening his mouth, he's instantly friendlier than his counterpart based on body language alone, completely opening the door all the way wide and leaning against the frame in his palm.

He's taller than you, but not as tall as the former who greeted you last time. With light rose-colored hair, he's all smiles and giggles. You'd think he were high if you could smell anything on him.

Oh, he's also shirtless.

"Hey, it's our friend again," he smiles at you before craning his neck backward, and you can make an educated guess on who exactly he's talking to.

You're quick to steer clear, "We aren't friends."

He laughs at your words, completely unfazed by the unwelcoming attitude. He casually sips on an energy drink that looks borderline lethal when he asks, "Were we being loud? You comin' to yell at us again?"

His lack of care for the situation surprisingly doesn't rub you the wrong way. Inconvenient? Yes, but not necessarily malicious, from what you can tell.

"I wouldn't be here for any other reason."

"Sorry," he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "We don't really have inside voices around here."

You can't help but roll your eyes at the childish excuse. "You should find some."

"Will do," he nods like a child being reprimanded in class, "sorry again."

He salutes you with a metal can in his left hand. Before you can turn your back to him and towards the elevator, you hear the same voice call out to you.

"Hey—!"

You stop midstride, slowly turning around to face the door again. He stands in the same position, leaning against the door frame as he points out the obvious.

"We didn't get your name last time."

You blink at him a few times, not caring enough to connect the dots and extend the nicety, but the friendly one persists. He places a palm on his (bare) chest as he gestures to himself, "I'm Itadori."

You nod with raised brows, "And I'm calling our landlord if you piss me off again."

You hear a soft chuckle from the inside of the apartment. The two of you turn at the sound of the noise, where Green Eyes hides his smile behind the strings of his sweatshirt and quickly returns his attention to his phone.

Itadori, apparently, looks back at you and nods to his friend, "That's Fushiguro."

You breathe out your own name and quickly make your way back towards your apartment. On the ride down to your floor, you find yourself repeating the name — Fushiguro. It tastes weird on your lips, and you hate the way you don't hate it.

..…

His name is Megumi.

You learn this when a letter shows up at your door addressed to a Fushiguro Megumi. Mail mix-ups are common in the apartment complex, but you can't help but laugh at the coincidence - his name but your apartment number clearly displayed in black ink.

You examine the piece of paper closely. The cream-colored envelope covered in poorly drawn hearts and tacky puppy stickers placed randomly across its front found itself wedged into your door's mailbox. Flipping it over, the return address is a mere surname of Gojo underlined with a smiley face.

A love letter, you realize. You're not sure why the shift in narrative suddenly fills your stomach with an uneasy weight of disappointment.

You're going out anyways, you tell yourself as you slip on your scarf and shimmy into your shoes. Between stopping at the grocery store for a few small things and dropping off overdue assignments at your professor's office, it's not like you're going out of your way to return the letter to its intended recipient. You're doing the right thing, being a good samaritan, your mind repeats.

The single flight up the stairs is easy enough and a good excuse for exercise. Approaching the door that mimics your own floor below, the same one you've already visited two times too many, you feel weirdly nervous. Just slide it beneath his door and call it a day.

As you bend to slip the paper beneath the door, it swings open.

You quickly stand up straight and back away from the opening, as the shadow in your peripheral startles from your presence and does the same.

"Shit, sorry—"

Looking up, you lock eyes with the one and only whose letter lies in your hand. Fuck.

He hesitates a bit when he realizes it's you, doing a double take and immediately assuming he's in trouble again.

"We—" Megumi, you now know him to be, turns his back to you, quickly surveying his empty apartment to show you, "aren't playing? Yuuji's not even home, so—”

You're not sure why you're the slightest bit hurt by his more than reasonable accusation. The only two times you've been at his door were to reprimand him, so of course he's not wrong to assume this time was no different. Still, it has you feeling guilty as you dryly swallow and raise your arm.

"I was sticking this under your door," you sigh, handing him the ridiculous-looking envelope. "Got sent to my place accidentally."

His eyes flicker to your extended hand, and when he sees the writing on the envelope between your fingers, his body instantly goes hot with embarrassment.

"Of course it did," he groans beneath his breath, almost annoyed.

A bit abruptly, he grabs the letter from you and places his hand behind his back, telling himself that if it's out of sight, you'll forget it ever happened entirely.

His uneasiness and slight frustration have you taking a small step back as he snatches the envelope. He senses your hesitation and immediately mourns how he acted out of instinct, sighing and slowly moving the letter from behind him to rest by his side.

He softens and clears his scratchy throat, something you've come to notice he does a lot. "Thanks."

Feeling a bit brave, you raise your eyebrows, amused at his odd behavior. Your words are taunting yet friendly when you nod to the note at his arm.

"You should probably tell your girlfriend that you're in #603, not #503."

Megumi's face is often stoic and downturned, aside from a slight pull of a smile that can rarely be seen on occasion. But at these words, you watch in regret as Megumi's expression mimics one of disgust mixed with pure mortification.

"Oh, this—" his eyes fall to the envelope he thinks might be the cause of his death, "this isn't from a girlfriend. It's actually a lot worse than that."

"Worse?" you push.

"It's... from a family friend," he weakly reveals. "Kinda like a dad, I guess."

You find yourself smiling at the meek yet sweet confession, nodding along and biting back a good-hearted laugh at his timidness.

"Right, I just assumed with the hearts and the cute stickers that—" you trail off, gesturing to the letter that clearly presents itself as something else.

He laughs a bit humorlessly and itches the back of his neck shyly.

"That would make a lot more sense and be a lot less humiliating, yeah."

You take a moment to take in his shyness. He's harmless, you decide at that very moment. You make a mental note to remind yourself to weigh the sides of the subject at hand.

Cons: awkward, obvlvious, bad neighbor, a tad unfriendly at times

Pros: annoyingly attractive, nice enough in actual conversation, respectful in passing, girlfriend-less

You shake those points from your head, taking a breath and slowly moving towards the elevator. "It could've been worse. The stickers could've been puppies and kittens," you tease.

You expect that to be all, because that's all it should be, right? An awkward yet friendly coincidence between two strangers who got off on the wrong foot. You're locked in on entering the elevator when you hear his voice from behind you.

"Sorry—" he shortly blurts out.

You turn, expecting him to elaborate on the outburst. The look on his face almost reads as if he wasn't planning to until seeing your reaction, where he explains, "That we're loud sometimes. I really do try to tell Yuuji to shut up, but he's just... a lot."

You don't know why your heart swells at the apology.

"It's fine," you nod softly. Turning your back, you call out to him as you enter the elevator. "You've actually been pretty tolerable this week, but don't let that go to your head."

As the elevator closes, you see Megumi smile before returning inside and closing his door. This time, you don't stop the thoughts that flow through your head.

Pro: cute

.….

You suppose it was only a matter of time before the tables you'd set managed to turn on you, but you just didn't expect it so soon. Because the next time you run into your neighbors, it's them knocking on your door for a change.

The sharp winter wind shakes the sides of your building with rage — the kind that results in creaky panels and systems outages in certain sectors of your building.

After waking to take a shower early this morning and being greeted with piercing cold water that refused to warm up, no matter how long you ran the faucet, you knew today would be a long one.

Clad in layers of fuzzy socks and bulky hoodies, you rise from the couch to answer the banging outside. After opening the door to see who's on the other side, it takes less than a second for the visitor to make himself at home.

"You out of hot water, too?" Yuuji casually brushes past you, walking into your home and stopping in the center of the living room. He looks around the space in awe — as if his own place just a singular level above doesn't mimic the exact same floor plan.

Still in the hallway but keeping an eye on his friend's questionable behavior, Megumi waits in the hallway. He's on the phone with someone, his cell wedged between his elbow and ear. When he begins asking about the building's backup generator, you mentally thank him for being the only proactive one here.

You sigh and turn to Yuuji, who's admiring your wall art and the fact that you have an actual television stand, "I'm out of heat in general."

"Damn," he blurts out without a thought, "that sucks."

You overhear Megumi wrapping up his conversation in the background when your lips are pulled downward in confusion.

"Are you guys not?"

"Oh no, we are," Yuuji continues admiring your apartment with a child-like curiosity, "but we have a space heater that's doing the job for now. How are you so good at decorating?"

You ignore his question, turning to Megumi who now stands on the threshold of your doorway. He makes a face, one of tight lips and sympathy, almost as if he's wordlessly apologizing for both the unfortunate scenario and his roommate's lack of social etiquette.

You further wrap yourself in your own little warmth, crossing your arms inwards. "That's actually really smart of you guys," you manage to croak out.

"You can come up and chill if you want," Yuuji mindlessly offers, eyes scanning over the magnets on your fridge. He can't stop himself from fiddling with a cherry-shaped one that holds up a baby picture of you from kindergarten.

The shock on your face must be obvious because you swear you hear Megumi swallow a chuckle at your reaction.

"You came down here… to ask me to chill?" Your voice octaves up towards the end, almost as if repeating the offer will reveal itself to be a track or joke.

While Yuuji nods eagerly, you can hear Megumi muttering from behind the neckline of his sweatshirt.

"Sue us for extending a neighborly olive branch."

As Yuuji continues to outwardly snoop around your kitchen, his eyes land on your oven-top clock and he whines.

"I actually have class in twenty and need to catch the shuttle to campus, but you're welcome to not freeze to death with Fushiguro, if you want."

You check your phone, confirming the time when you question, "Didn't the last shuttle of the hour leave already?"

You watch the gears turn in Itadori's mind for a second before he smacks a palm to his head, quickly brushing past you and out the door.

"Fuck me, see you guys later then—" he hurries, the only sound following him being the swishing of his winter coat and clunky booted footsteps jostling down the stairs.

And with Megumi still standing in your doorway and the sound of the main staircase gate slamming behind Yuuji's path, you could hear a pin drop between the two of you if it weren't for the howling wind outside (which you find yourself suddenly grateful for rather than loathing it).

Megumi shifts his weight on the balls of his feet as he stands. He clears his throat in a way he hopes is subtle.

"You can still come up," he gestures to the hallway with a nod of his head, before cautiously adding, "if you want."

Instinctively, you feel your body curl further in on itself. Megumi must notice it too, as his eyes quickly flicker to your raw hands tucked beneath your arms.

"It's not that bad in here," you weakly dismiss.

He deadpans, "I can almost see your breath."

A sigh leaves your chilled body and you look up at Megumi. Now it's your turn to silently communicate with him — eyebrows raising and wavering between your options, you chew on your cheek in thought.

"You don't have to," he softly adds, hands burrowing themselves in the pocket of his hoodie. "Just wanted to see if you needed anything, I guess."

"What did the landlord say?" your words are muffled from your teeth in your cheek.

Megumi's eyes light up a bit before they find his scuffed Converse again.

"He's sending his guys over, but it's gonna take an hour, at least."

After another minute that feels like twenty, you softly speak up.

"…Do you really have a space heater?"

As he fights off a smile, Megumi gently nods.

.….

You'll admit, the apartment looks better than you'd imagined. Not that your standards weren't too high to begin with, but you're pleasantly surprised.

Megumi unlocks the front door, gesturing for you to enter as he slowly closes it behind him, shivering a bit from the draft weaving through the hallway.

It's clean, relatively. The design of the rooms and open areas are identical to your layout below, but between the decor (or lack thereof) and the overhanging presence of the space, it feels so different.

Their television, the one you know to be responsible for their rowdiness, balances on what looks to be a bedside table. Far too small for the proportions of the TV but just enough to carry the width of the screen's base, it looks silly but does the job.

"You can just…" Megumi waves his hand to the living room, awkwardly trailing off as he insists. "Sit. Wherever you want."

Your seating choices include a felt futon in scrappy condition, two lopsided beanbags, and a busted recliner. You take your chances with the futon.

Surveying the apartment, it's not terrible — truthfully, you'd been expecting worse from college guys. You give them props; aside from a few half-drank plastic water bottles and withering plants on their window sill, there's nothing that outwardly goes against any health violations or suitable living standards. No empty beer cans or pizza boxes, no trashy flags or posters hung on the walls. It's decent.

And the space heater working overtime in the corner outlet is a major plus. Feeling the angle of its warmth blasting on your legs, you exhale at the heat and rub your fuzzy slippers together on instinct.

"Do you want anything?" Megumi stands a few feet away, nervous for someone in the comfort of his own home, "Water or a drink, or something?"

It's sweet how respectful he's being — you think back to whoever sent him that letter, imagining they raised him right.

You shake your head curtly, "I don't take drinks from strange men."

His face drops instantly.

"Oh—right," he swallows harshly, fumbling with his sparse words. "I didn't mean it like that or anything, but that makes sense. I just meant—”

The stoic expression you were attempting to upkeep fails and you can't fight off the smile that pulls at your cheeks. Exhaling a laugh and looking over at him, you apologize, "I'm just kidding, Megumi."

He feels his stomach instantly solidify like cement at your words — Megumi. He doesn't recall you ever referring to him by any name, let alone his first. He feels a wandering heat itching up his neck when he coughs up a chuckle.

He shakes his head, sitting on the opposite end of the futon and leaving the middle cushion between the two of you unoccupied.

"Fuck off," he scratches his jaw to busy his shaky hands. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of a few silver rings wrapping around his knuckles.

As the warmth of the space heater (solely the space heater, you remind yourself) gradually dissolves the chill that's been stuck up your spine for the last few hours, you slightly settle further into your seat.

"So this is the scene of the crime, huh?" you motion to the gaming console propped up on the floor beside the makeshift television stand.

Megumi amuses an exhale through his nose and nods along, "Yeah. I mean, you've kinda seen it from the hallway before."

"Yeah, but this is the real thing, first-person point of view. It's just missing me downstairs hitting the ceiling with my broom twenty times."

The next few minutes are stolen by a whole lot of small talk that holds no weight. Beginning to panic at how the hell you're gonna make it through this entire hour with little to talk about, your eyes fall on the television once more.

"So," you curl into the futon. "Show me something worth screaming over."

Without warning, Megumi chokes on his own saliva as he swallows.

"Huh?"

"A game," you quickly correct, not realizing how your words sounded and nodding to the television before you. "I meant, show me a game that justifies how loud you two get."

The game is fine, nothing revolutionary but admit that you could see how it could be entertaining for some. A standard battle royal concept, Megumi hands you his second controller and walks you through the instructions on how to play.

You mimic the way his fingers hold the controller, how they flex and bend to hit certain buttons for special uses. Throughout the tutorial of trial and error, the two of you naturally close the gap of the middle cushion, now much closer as you copy his movements and use his hands for reference. He even goes as far as reaching over to point out certain buttons to you, skimming your fingers hesitantly as he pulls away.

It's safe to say you don't win, don't even come close, but he's a good sport all the same. He laughs when you're hit by enemies and revives you with little to no mocking. He whispers an encouraging "there you go" whenever you manage to land a hit on someone, followed by an "I got you" when he's covering for your character. It's fun — you freeze a bit when you realize that you like spending time with him, even doing the very thing that caused this entire debacle in the first place.

You don't realize how much time has passed until Megumi's phone vibrates from the coffee table. His eyes quickly glance over the unsaved number, almost as if recognizes the contact and is debating on answering or not.

Your eyes narrow teasingly when you taunt, "You gonna take that?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Megumi nods, swipes his screen, and holds his phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

The conversation is short, maybe thirty seconds in total. Though you can't make out any specific words, you can hear the rumbling of another deep voice on the other end of the call. Megumi listens half-heartedly, nodding along and chiming in here and there to acknowledge the caller.

"Hey, yeah. That was me. Right, okay. Okay, nice. Thanks, appreciate it."

The call ends and Megumi puts his phone down on the coffee table once more. You swear you can hear a small sense of disappointment in his voice when he breathes.

"That was the maintenance guy," he breathes softly. "Heat's back on."

You feel your own body getting sour with misfortune. Why are you so bitter about the thought of going back downstairs to your own apartment?

Nodding at his words, you slowly stand and do your best to sound relieved. "Thank god," you joke, "I was beginning to think I might have to sleep on this gross futon."

Megumi sneers, rolling his eyes and rising to walk you to the door. Before you step into the hallway, you turn to face him.

"Thanks," your tone is spineless, one he's unable to recognize from you before you elaborate, "for letting me leech off of your heat."

"No problem," he shoots you a genuine look. "Consider it reparations for all of the times we've annoyed you."

"All of the times?" you shoot him a harmless glare.

Unlike most who cower and scowl at your sarcastic quips, Megumi seems to bloom beneath your daggered attempts at pushing him away.

"Fine," he exaggerates a groan, "maybe not all. But it's a start, right?"

A start. The insinuation tickles all air out of your lungs like a feather. Though you pretend to be annoyed and kiss your teeth at his words, you nod all the same.

Leaving his door, Megumi seems lighter than he did when you first entered.

"Sorry you just kinda watched me play video games for almost two hours," he calls out to you as you depart, hands returning to his pockets.

"Don't be," you honestly tell him as your head cranes back to look at him. "It was nice to be up here for reasons other than wanting to strangle you."

.….

A day and a half later when the universe has realigned itself and it's you knocking on their door again, they half expect you to be followed by your stuffy landlord holding an eviction notice.

Much to their surprise, you're alone, rather skittish — and holding a tupperware container of… cookies?

It's Megumi who opens the door initially, but Yuuji is quick to squeeze his way into the opening at the sight of your familiar face and mysterious delivery in hand.

"Ooooooh, what are these?" he inquires, unashamed as he pokes his nose into your space in an attempt to get a better look at the baked goods.

Pulling a bit away from his antics, you swallow back any potential wisecracks.

"Thank you for being neighborly and not letting me die of hypothermia cookies," you keep your voice neutral.

"Are they poisoned?" Megumi pipes in.

You shoot him a scowl, one he's learned is innocent enough, and his eyes crinkle in amusement.

"Shit, can't remember if I added vanilla or vitriol?" your head cocks to the side in faux thought.

Your eyes flicker to him as he chews on his cheek in a half-assed attempt to cover up his entertainment at your quickness.

Yuuji, focused on nothing but having a minimum of five cookies for good measure, snatches the container from your hands and carries it to the kitchen counter.

He's already opening the dish and helping himself as he chews, "I don't even know what that is, so I'm gonna take my chances."

Megumi gives a quick thank you for the cookies, and Yuuji chimes in behind a satiated mouth and crumby lips. You brush off their graces, reminding them it's just you returning the favor for the heating situation.

Just as you're about to see yourself out of their entryway, you hear an authentic offer from the kitchen.

"Hey," Yuuji wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and something about it feels oddly youthful to you, "wanna come over this weekend?"

You look at the two of them for a moment, waiting to see if there's a punchline to come, before carefully treading, "Why?"

"We're havin' some friends over," Yuuji reveals casually before going to take another large bite, "and I guess you're funny enough to hang out with us."

The hesitation in your response must be more apparent than you think because he's quick to chuckle and elaborate on the offer.

"It's not an orgy," he teases at your stiffness before grabbing at another cookie and shrugging. "We get take out, chill, drink a little, kick ass in Mario Kart."

You nod as you listen to his words. He's kind, they both are, and you know the offer to be a genuine one. Still, the situation makes your stomach ache with uncertainty at the thought of mingling with strangers for the sake of your mere — acquaintances? Neighbors? Friends?

"As fun as that sounds," you breathe, clearly trying but failing to convince them of your apologetic tone, "I don't really wanna intrude on you and your friends.

"It's not intruding if you're invited," Megumi interjects for the first time in the conversation.

Looking at where he stands against the counter, his eyes are on you. They're careful, but hopeful in a gentle kind of way. He wants you to say yes — but he'd rather swallow a knife than his own pride and admit it himself.

Your words are unconvincing when you sigh, "Not really in the hangout mood. Next time, okay?"

The two men deflate a bit, one more dramatic and obvious than the other, but they nod at your rejection. Wiping his hands off on his shorts, Yuuji walks you to the door, thanking you again for the sweets and joking about you getting home safe on your long journey back downstairs.

You can't help but giggle at his theatrics, insisting that, "If you need me this weekend, I'll be rotting away on my couch with a bottle of wine and a week's worth of Love Island to catch up on."

Yuuji laughs wholeheartedly, "Your loss, see ya."

Megumi weakly waves as his best friend swings the door shut. Once closed, Yuuji turns to him with a cheeky smile he knows can mean nothing good.

Megumi grimaces at his enthusiasm, "What?"

Yuuji nods to the door, a toothy grin spreading across his face. "Think I'm gonna ask her out."

Megumi's quick to react poorly.

"What?" he borderline knocks over the water bottle next to him on the counter. He catches it, embarrassed by his obvious care for the situation as he tries to cover it up with a nonchalant scoff, "Why?"

Yuuji stares at him for a minute in disbelief before stating what he believes to be the obvious.

"'Cause she's hot and yells at us all the time?"

Megumi scoffs in distaste again. He fiddles with the rings on his right hand, pretending to be careless about a situation he's anything but careful about.

Sensing his roommate's off response, Itadori's quick to add. "Unless you wanna call dibs before I do?"

"Dibs?" Megumi groans.

"Yeah, like claiming—"

"I know what dibs means," he interrupts before Yuuji can dig his own grave any further. He slumps into the palm of his hand as his elbow rests atop the kitchen counter, "I just think that's shitty."

Yuuji, knowing Megumi well enough to sense that he's hit a sour spot, nods and backs off. He joins him at the counter again, oblivious as he grabs another cookie to chomp on. With cautious eyes and a mouth filled with chocolate, he speaks up.

"…So you don't wanna call dibs?"

.….

It's Saturday, almost Sunday, according to the cat clock on your wall.

You'd kept your word. Beneath a few blankets and practically one with your couch cushions, you're spending your weekend doing exactly what you'd anticipated.

The television continues to play the stream of episodes you're catching up on. With your second glass of red in hand, you tune in and out of the segments when the good parts catch your attention. It feels good to relax, to do nothing and to be nothing behind tipsy and fatigued eyes.

A sudden knock on your door puts a minor wedge in your plans. Sitting up with a groan, you whimper beneath your breath but move to answer it regardless.

Maybe you forgot to tip your delivery driver when he dropped off your takeout a few hours ago and he's back for revenge. Maybe it's your drunk friends, showing up to ruin your night and attempting to persuade you to join them on their foolish escapades. Maybe it's someone with the wrong address.

Locking eyes with the visitor at your door, it's Megumi. Maybe you're drunker than you thought.

His delicate eyes match yours when he scarcely smiles, "Hi."

Your eyes go to the items in his hands — a few beer bottles, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, and a deck of cards.

Giggling to yourself, you stare at him, "I think you got off a floor too early."

Megumi laughs, and when you're able to get a good look at him, you can tell he's a bit tipsy, too. His shoulders aren't as tense as they usually are, he's still broad, but a lot looser now. His eyes are glossed over with a haze you're sure yours mimic. He scratches his nose awkwardly before opening his mouth.

"I—" he cuts himself off, eyes darting to the items in his arms before returning to you, "wanted to see you."

"Me?" you're unable to stop yourself from nearly gawking.

He laughs again, not obnoxiously but easy and natural. "Yes, you. Does someone else live here?"

"Don't you have plans with your friends?" you question, still not letting him inside.

"They're upstairs," he nods, "and no, I'm not here to force you to come up."

At his words, he can see your visible relief. Opening the door fully and letting him come inside, you relish in reassurance, "Good, I really didn't wanna be fake nice right now."

A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he sets his belongings on your coffee table. "Fake nice?" he prompts.

"I mean, not that it's fake, it's just like—customer servicey. Y'know? Being kind to people in a way that's not ingenuine but—"

"Exhausting?" he finishes for you, and he's weirdly more talkative with a bit of alcohol in his veins. "Yeah, I feel that."

You sprawl onto your couch and he takes the seat next to you but refrains from leaning back as far. He watches you graze on your glass of wine, your legs crossed childishly as you gaze up at him.

"Are you like that with me?" he puts on a brave face. "Fake nice?"

He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding when you shake your head. After a hearty sip from your drink, you talk dramatically with your hands.

"Am I even real nice to you? I've kinda been a bitch since the day I banged on your door."

Megumi shakes his head as he laughs, which in return allows you to do the same. He relaxes a bit further into the warmth of your cushions, lolling his head to look at you as he opens himself a beer.

"I don't think so," he shrugs. "You're not wrong for complaining about us being understandably annoying."

Things lighten up as time passes. The night gets a bit blurry but it's fun, carefree. The two of you sit on your tiny couch, passing a bag of pretzels back and forth, and playing stupid card games that bring out your competitive sides and don't have real rules.

Minutes bleed into hours and you're not sure what time it is when it's late enough for Megumi to start yawning. Enjoying a comfortable silence between the two of you, his voice is temperate when he asks.

"Why didn't you want to hang out with us?"

He almost seems mournful, and a part of you feels guilty as his eyes blink heavily down on you. You exhale, readjusting your legs and throwing your head back.

"Seemed like a friend group thing," is what eventually crawls up from your throat. "Felt weird being the only one who didn't know everyone, y'know?"

He considers before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. But I would've been with you."

His stare feels sharp, like he can see right through your facade and into parts of you you've buried deep a long time ago. You hate it and love it, want to drown yourself in it and voluntarily inhale until your own demise.

Unable to hold his stare, you look into your almost empty glass, swishing around the bleeding wine and ice that remains at the bottom.

"Well, you're here with me now, anyway."

Megumi continues to admire you without words. Pointing an accusatory finger back at him, you nudge his leg with your foot. "So, why aren't you up there?"

"Cause you didn't show up," he doesn't hesitate to respond. Almost as if he regrets his eagerness but still stands by the sentiment, he clears his throat before adding, "Was weirdly hoping you would, but—"

He doesn't finish his sentence, trailing off with a lame shrug.

His eyes look greener when they're a bit more watery. Fuck it.

Slowly, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time to assess his reactions, you move to crawl into his lap. You sense a difference in his breathing pattern, but other than that, he makes no move to pull away from you. He lets you carefully straddle his legs before getting comfortable atop him, when he places his hands on the plush between your hips and thighs.

Leaning in, giving him any chance to reject you, stop you, hate you, you continue to keep his eye as your lips just barely brush against his. He does the same, refusing to look away from you as if he'll never get this opportunity again. As if he wants to take a picture and relish it forever.

"Stop me," you bite through a hushed whisper, daring him to put an end to this before it begins.

His breath is lulled against your own when he whispers, "No."

You kiss him, and he kisses you back. It starts simple, like you're learning all about one another's creases and folds. Between shaky inhales and nervous hands, you lean into one another's touch, savoring every taste and sound you can manage.

Megumi feels brave, and on one particular gasp from you, he prudently skims his tongue across your lower lip before slipping it inside. Rubbing against your own with a fervent need, you open your jaw further for him to have whatever he wants. Between your increased breathing, soft moans, and greedy hands, the two of you slowly become messy and desperate for one another.

Hips wantonly moving against his thighs, he flexes instinctually as you begin to grind yourself down on him. He meets your movements, half hard as he presses into you, both of you whimpering at the new-found friction. The two of you reduce to whiney teenagers, practically swallowing one another whole and dry-humping fully clothed before you open your eyes to look at him.

Megumi, eyes shut and whimpering into your neck, is too good for this — deserves more than this. He's kind, respectful, funny (though you'd never tell him that to his face), and you're both drunk. It feels so fucking good, but it isn't right. It's not supposed to happen like this.

Slowing your movements, you pull back to see his face. Dazed, he opens his pretty green eyes to look up at you like you hold the stars and sun in your hands.

"We shouldn't," you pant, brushing your bangs back and catching your breath. "We should stop."

Megumi, confused and hurt, but instantly moving you off of his lap with a gentle hold, nods in agreement. "Right, right, we're — we're drunk," he whispers, almost ashamed of everything that just happened.

Before you can say anything, he's readjusting himself and standing up. A bit more sober than he was a few minutes ago, he's straightening himself out and making his way to your door.

"Sorry—" he keeps repeating himself, "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He's gone before you can reassure him that there's nothing to apologize for.

.....

You don't hear from him the next morning — or afternoon.

When night falls, you've given up that there's any hope of saving whatever it was the two of you had going.

Wanting to drown yourself in your own sorrows, you stare at the text from your friend before you and weigh your options.

Stay in, cry yourself to a babbling mess, and finish your show

Answer their text and agree to go to this party with them

Thinking back to last night and how badly you fucked that one up, you decide the first choice is off-limits. Hoping you don't regret your decision, it's not long before you're looking decent enough to lock your door behind you and start the commute to your friends.

The walk isn't terrible, being ten minutes to your friend's place and an additional fifteen to whoever's party you're attending. On the west side of campus, you can hear the muffled music and drunken squeals of the attendees from down the street.

The party itself is fine, nothing special. The lime seltzer in your hand is still half full when you stray away from your friends in search of the bathroom.

There's a line formed down the hallway of drunk girls laughing, couples swallowing one another's faces, and a single guy slumped against the wall in his own world. Taking a second glance at the end of the line, you recognize the lone drunk as Yuuji.

Gently tapping his shoulder, his eyes blink open and he's nearly crushing you to death when wrapping his arms around you in excitement. He lets his animation get the best of him, lifting you in the air and spinning you once before he realizes he can't handle another. Leaning on the wall to steady both you and him, you're smiling at his sloppy yet endearing enthusiasm.

"What are you doing here!?" he beams, swaying back and forth and reeking of cheap booze.

"My friends dragged me out of the house," you tease before noticing truly how incoherent he is. Your nose crinkles with worry, "You fucked up?"

He can barely stand up straight, eyes unable to focus in one spot for too long as he blearily looks at you before skimming his body against the wall again. He's talking in slow gibberish, something about having one too many and wanting to talk to this pretty girl from his linguistics lecture before she leaves.

"Hey," you gently grab his jaw to steady his gaze. "Did you come here alone?"

Yuuji doesn't answer, or rather he does but it's nonsensical and impossible to go off of. You sigh, quickly scanning the suddenly overwhelming crowd around you before grabbing his arm and speaking kindly, yet reflective of a mother.

"Let me take you back to our building, okay?" you prompt him to stand up straight and follow your lead. "I'm going back anyways, I'll walk with you."

Yuuji's eyes light up with excitement at the thought of a journey with his neighbor friend, and it's not long before he's dragging his feet over one another and using your hand as a guide to the door.

On your walk home, you ache for the comfort of your warm bed, the feeling of taking these god-forsaken heels off, and Megumi's forgiveness. You wonder if you'll see him when dropping off Yuuji at his door — you pathetically hope so.

However, Yuuji didn't show up to this party alone.

Megumi, who had been grabbing him a drink and caught a glimpse of you two, saw the entire thing without context — Yuuji's hands around your waist, you caressing his jaw, the two of you leaving abruptly together.

He downs both his and Yuuji's drinks with ease.

..…

Megumi wasn't home.

Disappointed but relieved to see Yuuji safe in the comfort of his apartment, you help him collapse on his couch.

Turning him on his side and making him drink at least two cups of water before throwing a blanket over him and leaving a note, you close the door behind you with a heavy heart.

A few minutes later, you're a bit more at ease. Feet now ridden of silly high heels and skin against the soft cotton of your bed, you find yourself flooded with thoughts of Megumi.

You wake up to a constant thud on your front door. Picking up your phone, it's almost two in the morning and you're not even sure you're not dreaming when you're feet carry you to the blistering noise of a fist on your door.

Swinging it open with half-closed eyes, you're more than prepared to fight a murder charge to get whoever the hell this is to leave you alone. But before you can curse them with everything in you, you realize it's Megumi.

"Hi," he whispers. It's a start contrast from the violent banging on your door he was responsible for two seconds ago, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

"Hi," you respond, suddenly more than awake and just as breathless. "You okay?"

"Are you sleeping with Yuuji?"

Your heart skips exactly two beats before you can accurately comprehend his question. It's then when you notice that he's drunk, disgustingly so. You're not sure how it wasn't the first thing you noticed - but looking at his green eyes again, you give yourself some grace.

"… What?" is all you can pathetically muster.

"Itadori," he slurs. His face is pale with hurt and the collar of his shirt is all wrinkled.

You can't help but roll your eyes, "Yeah, I know who Yuuji is, but why the hell are you asking me that?"

"Because you shouldn't be," he declares through a heavy tongue and spinning head. You think you hear his voice crack with emotion when he continues, "I don't want you to sleep with him."

You're sure you're still dreaming as you take in his words. Since the moment you knocked on the door one floor above you, sleeping with Yuuji has never crossed your mind. You've been far too busy focusing on thinking about the man in front of you, who's wasted beyond belief and accusing you of something that not only doesn't make sense but hurts a bit.

He fumbles on his words, swallowing dryly and spiraling.

"You shouldn't sleep with him just because he walks around shirtless and invites you to hang out with us."

Your eyebrows pull downwards with what Megumi knows is hurt. He can't stop himself from talking or spewing nonsensical things just because he can.

Your voice is shaky when you plea, "Megumi, what?"

"I mean—he's my best friend, he's great," he throws his hands up to surrender the truth. "But we played video games and—and we kissed. And you're always looking at me with those eyes and—"

"Megumi," your voice comes tired now, cold. "You're drunk."

"You left with him. And you were whispering in his ear and touching his arm." He frowns, feeling sick just thinking about it again. He shakes the nightmare from his head when repeating his prior question.

"Are you sleeping with him?" he asks again, more accusatory this time around.

He watches your eyes fill with water, but it's not long-lived before you're blinking away any sign of weakness and cementing your walls up again.

"If you didn't notice," you spit with venom, "your friend is drunk off of his ass. I walked him home since he could barely stand on his own."

As if you're speaking another language, Megumi dumbly gapes at your confession.

"You—what?"

You press with ice in your words, "Walked him home. He's passed out on your couch right now."

"Oh." Megumi hadn't returned to his apartment before coming to yours. He'd walked home from the shitty party with one destination in mind, immediately talking the elevator to the fifth floor and finding your familiar floor.

He feels stupid, nauseous with guilt, and god, does his head hurt. His heart hurts too when you scoff and cross your arms in defense.

"Wanna go back to the part where you were practically calling me a slut?"

He cringes, "No, no god no, that's not what I was trying to—"

You don't give him the luxury of explaining himself. Turning your back and slamming the door, you take away his chance of redemption.

You sound unrecognizable when you tell him, "Go to fucking bed, Fushiguro."

.….

The birds outside of your window remind you that it's Sunday, and the open book on your desk reminds you that not only do you have class tomorrow, but you have an assignment due before midnight.

Memories of last night's conversation — if you could even call it that — with Megumi make you feel queazy. Nothing happened in the way you'd wanted. It all just spiraled out of control, like water slipping through a cracked ceiling, you'd just watched it leak without remorse.

The continued chirping outside reminds you that it's quiet, something you should use to your advantage. A light in this mess of a pathetic story.

You'll study, you decide. You'll grab a quick coffee from the cafe across the street and get some actual work done. Something you should've done a long time ago, something you’d ignored that ended up with this this heartbreak.

Not even ten minutes later, you're decent enough to slide your shoes on and grab your house keys. Opening the door into the hallway, you're met with familiar eyes.

Megumi looks disheveled, sitting with his knees up against the wall of your hallway. At your abrupt opening of the front door, he's quick to stand up and dust his pants off from the grime of the hallway carpet. You notice he has a paper bouquet of pinks and blues in his hand and an exhausted frown on his face.

When he looks at you, he can almost feel the air leaving your lungs as your stomach drops.

The first words you say to him are softer than he expects, than he thinks he deserves, but still carried by a look of disapproval.

"Were you here all night?" your lip turns with disgust.

"No—" he spews too quickly. Seeing your expression that clearly reads disbelief, he slows himself down. Taking a deep breath, he repeats himself with a bit more certainty. "No, I've been here since like, seven maybe?"

"Why?"

His hand trembles in a way he hopes you have the respect to ignore as he moves to give you the bouquet. "Because I'm sorry," his voice is steady, like he's been practicing in the mirror.

Choosing to make him work for it, your eyes flicker to the flowers unimpressed before finding his face again.

"For?" you cruelly push him further.

But Megumi's determined to meet your forces just as equally. His voice gains confidence as he speaks clearly, "For panicking and assuming the worst last night. I was drunk, but that's not an excuse. It was a douchebag thing to do."

Admiring how your face softens at his apology but still carries creased lines of worry, Megumi half expects your response.

"And?"

This is the part he's a bit unprepared for.

"And for leaving that night," his volume dips with the confession, eyes wanting to find comfort in the floor so badly but refusing to leave your own as he tries and tries and tries to fix this, "I..."

His lips move before he can think twice about his words, "I thought it was what you wanted."

His confession cracks something inside of you, like nails digging crescents into raw skin. Slowly, you gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates but follows when you move towards the couch, the same couch you'd straddled him on two nights prior. It looks different in the daylight.

Megumi's careful with each step, as if he's walking on eggshells, when he slowly sits beside you on the couch. Placing the bouquet on your table, he moves as if you're a predator, as if he'll make one wrong move and you'll snap, lurching at him and sinking your talons into his neck. You hate how it makes you feel.

Your words surprise the both of you when they eventually come. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. I wanted you to stay I just—felt bad."

Felt bad? Megumi's mind goes numb at the realization. Felt bad for him? Like when you do a good deed to cancel out a bad one? Did you kiss him that night because you pitied him?

Before his mind runs itself further into the worst-case scenario, he's brought back to reality as you continue.

"We were drunk, and I didn't want that to be how it happened y'know?"

He starts at you blankly, "It?" He lamely asks.

This time, it's your voice that weakens with shame. He watches you fiddle with your fingers, the same ones he remembers feeling in his hair and on his skin. The ones he wants to feel again.

"Felt like I was coming onto you, and you deserved better than that," you eventually reveal softly, correcting yourself with certainty. "Deserve better than that."

And he feels stupid. God, does Megumi feel stupid. All this time, he'd been thinking you regretted the why of the situation, kissing him like you did. He'd never stopped to think about the fact of how you did it. Never thought you'd be so inclined to consider his wishes.

You think he regrets it, and that is the last thing he wants you to believe.

Taking a risk, Megumi lays a gentle palm on your thigh. He does so slowly, giving you a chance to revolt and bite his hand clean off the bone. You don't so he relaxes his hand.

It's not sexual, not desperate and needy like how it was the other night. It's calm. comforting. Another way for him to say I'm still here, aren't I?

"I'm not great with words," he starts, "but I was very much into it. I need you to know that. You didn't—do anything I didn't want."

Softly and ignoring the criticism from the voice in your head for once, you nod.

You recognize the familiar pull of his lips when he softly grins. "Think it's pretty obvious now, but in case it's not," he leans into this whole communicating thing, "I really like being around you."

He thinks his heart grows a size when you weakly smile back at him, "You like being around me?"

He shrugs, laughing at your sarcasm. "Around you, with you. I guess I just like you, really."

You raise your eyebrows, challenging his statement, "Are you still drunk?"

"Fuck no."

You hum shortly. "Hungover?"

"Disgustingly so," he grimaces at the reminder of how nauseous he is.

"Thinking clearly?"

"Never really around you, but clear as I can be."

It's soft and sweet, and this is how you wanted it to be. Naturally, as if you're both magnets being pulled to one another, Megumi is carefully guiding you into his lap as you're naturally making yourself at home in his hold.

The position almost exactly mimics the one you'd found yourself in on Friday night, but this time, it's different. It feels different — golden instead of red and light with a newfound meaning.

With gentle eyes and slight nods from each of you, you kiss once more. His mouth moves the same, eager yet graceful as he leans into you. No wandering hands or drunken hiccups, you feel one another smile into the kiss until it is all giggles and teeth.

"Y'know, if you wanted to ask me out," you pull away from him, accusatory with an underlying teasing, "you should've just asked like a normal person instead of accusing me of sleeping with your friend."

Megumi groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in your neck. You feel the heat of his cheeks when he sighs.

"Yeah, that wasn't my finest moment."

Kisses are stolen and silence is shared until he yawns you remember how awful he must still feel from drinking so much. Crawling off of his lap, you ignore the butterflies in your stomach whines he whines at the loss of your weight.

"Want anything?" you call out as you walk towards the kitchenette. "I have Advil and a bagel with your name on it."

Megumi hums at the thought, not confirming or denying the offer, as his eyes remain locked in on you in a blissful comfort.

Your voice becomes more distant as you turn the corner, "I'll even give you those eyes I know you like so much."

A muffled sound of humiliation can be heard from the couch, "God, please forget I said that."

Putting the bagel in the toaster and reaching up to the medicine cabinet, you laugh carelessly.

"Never."

…..

Yuuji wakes up with a throbbing headache and an acidic burning in the back of his throat.

He groans, turning on his side before realizing that — he's not in his bed. With blurry vision and sweaty hands fumbling to survey the environment around him, he feels for his phone. The screen is far too bright and completely overridden of missed calls and texts, reading a mocking 2:14 PM when he groans.

When yelling Megumi's name a handful of times doesn't work (it usually does), he opens his Find My Friends app and tracks his roommate. Seeing his icon appear right next to his own while ironically hearing your echoing laughter ring from upstairs, he laughs.

Before he closes his eyes again and deals with a hangover from hell, he sends Megumi a text before tossing his phone across the room.

Ur welcome for not actually calling dibs.

#ive looked at this too long and need it out of my face #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut

1K notes · View notes

venmondiese · 10 months ago

Text

Stress Relieving Purposes

For @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge, again thank you so much!!

Trope is friends with benefits and the AU is College AU. The prompts are 23: “this is a one time thing” and 129: “i can’t hold back anymore”

Summary: Exam week is probably one of the worst things humankind has to experience in college, so you have a brilliant idea for you and your bestfriend; get laid. For that, a study group might help you get closer to those you wanna get with. but fate is always a funny thing

✧Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v sex, masturbation (m), (kind of?) sex video, car sex, praising kink, degradation kink, dom/sub undertones, oral sex (m receiving), ✧Word Count: 10.5k ✧taglist: @qyburnsghost ✧˖°⊹♡ @cupidelocke ⋆⁺₊⋆ ✧Note: I am so happy and excited, because i loved the trope, au and prompt given to me. I spent days thinking how to make it perfect (i wrote like 4 versions of this, lol) and i am proud of the results. Yes, I went insane and wrote exactly 10529 words, but hey, who is counting?

Aemond Targaryen was always an unconventional man. Even so, an unconventional friend. Maybe you spoke too much, always an extrovert, and he was more reserved. You were always admired by many, and he was always repealing the simps.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Aegon’s party?” You ask almost offended by him, as she comes to sit by his side. He rolls his eye as he turns to look at you.

“I thought you were in Epistemology by now”

“I was” you say to him “But do I care? no. I care more for why you didn’t tell me, Cregan Stark was there” You say to him and patting his shoulder as if wanting him to realise the seriousness of the situation. “Cregan Stark!” You repeat in a low tone.

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you...” he says trying to refocus on the paper in front of him, both hands in his temple as he tries to ignore you, yet you appear in his good eye peripheral view.

“Come on, why didn’t you invite me? I thought we were friends” you say looking at him like a wet puppy.

“Do not start-”

“I’ll ask Aegon to do another” you say quickly “He’ll let me go”

“He’ll be the one to try to get in your pants” Aemond says, not looking at you. “And you need someone to present to you to Jace, so he can present Cregan to you. Aegon will do no best than to embarrass you”

You hum, as he knows your intentions well. He was your best friend since the start of college, and you two… worked together. He had your back, and you had his; he heard you ramble about your weekly crush and you heard about the books he read. Of course a friendship between you both was good, as you have managed to get along and become close. Yet, Aemond could not deny the sexual tension sometimes.

As if you didn’t catch him looking at your boobs. As if he didn’t catch you looking at his body in the gym.

“So go with me to convince him” you beg him.

“I am not in mood for parties”

“Because of Alys?” She asks, sighing and rolling her eyes “Get over her, it’s like the twentieth time you two broke up.”

“Seventh time, and it’s not that” he corrects you, turning his head to look at you, and you roll your eyes.

“It is that, I know you” You say looking at him and she takes his right hand and she inspects it “Aha!” You turned his hand to his face “The body of the crime. You have been picking your fingernails” You expose him so easily.

“It was one time, and it is because I have a damn exam Monday that my brain cannot seem to want to study” He says, sighing, and showing you the papers. He looks stressed, like the little eye bags under his eyes tell you enough.

You look at him, and you press your lips together. “Then you need a distraction, like.. Going to a party?”

“Absolutely not” he says, rolling his eyes. “University is for study. Not for parties” He says, looking at you almost scolding you.

“Come on, what did you do when you needed to relieve stress from the last exam season?”

“Alys” he responds with a smirk, which makes you gag. “And things with her that you don’t wanna know.”

“First of all, ew” You say looking at him as you are basically seated on the weirdest position by his side, your elbow resting on the table as you are turned to him, keeping the conversation alive. “Second of all, Alys? Really? You could go to a party and..”

“No parties”

You remain silent a bit as he starts to refocus his attention on his papers, but you can’t just keep quiet, it seems.

“Then get laid”

“I swear to the gods-”

“But think about it!” You say, and you can hear the ´shhh´somewhere in the library, so you sigh “Think about it” You repeat almost in a whisper “Let’s say, I present to you… Floris Baratheon, or anyone else from my friend group. You present me Cregan Stark, and we both get laid. You then, wake up tomorrow with a renewed energy to study to your political philosophy exam, and you get a perfect score as you always did… before her”

“Do you truly think getting laid will help me study? You are so delusional” He shakes his head as he searches for his last essay to have something to study.

“Ouch, rude.” You state “But it will help. She broke your heart!” Your whisper is loud, as if scolding him. “And you are miserable for it, if you don’t believe me, ask your fingers; if they are not too busy bleeding” You add sarcastically.

He squints his eyes at you, and he sighs. You were insufferable, in more than one way. But most of the time, you were right. In an odd and annoying way, you were right. He wasn’t concentrating, at all. No matter how hard he forced himself, it wasn’t working.

“It is clouding your mind. You have to get rid of the problem by root; you either let your frustrations go away, or we just gonna have to kill Alys” You say shrugging.

“Absolutely not.” He says and he rolls his eyes.

He looks at how you really want this, and he sighs. Maybe he could do something that could benefit you both.

“Maybe I could invite them to our study session” He says, almost instantly regretting his choice, but you seem too excited to care.

“Oh… That’s brilliant!” You say excited and you lean to kiss his cheek in excitement, and you lean back.

“I’ll invite Jace, and tell him to bring his friend group. The northerner will be there” He added.

“That is brilliant, truly brilliant” You repeat, and he has to roll his eye at how amazed you seem by his ideas. “We get to study, and then get laid.”

“It’s a study group, not an orgy” He clarifies.

“I know, imbecile. I mean, study… and then after, Cregan and I go to your room…”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT” he clarifies very quickly, and someone also shushes him. “It's going to be in Aegon’s house. I am not risking my own home for people to come, besides, Vhagar hates visits”

“Whatever, it is so exciting!” You say clapping happily as he collects all his papers and books, and the same student at your side tries to shush you again. “I’ll invite Floris and you Cregan”

“You just want to get laid” Aemond says in a sigh.

“You do too” You say, smirking. “For stress relieving purposes”

The thing that Aemond finds annoying, apart from your obnoxious talking, is how indecisive you were sometimes. You would worry and obsess over the smallest details out of control. And it probably bothered him because he was the same.

Much hours later, he was sitting on your bed, as he checked his phone. The photo of him and Alys was still one of the last things in his gallery, and he often looked at it, looking at her smile, at her eyes, and how her hand rested on his leather jacket. He looked happy; as happy as Aemond can look. She has her typical red lipstick, and her hands with the perfect manicure that he liked when scratched his hair.

He sighs, and he bites his lip without knowing what to feel, he hates her, he misses her. But he knows it is for the best to let her go.

“Do not tell me you are looking at her photos” You say on the other side of your dorm, as you apply the last parts of your makeup.

“Can’t I miss her?” He asks you.

“You can, and you will. She was your girlfriend.” The little shrug and how you look away knows you are not teasing him as usual. “You weren’t on the same page”

“How can someone… old can be so… indecisive and not know what they want?”

“Old but immature” You say, rolling your eyes. “I am not one to hate women, you know it is not my style, but I swear, that woman..:”

“I know” He says, turning off his phone, and he turns his head to look at you. “Do you think I'm over that so fast?" he sighs, feeling a little bit of relief as she is serious about the matter. Even if she always teased, she was a good listener when needed. "I don't know what is wrong with me. I miss her, and every time I see a woman I compare them to her" he mutters rubbing his eyes a bit.

“I have been there” You say as you keep applying some blush on your cheek, looking at yourself in the mirror as you keep the conversation flowing. “It is not the end of the world. It sounds mean, but… Nobody died, the world didn’t explode…”

“I know” he murmurs, and he sighs. “But I miss her” he insists.

“Oh, yeah” You roll your eyes as he clearly didn’t hear anything you said at all, turning your head to face him. You smirk almost mischievously as your eyebrows raise a bit “Poor Aemond, missing his sugar mommy”

“She was not my sugar mommy”

“She was the grandma to your Aaron Taylor Joy. The Elvis to your Pricilla, the… Woody Allen to your… I don’t know the name of his stepdaughter.”

Aemond has to laugh at that, because as ridiculous you were, you always made him laugh with your stupid things. It makes him feel better, because he is always serious, and you are so unserious.

“Shut up” he says laughing a bit, and he sighs, feeling slightly better.

“Point is, she is much older and you are much… inexperienced in the field.” You say with a nod “And you are far better not having to live up to her expectations” His hum is the only thing he does, and at least you know he heard you.

“I thought you liked her. When we were together you always were friendly, sharing makeup and stuff” He murmurs.

“I am always going to be a friend of your girlfriends, and a hater when they are your exes.”

You stand up after finishing your makeup, trying to look tidy and clean before the mirror, and you accommodate your hair so it looks fine. It is a bit endearing how you try to look as best as possible, as you reach for perfume before applying it from head to toe.

You look amazing, he has to admit. You wear a green skirt with a black tie front top, very revealing in his opinion, but it was still cute. You even took the time to search for a headband to match it all, which made him chuckle a bit. Even your makeup noted the effort you put into this outfit, and he knew very well what you wanted; to get laid.

“So, I thought that maybe the heels were too much, but these boots are really..”

“We are just going over to study… Wait, are you ovulating?” He asks, looking at the date on his phone, and he looks at you.

“Maybe? Are you asking me that because I wanna get laid?” You say unsure why he asks. “Shut up” you murmur amused at the idea.

He knows you are, for sure. He wasn’t too sure what the effect of ovulation was on women, but for some reason, they were always hotter in those days. At least, you were right now; your figure was well defined, he could even swear your breasts were rounder and firmer. His fingers tap his own thigh as he thinks deep about it, as you ramble about your outfit.

“I can see your ass” He says, looking at you.

“That’s the whole point” You add moving your top a little lower, so your boobs are practically spilling out. “To make him drool for me”

“In a study group…”

“If I like a man, I wanna see him hard just from the sight of me” You clarify as you accommodate your hair.

Aemond is not listening to you. You move slightly as you look in the mirror, and the way you lean to make sure your tits look decent, tempting but not obscene. He has a good view of it, your tits are definitely different. Is it because you are ovulating?

Because you look absolutely gorgeous, showing skin yet it isn’t so indecent. Suggestive? Yes. But it doesn’t make you look bad. It is reasonable. Why do you look so good, though?

“I think I know what is missing” You say as you walk to search for one of your favourite earrings.

As you lean to grab your earring, you quickly put them on and you nod at yourself; you look good. You like it, you feel confident enough to go to a man and flirt.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, feeling Aemond’s eyes bore into your skin, and you look at his reflection in the mirror, and he looks back at you.

“Like what?” He asks in a raspy tone as he accommodates in the bed, sitting with open legs as he plays with his phone in his hands.

“I don’t know” you shrug. “Is it so bad?”

“Horribly bad” he says, trying to tease you but it sounds strangled and you nod satisfied.

As you finish some touches on your outfit, you look at him and nod, “ I am satisfied with that”

He hums, using his phone once again and seeing the image of Alys that was still there when he unlocked his own phone. She was radiant, of course. She was always so… Convincing. But for now, at least, it isn't her who he lusts after. It feels a bit like a betrayal, even if he wasn’t hers and she wasn’t his anymore. Yet… he does not feel guilty.

“One would say that at the seventh time you would have learned something” You say teasingly, and you are quick to move and grab his phone from your hands. “To delete the pictures”

“Give it back” he says trying to grab his phone, quickly standing up and moving his hands, following yours as you try to dodge his attempts. “It isn’t funny”

“It only hurts you, you look like a wet puppy-”

“I don’t want to let her go”

“You must” you insist and he has both arms at the side of your waist, his hands trying to grab his phone behind your back. “Let me delete them. You clearly can’t”

“No”

“You need it”

“It is the only thing I have left” He insists, a bit defeated by it all, he was stubborn (As you also were)

“Trust me” you say softly, looking at him with your kind eyes. Kinder than his ever were. “Trust me” you repeat looking at him.

He sighs, his body against yours and his arms grabbing your wrists. He lets go of his firm grip, but he doesn’t move. He looks at you, with deep eyes and lost in thought. Maybe too close, for your opinion, since his chest practically presses against yours and his breath hits your own face.

“I don’t want to be here when it happens” he murmurs.

“Wait in the car then” you say looking at him. “I’ll delete most of them. Won’t take me more than five minutes”

“Don’t inscribe me in a essosi gay porn site or something, my mum would kill me if she ever-” he says looking at her with slight worry.

“Go” you insist, taking his phone in his hands.

His lockscreen was a picture of Vhagar, the little grumpy thing frowning as much as a cat can, even if it is adorable it was still just a quick change from the Alys wallpaper.

Aemond is probably the most organised person in your friend group,so when you enter his gallery you see all the carpets with photos.

Alys pops up first, as her name started with the first letter in the alphabet. You look at the photo in the cover of the file, and you roll your eyes at the photo. You press the file and it is all photos of her, some with him, some alone. You press one, of where he seems all smiles and she kisses his cheek, and then you select all of those and you sigh.

It was even hard for you, it felt a bit wrong. But you just press delete all the files, and then all 148 photos and videos are gone. You watch the album disappear and back the rest of the albums.

There was one of you.

You frown a bit confused, and there are a lot of moments with you that he organised. You can see some of the photos of the plates you eat together and you posing at the background, ruining his photos (as you like to call it)

There are some selfies, and some photos of you, totally unaware of his doing, you have to giggle a bit, because probably half of them you looked terribly, but you knew he was a gentleman enough to delete those ones

And there is the video.

You do not recognise what it could be at first, the photo of the preview was oddly just the ceiling and the top of his silver hair. You frown confused, because it was mildly recent and you do not remember a video. Aemond wasn’t a fan of videos either, he preferred the immortality of photos.

You hesitantly press it, and the video starts as Aemond sat on his couch. Was it his apartment? Yes. By his clothes, you knew that he came right after the gym. He was wearing that tight black shirt and his sweatpants.

“Tis’ stupid” he murmurs as he sits, and he sighs. You see how he accommodates the camera on the coffee table in front of the couch, and he takes a bit to get it at the right angle. You don’t understand much, as the angle only shows his lower body part, from his torso to his knees.

Once you understand, he is already lowering his sweatpants to his knees, and he sighs. You freeze in place as his very prominent erection comes to light, almost jumping once free from his pants, and he is quick to grab it with his hands, just taunting it softly.

“I’m really horny” he says and he chuckles a bit, embarrassed, you could tell. He was a bit awkward as he presented his erection to the camera. “For you, really…” He admits in a low murmur.

You really don’t see what happens with his hand off camera, but he then starts to slowly caress his erection. That man, your best friend. And you are paralysed looking at that. As he whimpers and masturbates for a camera, his pale skin from his thighs and abdomen showing, and you could see the ring with dragon scales that he never takes off.

“That’s it” he murmurs in a low tone, almost muffled by the microphone as he leans back on the sofa, showing you more of his chest and part of his chin, as he licks his lips. His hands stroke his cock softly, as you can see his right hand goes down to fondle his balls, as the palm of his left hand moves to the tip of his dick and starts moving around it.

It’s… weird, to say the least. You never saw, or thought about him this way. Okay. Scratch that. You never had entertained the idea of him doing this. The idea that Aemond… could be hot. Of course you knew he was hot, but it was different seeing him masturbate as he whimpers and fucks his hand for a camera. And it was… strange. The pleasure accumulating on your belly as you heard him curse. It felt… betraying. Somehow.

“Fuck, Alys-”

You instantly pause the video at that. The name of her is like a bucket of cold water thrown at you, and you snap back into reality. You can feel your cheeks red, and embarrassment floods your senses. Almost trembling, you close all applications and then sigh.

He must have organised it wrongly. You are sure of that. Maybe he meant to delete it? And accidentally ended on your carpet? Weird, but somehow ended there. He must have not meant it, of course… It wasn’t like a tribute to you, probably meant for Alys, since he obviously moaned her name and talked to the camera as if putting on a show.

Ew. Alys really managed to convince the reserved Aemond Targaryen to do this? You are actually quite intrigued and a bit impressed by her.

Once you enter the car, Aemond is resting his head back on his seat, and he barely opens his eyes to look at you, barely turning his head to watch you.

“And?”

“I successfully did the task. And now you joined the Night’s Watch, so don’t worry about that”

“Ha ha” he says, taking his phone back, without more suspicion he just puts it in his pocket. You blink a bit looking at his arms and his lap, and you turn your head to the road.

You two stand in silence as the short drive to Aegon’s apartment, and since Aemond gets brother’s privileges, he totally uses Aegon’s parking spot.

“And his car?” You ask, confused as he parks in the place that clearly has an ‘22F’ and not the one for visits.

“You think that he still has a car? He probably already crashed it while drunk”

“To be fair, I didn’t know what I expected” you shrugged “And I suppose that his career…”

“Yep. He dropped out of Graphic design.” Aemond says without much care, since everyone was used to Aegon just dropping out of college each week. He turned off the engine and looked at you. “So… Cregan Stark”

“Yes, Cregan Stark” you say, as it is your main goal for tonight.

“What is your plan?” He asks leaving the keys in his pocket as he turns to look at you still, the car was off but you two stayed there.

“Well, I go there and I greet him”

“Uh huh…”

“No, no, your nephew. Yeah, so you present me to Jace. And you ask him to present me to Cregan”

“But… what about the impressions?” He looks at you expectantly “You don’t want to be the weird friend from my best friend’s uncle”

“Well, I can’t just… go there and throw myself at him.”

“Okay” He says resting his hands on his thighs, and he taps them “Pretend I am Cregan”

“That is so lame…”

“We did that when I wanted to talk to Alys, remember that you pretended to be her?” He says with a smirk, and he looks at you with a nod.

“Look where it got us” You murmur and he rolls his eyes “Fine, okay, I’ll… stay there”

You step out of the car and sigh. Luckily, there was no one else in the parking lot to judge your weird tradition. You play with the door handle and pretend that you are truly going to talk to Cregan Stark.

“Hey” You say sitting and looking at him.

“Hey” Cregan would say. You move your hair a bit and you smile a bit.

You present yourself and extend your hand, and Cregan would shake it. He was surely very polite, you both knew. So you continue.

“I just saw you from afar and wanted to talk to you” You start saying, as your fingers play with the edge of your skirt as you look at your lap. “Like, outside from the study session, of course…”

“You have to look at him” Aemond murmurs, stepping out of character.

Right. “You surely have seen me in some of Jace’s parties, and in some classes” You add.

“Oh, yeah. I remember his Sevenmas party” Cregan would say, and crossing his arms.

“Yeah! You remember…” Your voice is more light, and you would look at Cregan. “I had a good first impression from you”

“From accidentally throwing Jace’s Sevenmas tree downstairs?” Aemond Cregan would laugh, and you laugh a bit as he leans back on his seat, his hands in his pockets. He is attractive, and you press your thighs together as you accommodate in your seat as well, your body turning to face him even more as your attraction increases.

“It was a bit funny, but it wasn’t… It was a human mistake. I thought it was cute” You say with a thin smile.

“You helped to clean that mess, if I recall” He would point out.

You nod. Even if the real Cregan doesn’t know that, because he was not aware of what happened after he threw it, since he was very much intoxicated and they took him to another room. Aemond and you helped Jace to clean the place.

“I assure you it was nothing.” You insist “I saw you in the campus another times, and I never had the courage to get closer to you”

“Oh, why is that?”

“Well… You don’t…” You hesitate to open your feelings, but fuck it. “You don’t seem the type of men that like girls like me”

“Girls like you?”

You nod and smile a bit embarrassed, looking down at your lap. “Well, You are obviously out of my league”

“I wouldn’t say so” His voice hesitates.

“I would. You are like a superstar in College. I am not.” You shrug a bit, and hum in deep thought.

“Maybe” Cregan would say “Doesn’t feel like it”

“You surely are after pretty girls, like… Cassandra Baratheon or.. Elinor Massey”

“I am looking at a pretty girl” His hand reaches yours, and you look up. His hand is warm, much bigger than yours and very comforting as he squeezes your a bit. Not Cregan, but Aemond. “What makes you think that I don’t like you?”

You blink, a bit unsure. “I…”

“Because I certainly like you very much” Aemond goes on, smiling very subtly, but it was very alluring to you, and his thumb caressed the back of your hand. “You certainly are a beautiful woman. Who wouldn’t want you?” He asks, leaning a bit closer to you and you look a bit hesitant.

“You must be jesting with me” You add, trying to remain confident, but Aemond was doing his doings.

“I certainly am not”

“Then I must insist on kissing you” You add reincorporating and also leaning close to him. “It would be a waste if not…”

Aemond smirks, and his breath hits your face. You knew that he smoked as he waited for you when you deleted his photos, because he smells like cigarettes. You look at his face, his eye looking at your lips and then at your eyes briefly. You both look at each other as your breath and his are practically merging.

“Isn’t it logical?” You murmur, looking at his eyes, and tauntingly you move your chin closer.

You would kiss him right here and now. You remember the video, how you could see his pretty lips and the whimpers that came out of it. How his big and firm hand caressed his cock, up and down and how his abdomen tightened thanks to it. How his balls seem so full and ready to cum…

He smirks. “It sounds like it…”

His phone rings.

You two separated, breaking off the fantasy of it. You sit paralysed in your seat, looking at the other cars parked horrified.

It was your best friend. Yes,you knew he was hot, you knew he was attractive and you certainly know how perfect his cock is, in more than one way. But we are talking about your Aemond. The one who wiped your tears away and the one who would pass book summaries for classes, and his notes for shared classes when you fell asleep.

“Aegon wants me to… uh, buy something…” He says, a bit awkward as well, as he doesn’t look at you, but just assumes you are hearing. “So… I’ll go, you can go up and wait there, yeah..”

Once you step out, you would hope for something else, but he just closes the door as you step out and he leaves in his car.

Other times he would give you Aegon’s house keys, for you to enter normally and do whatever you wanted, since you get brother’s best friend privileges. And Aegon never denied you hanging in his house.

So that is how you find yourself in the middle of the room with a terrified look as you look at the group of people seated in Aegon's living room.

“Hey, Aemond’s shadow” Aegon teases you as he stands up from the couches, and you look at him, a bit embarrassed since all of Jace friend’s

“M’not his shadow” You say trying to defend your image in front of the group.

“You definitely are” He says amused “Nothing to be ashamed of, darling”

“Oh, shush” you say hitting his shoulder “Have you started studying, anyways?” You ask him curiously.

“He told me you wanted to meet Cregan Stark” He whispers close to you, almost too nonchalantly to your taste.

“What, but… b-but Aegon, you’ll embarrass me!” You whisper in panic, as he drags you along, but he shakes his head.

“Aemond told me all ‘bout it. Don’t worry, you’ll be fucking him before you realise it. I’ll even let you fuck in my bedroom” he whispers in your ear before practically pushing you into the living room.

You frown a bit disgusted at the idea, and you hit his shoulder again. He could be very charming and fun, but you knew Aegon and his weird fixations. Who knew, maybe he even had a camera in his bedroom and you certainly didn’t want him to see that.

That reminds you of Aemond’s video. Gods be good, you say as you have to blush a bit at the memory.

“Here she is” Aegon says amused, and you tense your shoulders. Jace greets his uncle and you look at Cregan more shyly than you anticipated.“You sure met this lovely shy flower?”

You cringe at how he presents you, this is exactly why you wanted Aemond to do this job.

“Oh, yeah, yeah you helped me clean my Sevenmas tree when Cregan threw it downstairs” Jace recognizes you and you nod, giggling.

“Yep, it was me”

“Ugh that was so embarrassing” Cregan groans and you laugh a bit.

“it wasn’t as terrible as you think” you shrug.

“You just broke the millennial seven pointed star from my great great great… great great great grandfather Jaehaerys” Jace says, mocking him.

“I’m pretty sure you exaggerated the ‘great great great’ grandfather part”

“It is old as fuck” Aegon confirms with a nod.

“You wouldn’t know a relic even if it was in front of you” Sara mocks him. Aegon rolls his eyes as he goes to open the door of his house, since his other cousin, Baela also was invited.

“Oh, this is Sara, my sister” Cregan takes advantage of Aegon’s disappearance and introduces her to you, and you introduce yourself to her with a smile.

“Lovely name” she says smiling to you.

“She is my uncle’s best friend” Jace adds and Sara knows in acknowledgement, she then looks at both and asks.

“Which one, the hot one or the other?”

“The hot one” you respond with a confident nod.

“The other one” Jace contradicts you and you both look at each other blinking.

“Ohhh” Sara says a bit confused, amusedly as she looks between you both.

“Wait, you find Aegon hot?” You ask to Jace with a face frown

“Handsome in comparison” He clarifies making room for his dignity “And you find Aemond hot?”

“In comparison” You reply back with the same words. “He is my best friend”

Once you are all together, you think how silly this is. Studying together, how an awful excuse to get closer to Cregan. Aemond comes in some minutes later, sitting by your side on the couch. He doesn’t talk much as he takes out his books and notes.

“Floris, you came” you say as she was the only stranger in the group, and you make a space between Aemond and you, after all, you were playing cupid too. “Sit here!”

The thing with study groups is that everyone is on a different boat. You didn’t have many complaints, you have the same class but on other days, so you just swallow information as Aemond, Jace, Baela and Cregan are the ones more interested in the concepts since their exam is earlier than yours.

You watch Cregan speak, and how he is a bit wrong in central ideas, which Aemond is quick to point out, but you try to correct him smoothly and without making him feel useless.

At one point, you all agree to give up and ask for a pizza in the break, and after it to keep study (That’s what all study groups say before doing the opposite)

In the break, you can hear how Aegon, Baela, Jace and Sara are in the kitchen. Fighting with Aegon as he makes the call for the pizza, screaming at him how they do not want any pineapple on it. Floris has gone to the bathroom, and Cregan went to the balcony to smoke in peace.

You look helplessly as he leaves, and soon Aemond is talking to you.

“And?” he asks curiously, looking at where Cregan disappeared.

“He hates me” You tell him, looking at him with a sigh “He clearly has no interest in me, I didn’t know what I expected”

“I told you Aegon would fuck thing up” You roll your eyes and cross your arms.

“It is not fucked up” You add, stubbornly. “I still have a secret weapon”

“Showing him your tits doesn’t qualify as a secret weapon”

You hum in annoyance and decide to subtly change the subject “And Floris?”

“Too… perfect” He murmurs, not looking at you “I should go back to her.”

You look at him incredulously and hit his chest “Too perfect?” You ask with a snark “Just… hook up. She wants to” You shrug and pat his back

“Fine. I’ll hook up with her. Do not ask for a ride, because I’ll be busy”

“Hopefully, I will too” You say, excited at the idea “I'll be with him. Can you handle me a fag?” You ask.

“You don’t smoke” He says incredulously at the idea that you would fake smoking for a man.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll have to ask Cregan, how bad” you say mockingly as you stand up with a smile and walk to the balcony to open it.

Cregan is there and he turns to look at you. He acknowledges you with a nod, and you smile shyly as you close the sliding door.

“Hey. Care to share with a poor lady?” You say

He chuckles and handles you the cigarette, now minding to look at you as he leans on the balcony to look below at the ground. You put the cigarette in your mouth and before you can cough, you throw the air out. A pathetic attempt, but Cregan was not watching you anyways.

“I thought.. I thought you went to Winterfell’s Uni” you say looking at him, leaning on the balcony too as you pass the fag back to him. “Since, well, your family basically founded the institution”

“Oh, yeah, yeah” He says in a raspy tone as he scratches his beard a bit, crossing arms as he leans against the balcony to face inside of the flat, watching how Floris comes back from the bathroom. “But, Jace did two semesters there, and so as his best mate, it’s my turn to do the semesters… here” Cregan says with a nod.

“Oooh, how fancy” You say without really knowing what to say. With Aemond it had been easier, you just talked to him and flirted with him naturally (Because he was just acting as Crean, no other reason), but with the real Cregan it was awkward. “And… ehm, do you like it here?”

It was painfully and horribly awkward. You were tense, and more than attracted to him, you looked terrified.

“Yeah, yeah, College is fine, I guess” He shrugs, not really immersed in the talk as he smokes looking at the inside of Aegon’s flat.

“We… We actually share another class” You dare to speak again “Logical thinking, Wednesdays in the morning” you say looking at him with a bright smile.

“Does he always look at you like that?” He asks, pointing at the living room with his cigarette, before smoking another puff.

You turn your head to look where he pointed out, and you blink a bit. Aemond looks at you as Floris Baratheon is talking to him, she wears a pretty floral yellow dress and her long dark hair is loose. Floris has always been as beautiful as kind, and you know she has been interested in Aemond long enough. Not a crush, you’d say, maybe for a hookup.

“He is just looking after me” You clarify looking back at Cregan.

“Hm” he says, the cigarette on his lips, he lets out the smoke.

Cregan either didn’t care about Aemond, or he just ignored him, as he passed his cigarette to you, not looking if you properly smoked it.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to” You say smiling to him, and you hear how Jace and Aegon talk about drinking some vodka or tequila to ‘suppress the stress in the room’

“It was no problem” He says, with a chuckle looking inside again “You like vodka?”

“A little too strong for me” You say with a laugh.

“Oh” He says looking at you “Well, in the North you can buy one basically in every corner. More when it is Winter”

You blink a bit, and you nod. Did you just fucked up? Because you remember how offended Aemond was when you told him Dragons weren’t that cool. Maybe it was the same for Cregan… You look at him, and he is inside once again, not really minding at you.

“I am sure in the north it is more tasty” You try to save the situation, and you briefly look at where Floris is, but not at the sight of Aemond. “Which is your favourite flav-”

“Do you know Alysanne Blackwood?” He asks suddenly, and your cheeks burn due to that.

“Oh?” You ask confused.

“I do not mean to be rude” He adds, looking at you “You are a lovely lady, but you see.. I am after another girl. Like Jace’s uncle is after you”

“Aegon is not-”

“The other” He says as if it was obvious. “And I have been wanting to get with Alysanne for a long time, do you know about her business with Frey's girlfriend?”

You blink confused at him, and you shake your head slowly.

“No, not really…”

“Oh, a pity. Jace and I have been dying to know about it, to know if she is single, I mean. And if she is interested in men as she is to women..” From the start of the conversation, this is the most he has talked about. And it didn’t involve you. But his crush who he was after.

“I am pretty sure that…” You say looking at your hands, a bit nervous “That Oscar Tully must know, he is into gossip and-”

“Thank you” Cregan says smiling to you, before patting your shoulder and leaving you alone at the balcony, as Jace calls his name from inside to decide between vodka or tequila. You remain confused, ashamed and a bit awkward.

You walk inside to spot Floris once again. She has a juice glass on her hand and she is talking to Baela, both sitting on the couch, but you didn’t see Aemond.

“Hey, Flo” You say, patting her shoulder, and she smiles as you join them. “Have you seen Aemond?”

“Aemond?” She asks with a laugh, and she shakes her head “He wasn’t that interested in me, y’know, like I even offered to go to one of Aegon’s rooms, but he wasn’t in the mood.” She shrugs nonchalant, because that was Floris, she never made a deal if things didn’t end up happening.

“Oh” You say, a bit confused. He said he was going to go with her. “And he didn’t say..?”

“Nope” She shrugs “Maybe Aegon knows”

“If he is not too busy fighting with Jace about the drinks. Thanks”

As you pull Aegon aside, you can see how Jace and Cregan take out the vodka drink from Aegon’s collection and they offer it to everyone (Which is only the other three girls, but it was a majority)

“No idea. He said he was going to go to the gym, but I don’t think so. He took his cigarettes, so probably smoking” Aegon shrugs, as he makes himself a drink with tequila (You are very sure he got the measures wrong, because no drink has that much whisky) “Maybe he is in his car, texting Alys like the sad meow meow he claims to be”

You roll your eyes, but you thank him. You leave the apartment, in a different way you thought you would be leaving. Hopefully, with Cregan it was your bet. Now, it was all alone and in search of Aemond.

Once the lift leaves you on the parking floor, you walk a bit to encounter Aemond, his back leaning against the copilot's seat by his car, his phone on his right hand and a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t look like someone who was at a party, less someone who seems to be having fun.

“Hey” You say softly, finally speaking in a normal tone after so much noise.

Aemond looks up, frowning to see you in front of him like a wet puppy. “What are you doing here? And Cregan?”

You sigh, and you look at the ground. You tried, so hard. You did all kinds of juggling, for nothing. He wasn’t even interested in you, the whole time.

“Hey” He says as he throws his cigarette to step on it, and he saves his phone from his pocket, two steps and his arms are all around you, hugging you safely in his chest as his chin is in the top of your head. “It’s okay, it’s okay..” He says soothingly, rubbing your back as if he knew you would cry.

And you normally wouldn’t truly, but his soothing actions and caring nature makes you a bit more vulnerable than usual. Not crying, but you feel more disappointed as he tries to make it better.

“He is an asshole, you will get over him..” He says softly “It’s fine, do not…, I’m sorry” He says rubbing your back

“Tis not your fault” You murmur as you lean your head on his chest.

“I should’ve been the one to pair you with him, not leave Aegon to it”

“It would have gone horribly anyways.” You say, passing your arms in his waist to hug him back. It was nice to have him close and hugging you. “He is just… Not interested in me” You add, a bit frustrated. “Because I apparently suck and am the most boring girl ever”

“You are not” He says sternly, moving a bit back to look at you, and you look up at him “You don’t say that, you are…” He looks at your face, as if finding words as he tries to remember each tiniest detail of your expression; how your eyes look up to him, how your mouth is like a pout, and how your cheeks are a slight shade of pink. “You are incredibly amazing.”

You look at him for a moment, both of your faces so close and you look at his lips. He was so charmingly handsome, and the way he comforts you makes you feel secure enough to gain some confidence. And for him… he couldn’t bear it any longer, he can’t physically hold back.

The kiss you two share is maybe purely impulsive, or maybe it is the consequence of a long shared tension between you both. But at the moment, neither of you pay any mind to the fact.

In his arms, he has caged you and his hair briefly falls,touching the sides of your face and some of your cleavage. You squeeze him a bit in your embrace, kissing him back eagerly and it is slow, passionate and something that it was obviously longed for.

Aemond moves your hair to take it in his hands, his fist grabbing a handful of your hair as he moves his arms away from the hug, now holding you to stay as he deepens the kiss and his (and your) desire grow and grow.

Maybe you both didn’t want to stop the kiss not to face the consequences, how kissing a friend would potentially ruin your friendship, and nothing will ever be the same. You certainly don’t want the after talk about it afterwards.

“Mhm” Aemond says as you both separate. “This is much better, Yeah?” He says nuzzling his nose in your cheek as his voice is like soft silk. You were a bit confused of this all, of this weird way of comforting you. “You made sure to look so beautiful for a useless boy, mhm? Cregan Stark cannot call himself a man when he cannot appreciate a pretty girl like you.” He says softly, his hands caressing your back, and going down to the lower of your back, where your naked skin shows.

You are a bit confused, still leaning to his affections because damn if they aren’t nice. Your body practically craves it, part as to why you were so looking forward to getting laid.

“Aemond, we…”

“Shh, I know…” he murmurs as he leans to leave a little kiss on your neck. “But… we had a goal for tonight, hm? Didn’t we?” His tone is soothing, almost hypnotic. “It could do good for us” He adds softly, moving your hair to plant another kiss on your neck.

“We… we are best friends…” You say, a bit worried about ruining it. There was a clear difference between platonic and other feelings, romantic or sexual. And as clear as it came, it was also very thin.

“This is only a one time thing…” He murmurs, his hand still caressing your back and waist. His head slowly rises from your neck to look at you with his eye full of lust and starving desire. “For stress relieving purposes, yeah?”

You are convinced by his words, because Aemond could always be convincing enough. You knew that, but you also knew that you longed for him. It was as if all the day was aimed up to this moment; the video, the small tease in the car and now this kiss.

You quickly realise that you want him, as much as he seems to want you. At the same time, you both need it. Alys, Cregan, the exams and all had you on your nerves. It was like walking in eggshells around the other, because your body and mind couldn't take a break after one thing, because in fact, life never waits for you to recover, just goes on and you are expected to go along on or get lost in the way.

“Yeah. yeah, fuck me” You murmur in his lips as now it is you who kisses him back, pressing boldly your body to his, as your hands move away the hair from his face. He still smells like cigarettes, and his scent is masculine, maybe the new cologne that he bought a few weeks ago. The way that he grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him was almost desperate, almost as if he never wanted this to end. He is craving it, he is starved.

He basically handles your body to the copilot’s seat, pushing it all the way back and lowering the backrest a bit lower, but not too much. He sits on it and practically drags you to his lap as he desires, closing the door behind you. You have to lower your head a bit, but he takes no time in passing his hands under your shirt and all the way in your back.

“You are not wearing a bra” he notes looking at you raising his eyebrows.

“Doesn’t the building’s parking lot have cameras?” You ask looking out the windows.

“Answer me” He says, looking at you. “You are not wearing a bra”

“No. The shirt is a bit tight on the chest area, it basically is like a push-up..” You murmur looking the other way “Are you sure that there aren’t any…?”

“I don’t care” He murmurs, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you against his chest, as he kisses and nibbles your neck. “I hope they do. We could have a sextape of this moment” He says smiling as he moves lower to your collarbone.

“Aemond!” You say a bit flustered, and his hot kisses feel so good in your skin, and you move your hands to grab his hair.

“You make me so hard, I cannot hold back anymore” He says desperately, moving your chin to share another kiss between you both. You were as desperate as him, but you were more subtle, he thinks, because he knows you well.

He knew that you were cautious, following his lead. You might be confused, and a bit hesitant to ruin your friendship with him. But not doing this probably will do, he is sure of that.

He takes your hand and moves it to the bulge on his black pants, and you look down. Gods, even when clothed, his cock was huge. You had seen it in video, but touching it and looking at it, made you drool. You looked at him, and he was staring at your eyes, pink cheeks as he looked flustered.

“You make me so hard” he murmurs, looking at you “So, so hard. Your slutty green skirt, and that shirt that barely hides your tits, Gods woman, you were right, you could make any man drool for you” he says moving the hair out of your face.

“I wanna suck you” you murmur, your eyes hesitant and almost innocently looking at him. Fuck, he could cum just at those words coming out of your mouth.

You accommodate as you can in the floor of the car, a bit awkward and your upper body forcefully is forward, right at the height of his cock. You look up at him as you unbuckle his belt, the little metallic sound makes your pussy more wet, as Aemond looks at you almost amazed.

He lifts his hips as you lower his pants and underwear, his dick jumping free, standing fully hard and leaking a bit of precum at the tip, which is a little red and it is a bit swollen. It was better in person.

You lean a bit, as you spit on the head of his cock, and pass your hand through it, as Aemond lets a low “Fuck” as his hips tense and hesitates, as if he was holding back.

“Cregan Stark doesn’t deserve you” He says as your hand goes up and down on his cock, and you look up to him. He likes it, how powerless and innocent you look sitting between his legs and stroking his hard cock. It makes his ball tighten more. “Look at you, a needy girl for a cock” He says moving his hand to caress your cheek, and his thumb caresses your lower lip.

Your lips encircle around his thumb, and suckle just a little bit, as your hand keeps stroking his dick, slowly but firmly. Your pussy is aching with need, one of your hands barely touches your pussy over your panties, and you melt a bit as you suckle his thumb.

“I love your cock” You admit, looking at him with needy eyes, and he knows your words are sincere. “Tis better in real life”

Aemond frowns as he tilts his head, confused as to what you mean. “Hm?”

You don’t respond, as you stroke it and move to leave little kitten licks in the top, but he moves your chin away, as you forcefully try to get back to sucking his dick.

“No, tell me what you meant” His voice is like one when scolding a child, but you shake your head, trying to get your way. “Don’t be a brat”

“I saw it before” you say, moving his hand away, and he doesn’t make it go back. “In a video, earlier. It was in your gallery”

He realises what you mean, and he slaps your face slightly with his right hand. It wasn’t harsh, but you realise two things. The power this man had over you, and how much you liked that fact.

“Needy whore” he murmurs, looking at you, and you almost whine as he slaps your hand away from his cock. “It was not meant for you to see”

“It was on the carpet with my name!” You say to him.

“You touched yourself while seeing that video, hm?” He asks, leaning a bit, sitting back as his face is over yours. You almost whine again. “Your pussy was always so needy for my cock, hm? You couldn’t even get closer to Cregan tonight. If he was the one fucking you right now as you slutty brain wanted, you would still be thinking of my cock”

You lick your lips as his eyes are penetrating on yours, and you don't respond to his words. It may be a harsh truth, but how it turned you on.

“Little needy thing you are” He murmurs, leaning back again so he can rest against the back of the seat. He takes his dick on his hands, and smirks mischievously as he slaps it on your check. “Needy for this? This is what you want?” He mocks you as he slaps his cock in your cheek and closer to his mouth.

“Yes” you murmur blushing and trying to lick it as he does so, and he lets a shake breath at your naughty action.

“Open your mouth”

He grabs your hair again in his fist, the same hair he saw you so dedicatedly to make sure it was perfect, and he lowers your head to suck him off. Your throat takes his cock as he bobs your head, moaning breathlessly as he uses your mouth for his pleasure.

And you love it. His hips start to lowly thrust in your mouth, abusing your throat as he looks down at you. You looked so hot, so perfect. He didn’t know how you two didn’t do this before.

“Yeah, just like that” he murmurs fucking your throat before he lets you breathe a bit after so much time without air. You feel as if those minutes were barely seconds as you sucked his dick. “Come here. Take off your panties”

You don’t have to be told twice.

He lifts up the end of your skirt, as he holds your waist a bit. He looks at you, and his thumb moves to clean the drool in your chin.

“There is… there is a condom behind you” he murmurs and you tilt your head “there are condoms in the glove compartment”

You frown, but you take one off, and Aemond is the one to put it on himself, while you watch “How optimistic to save condoms there” you say smirking a bit.

“Oh shut up. Look, it serves for something now” he says smiling as his hand caresses your thigh. “I will prep you” he murmurs, moving his fingers closer to your centre.

“No” You stop his hand and you look at him. He frowns, and of course you want his fingers on your pussy. “I want your cock better”

Now he doesn’t have to be told twice.

You two accommodate as you can, he helps you lower your hips in his cock, and you hold from anywhere you can, really. The sting is pleasurable, and you don’t mind it, not when Aemond has you so wet and aching for this. His hard cock fills you slowly, but it was so pleasurable feeling how it opens you to take it.

“I don’t think this will work” you murmur, and he opens his eye to look at you.

“What…?”

“I cannot… My head hits the ceiling” You say as you have to lean your head to the side to sit properly on his lap. He looks at you, and he chuckles amused. “It is not funny”

“It is!” He argues back, laughing as his hands rest on your thighs, and you slap his chest playfully. “Come here, I’ll manage” he promises.

You sigh amused and you lean forward, pressing your chest to his as he wraps his arms around your waist. You pass your hands to his shoulders and look at his face that is so close to yours.

“Now, it is more comfortable?”

“Yeah” you say looking at him “But I also feel watched, since I can see the window by our side”

“Gods, woman” he says playfully slapping your ass, which makes you jump “Just ride the dick”

It was your Aemond. You know, because you don’t think you have ever been so comfortable having sex. It was natural, and you didn’t feel judged by him. He was your best friend,

Your hips go up and down on his cock, and your little moans are right in his left ear, delighting him as your pussy stretches as you ride him. Your moans are more like sobs, and his hands go over to your ass to help you lower yourself on his cock.

One of his hands moves to the knot in front of your tie front top, and he grabs one end and once it is open, he moves his mouth to eagerly suck on your tits.

“Aemond” Your whimpers come as he starts nibbling on them, and your moans are more desperate, and your cunt squeezes his cock harder.

His hands go back to your ass, and he spanks you as you let a little whine in full pleasure. He made sure to stimulate you whenever he can, and he is succeeding.

“You are a needy slut” he murmurs looking up to you, and you nod.

“Yeah, yeah, please…”

“Only for my cock” he adds, and he slaps your ass again, forcing your hip to stay still on his lap “Not Cregan” he adds “Not anyone”

“Aemond” you whine, winning another spank.

Now his hips start to thrust in you, making you whine and moan again, your body limp as you lay atop of his chest. He always knew you were a pillow princess.

“Who is making you feel this good?” His voice is a grunt, as he moves his hips up and pulls you down to meet his thrusts.

“You” you moan, and he groans as your pussy feels so warm, and perfect.

“And who am I?”

You hesitate to answer the philosophical question, unsure what his point was.

“Who am I to you?” He asks again.

“M-My best friend” you answer as he spanks you once again, the slap stings in your ass, moaning as your head rests on his shoulder, moaning right on his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, your best friend is making you cum, hm?” He says smugly, as he moans a bit more.

Again, hearing him moan and whimper on a video is one thing, but in real life…

“Fuck, fuck…” He says as he starts to feel close, his head leaning back in the seat and he turns his head to his left to look at you, your face on his shoulder and your left hand grips on his right shoulder.

“I am going to cum” you say almost submissively, he finds it so hot.

“I know” he says equally without breath.

“You make me feel so good” you say, your breath hits his face as he does the same on yours.

“You do too. So good, so perfect. You are nothing less but” He starts to ramble a bit, and you whimper as you press your forehead on his shoulder, looking down a bit to see how his dick fucks you.

As you cum, moaning loudly, and your forehead almost nuzzling on his shoulder, he feels his balls tightening more and more, slapping your ass a few times more as you whine from it. Your body is almost limp, and you creaming on his cock has to be one of the best feelings ever.

His cum comes hard and intensely, just as Aemond was overall. You wish there wasn’t a condom in between, but it was equally as good. You look at his profile as his mouth opens as he cums, his eyes closing shut as he spends on the condom.

You two fall into silence, still against each other, sweating and tired. The windows were all soggy and you giggle a bit without breath, at how insane this is.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing” you say.

“Little minx” he says smiling as he looks at your face.

“So, are you more clear of mind to study?”

“I am so going to fail that damn exam” he says with a chuckle, as he looks in front of him and moves some wet hairs out of his face. “Going to be thinking of your pussy all test”

You have to chuckle a bit, and you sigh. “Mm. Maybe.” You say with a smirk.

“But… if we go back to my place, and I fuck you properly on my bed, as you read to me all the concepts, I might pass the test”

You sit straight up, and slap his chest playfully. “Fine, but only because you are so stressed” you say mockingly and he nods, as if he was miserable due to it.

“So, so stressed. How lucky I have my best friend to help me with that”

1K notes · View notes

ienjoywritingfilth · 6 months ago

Text

The night of the Concert

K I’m new here but I hope you like this even though it’s just filthy and horny and I like it like that. Maybe you will too.

pairing: dbf!Joel x fem!reader

trope Best Friend's Dad! Joel Miller

summary: your bf breaks your heart and you turn to the only person you can. It happens to be Joel Miller, your best friend Sarah's dad.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), dubcon, oral, infidelity, p in v, absolutely filthy talk, daddy mentioned, other shit but I've forgotten.

word count: 4.3k

The day is warm and the fan spinning next to you isn't doing much to help. You and Sarah are seated on her couch, you cross legged with her foot in your lap as you paint her toenails a vivid green.

"I think he's gonna ask me to be his girlfriend," you say with a giggle as Sarah's eyes widen.

"Really? Holy shit that's huge," Sarah says, watching as you swipe the green Polish onto her remaining nails. "He hasn't been serious about anyone since Mariana."

Mariana is your boyfriend Jeremy's ex girlfriend. A beautiful woman with high ambitions. You can't stand her and go to great lengths to avoid her when you see her on campus.

Sarah is your best friend of several years, ever since your first day at college when you'd both been lost on your way to Chemistry. She's the reason you're with Jeremy in the first place. She's seen you through final exams, bad frat parties and your first college boyfriend.

"You two will have the cutest babies!" Sarah says dramatically as you wave her off.

"Gross. I'm only twenty-two, dude."

Sarah shrugs.

"At least when you have kids you'll have a better reason to call him daddy."

The two of you bust out into braying laughter, so loud and for so long that when her dad comes in from the backyard he's grinning at the two of you.

"What're you two gigglin' about for so long over there?"

Sarah's dad Joel Miller is about the nicest man you've ever met. Respectful, loving, patient and funny. You love being over at their house because you love seeing such a healthy familial dynamic at work. It's no wonder Sarah is so happy all the time. You envy that.

"Nothing dad!" Sarah says, still wiping the tears from her eyes as the two of you continue to giggle.

"Yeah, nothing," you add, holding a pillow to your face to hide the laughter.

"Okay, well the burgers are on the grill, jokesters. Can you get your mom? Think she's upstairs in the office."

Sarah nods, pushing off the couch and heading upstairs.

"You staying for dinner, darlin'?" Joel asks you politely from the kitchen.

"If you and Mrs Miller don't mind," you nod, coming to walk into the kitchen.

You don't want to go home tonight. Your parents work long hours and the house is often empty. You're often here at the Millers place, eating dinner, studying, just hanging out. They always treat you well and always invite you to stay for meals.

"We never mind," Joel insists as he mixes up the salad. "We only mind when you call us Mister and Mrs Miller. Makes us feel old."

"You're not old," you insist with an eye roll as you absently play with one of the edges of the decorative napkins.

"Tell that to my knees."

You laugh at that, turning to see Sarah and her mom Angela entering. Angela wraps you in a side hug and asks about school as the four of you gather around the dinner table.

"I'll be glad when exams are over," you say with a roll of your eyes. "They stress me out so bad."

"You say that and you always get top marks," Sarah says as she adds the tomato to her bun. "I bet you got an A+ on your last exam."

"Yeah," you nod shyly as you add ketchup to your plate.

"Your parents must be mighty proud," Joel offers before a sip of beer. Angela nods in agreement.

"Yeah, your daddy must be so proud of you," Sarah drawls as she plates her salad, winking at you.

The Miller parents look confusedly to one another when you and Sarah can't stop giggling.

----------

Date night with Jeremy! Dress with the stripes or the jeans? Where is he taking you? Ice cream and walk on the beach. Sundress with the polka dots!!!!! You're a genius Sarah Miller. I owe you big time Just pay me back by making me maid of honor at your wedding What are you up to tonight? I'm taking my mom to see the Bangles for her birthday. Awwww. Have fun!

You toss your phone onto your daisy-patterned coverlet and stretch. It's a beautiful Sunday afternoon and you're in the best mood.

You take a shower, slipping into the sundress Sarah recommended. As you do your hair and makeup in front of your mirror you fantasize about what awaits you this evening with your boyfriend Jeremy.

You've been seeing him for three months now and he's always a gentleman, always taking you for thoughtful dates. Sarah introduced you as they're both in the same Philosophy class. Sexually he's just a little too eager, too quick. There's a lot to be improved, but you're happy to keep learning together. He's so handsome and smart. You love how he looks in his glasses when he's pouring over a textbook.

A few hours later you’re showered, smelling delicious and wearing your shortest dress. You spin in front of your mirror before affixing a delicate lace bow to the back of your hair. You feel beautiful and you sigh dreamily.

Your phone beeps and you glance down to see Jeremy’s sent you a message. You smile to yourself, swiping up and reading the text.

Hey I'm sorry I don't think this is gonna work out. My ex and I have been messaging the last little bit and we're gonna give it another shot. I just wanted to be up front with you.

You read the text over and over several times. It takes you that long to understand what’s happening. When you do you call Sarah, but it goes straight to voicemail. Over and over. You’re panicked, tears sliding down your face. You need to see her. You need comfort.

---------------------------

You arrive at the Miller home shortly after eight, pounding on the door as you sob. You’re surprised when Joel answers the door in jeans and a t-shirt, looking like he’s just woke up from a nap with bleary eyes and his hair mussed.

“Fuck, I’m sorry to wake you up Mr. Miller,” you sniff, wiping at your wet eyes. “Is Sarah here? It’s important?”

“Are you okay?”

He must see the frantic way you’re looking around or the tears that stain your cheeks.

“Jeremy broke up with me,” you tell him without hesitation.

"I'm so sorry," Joel grimaces, rubbing at the back of his neck and the clear display of discomfort. "Fuck I wish Sarah was here for you, or even Angela. But they’re at that concert tonight."

That's right, the Bangles.

"Fuck I'm so sorry I forgot," you say shaking your head. "I'll leave-"

"Hold on now, I'm not sure it's a great idea for you to be driving right now," Joel insists. "Why don't you come in for a glass a water and a chance to calm down a bit?"

Under normal circumstances, you would be embarrassed at taking up his time. But considering how emotionally wrung out you are right now, you simply nod and follow after him like a sad puppy.

He sits you on the couch and joins you moments later, passing you a glass of water. You drink it shakily as Joel smooths hair hair, watching you all the while.

“I feel so embarrassed,” you tell him once the glass is drained. “Acting crazy.”

“I know what heartbreak feels like,” Joel confesses. “It can make you crazy.”

You smile shallowly and nod at him before looking at your lap. “I’m a fucking idiot for thinking he was into me.”

"That's nonsense," Joel insists, taking your chin in between his thumb and index finger.

"It's true," you say with your voice wobbling. "I thought he loved me,"

You whimper, tears falling down your cheeks. You're surprised when Joel pulls you into his sturdy arms.

"Aw honey," Joel says holding you and rocking you gently.

One large hand goes to cradle the back of your skull, the other around your waist. You dissolve into tears as you say the last word and Joel holds you tighter. You bring your arms up around his neck, holding him as you cry, feeling safe and protected in his muscled grip.

"It's gonna be okay."

"Why do people always say that? It's not going to be okay!"

You pull away from Joel sharply, burying your face in your hands. You feel as Joel's body comes to shuffle next to yours, the cushions dipping as he moves until you're thighs touch.

"Honey---"

"Nothing is going to be okay again," you whimper, turning to face your friend’s father. Joel looks so anguished for you, his hand coming to cup your cheek gently.

"I know it seems like that now but I promise you there's lots of men out there."

"None like Jeremy." Your face crumbles. "None that will love me like him."

Now it's you who throws yourself into Joel's arms, burying your face in his shoulder as you cry. He rocks you slowly, petting your hair as you tears soak his flannel.

"He ain't the only guy in the world."

"He was special. He thought I was beautiful."

"You are," Joel insists at your jaw, still rocking you gently. "You're so fucking beautiful and don't you forget it."

His words rumble through his chest and you can't help but feel your body soften at them. You didn't realize how much you needed to hear them until right this moment.

"Thank you Joel," you sniffle, kissing his cheek gently without thinking.

You feel him stiffen a moment, registering what's just happened. But he doesn't pull away. He keeps holding you, arms tight.

And the sting of Jeremy's rejection seems to dim. With Joel's arms wrapped around you it's almost like he's shielding you from all that. It makes you feel grateful, and it's not long before you’re overtaken with emotion.

"Thank you for everything," you breathe against his jaw. "You're so understanding."

"Not a problem," Joel says in a thick voice.

And suddenly something in the air changes as Joel loosens you in his grip. A quiet hum, a vibration, starting between the two of you. Your hand is on his hip now, mouth tilting towards his face. You see his dark eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth and back again.

"You're always so kind to me," you whisper, not breaking his gaze. Joel's breathing deepens and you feel all resolve leave you.

Your mouth goes to his, tentative and gentle and you attempt to kiss him. He immediately pulls back from you, eyes wide.

"Hey whoa," he says, pushing you gently back by the shoulder. "What're you doin'?"

You don't answer. Instead your hands trail down his stomach, tripping over his belt and coming to slide over the growing bulge between his legs.

"Something that we both want, I think."

He hisses at the contact, trying to jerk out of your touch.

"I don't," Joel says quickly. But he doesn't pull your hand off of where they rest over his jeans.

You don't know if it's the rejection from Jeremy or because you're doing something so wrong, but you can't stop wanting to touch Joel. There's something intense about this grown man getting red in the face, his breathing quickening as he allows you hand to gently massage him through his pants.

"You deserve to feel good, Joel," you whisper as your hand goes to his zipper. "Let me make you feel good."

Joel makes a murmur of protest as he watches your fingers dragging the zipper down. He seems shocked, as if his body won't obey his brain. He makes a noise of protest when you slide your hand underneath his boxers, feeling his cock twitch.

Joel flinches when your fingertips slip under the band of his boxers and graze his bare cock. He knows it's wrong when you wrap those same fingers around his shaft, but he's so fucking hard. He can't remember the last time he was this hard.

"You gotta---" he starts, but the rest of his sentence becomes a tight hiss as you you take him out of his pants. You marvel at the size of him, your fingers unable to meet at the base when you pull him free of his boxers.

"So big."

Joel watches you gaze at his cock, muffling a groan as you tilt forward and let a bead of if saliva drop from your mouth onto the head of his twitching cock. When you give a short stroke down, coating him in your saliva he feels he has to say something.

"I'm married," he says weakly.

"Shhh," you murmur against his bearded cheek. "Let me do this for you."

You make a whimpering groan at the sight of him, thick and the weeping.

"Honey, I---" He's leaning back into the couch almost like he's trying to stop what's happening.

"Shhhh," you soothe against his jaw once more. "Just enjoy it."

Your hand begins to stroke up his shaft, using his copious pre-cum to glide. He growls lowly, hips sliding back and forth.

"Such a big cock," you murmur, watching your hand slide up his girthy length. Joel makes a strangled noise before breathing deeply. His gaze is locked on your hand watching it delicately slide along his straining cock.

Use your mouth. Use your fucking mouth.

He hates that this thought comes to him as he watches his daughters college friend jerk him off. Hates that this will be played on loop in his mind for years to come. Hates that his marriage of twenty three years is about to be flushed away for twenty minutes of pleasure.

But he doesn't hate it enough to stop.

"This...Mmmm... Shouldn't be doing this," Joel groans. You squeeze the tip and his head falls back against the sofa. "Fuck, you gotta stop-"

But even as he says this, Joel's hips are jutting forward, urging your palm to slide over his length over and over.

"You're such a good man, Joel. You deserve this," you murmur against his ear, tongue coming to gently trace the lobe. "You deserve to feel good."

Joel watches your thumb circle the rosy head of his cock and he shudders. Pre-cum starts at the tip, beading there enticingly.

"You deserve to come," your warm breath fans against his neck. "Don't you?"

His head jerks back against the couch, eyes slamming shut as his cock twitches in your hand. You can see him relenting, his body twitching.

"I shouldn't be doing this," Joel pants, thrusting his cock between your fingers.

"You should.” Your mouth begins sponging kisses to the underside of his jaw. "Keep going. Lemme make you come."

Your wrist snaps as you jerk him off faster, the wet sounds of his flesh turning you on even more. You wonder if he'll fuck you if you try to mount him.

"This is so fuckin' wrong," Joel pants, his hips thrusting harshly against your palm. He's grunting, his hips off the couch as he fucks into your hands.

He's just saying words, no thought behind them. It's wrong but he doesn't fucking care. All he cares about is the steadily building orgasm that you're bringing forth with every twist of your wrist.

Your eyes are fixed on his face, watching as Joel's mouth goes slack and his eyes crack open, trained on your hand around his cock.

"Want more, Joel?" You purr against his jaw. "My mouth?"

Joel breathes shallowly, eyes going from his cock to your mouth over and over.

Your hand slides quicker and Joel gives a strangled groan when your head lowers. You tilt your face, meeting his gaze as your tongue comes out to lick the head of his cock long and slow. Joel nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Fuck," Joel grunts, his cock twitching. He breathes shakily before his eyes seem to darken. "Do it again."

You flick your tongue against the mushroom head before suckling gently at the tip. Joel's eyes roll back as you do this, tasting the sweet tang of his precum.

You pull off, lower lip grazing the head of his bobbing length. You watch as he grits his teeth and his eyes find yours.

"You wanna fuck my mouth, Joel?"

It's like he remembers who you are and what this is because you see regret cross his features.

"N-no," Joel grits out with a wild flail of his head. "Gone far enough. This is---"

He's denying it, trying so hard to move back from you but you know he's close, the head of his cock is mauve and it twitches in your grip.

"Would feel so good," you croon, tongue starting to circle the bulbous head once more. Joel is groaning, his hands in tight fists at his side. "I know you wanna fuck my mouth."

Joel is trying so hard not to give in. He tries to remind himself that you're his daughter’s friend, that he's happily married, that he isn't this kind of guy. But you’re so fucking sexy right now, desperate for his cock in a way his wife hasn't been for years.

You swallow the first inch of him and he groans low and loud, his hips twitching. You pull him out slowly before you glance up at him, the throbbing head of his cock slick against your wet lower lip.

"When's the last time you fucked someone's mouth, Joel?" You tease, and he sees the mirth in your eyes when he all but whimpers in reply.

Joel's head is thrown back, a ragged sigh escaping him. He shouldn't want this, he shouldn't let you keep going.

But then you take the length of him in your mouth, almost gagging at the thickness of him, and all coherent thought leaves him.

You bob up and down on his length, eyes closing in bliss. Joel is carding his hands through your hair as you suck him off.

"Fuck, take it deeper," he rumbles, and you feel his large palm on the back of your head, pushing. "Swallow it."

"Yeash shur," you manage through a mouthful of cock.

Joel can't hold back, he starts to thrust up into your throat, grunting as he fucks it. You hold onto his thighs, eyes watering as the bulbous head slips further and further.

When you sputter you feel Joel come back to himself, gripping you by the back of your heck and pulling you off of him. You whine in protest as you sit back up, the sight of Joel's hard cock, still glossy with your saliva between you.

“You need to stop.”

Joel watches transfixed as go to a stand beside the couch between his parted legs. He makes a sound almost pained as he watches you slide your fingers under your dress, tugging down and stepping out of your lace panties.

He just stays rigid when you crawl into his lap. You slide your wet slit along his cock, feeling as sharp huffs of air escape him. You feel heavy with power, your mouth going to his ear.

"When's the last time you fucked college pussy, Joel?"

You smile when you hear the strangled sound escape him. You can see he's soaked with pre-cum, a shiny sticky collection wetting the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft. His eyes are stuck on the seam of your pussy teasing the head of his cock.

"It's okay to like it," you promise him. "It's okay to want this."

"I wanna put it in," Joel grunts.

Your mouth is at his ear, warm and husky.

“Put it in.”

Joel groans and you feel his thick fingers start to squeeze your hips. He's not inside you yet, but he's so thick and warm against your pussy lips. He’s hypnotized, urging your pussy down, desperate to feed his cock into you.

“I need it," he whispers in a daze.

"You can have it," you encourage, breathlessly as you watch him grip his cock and guide it to your waiting hole.

"This is so fucking bad," Joel groans, half aroused, half disgusted with himself as he begins to feed his cock into your twitching pussy.

You grin, fingers digging into his shoulders when the bulbous head breeches your entrance.

“Tell me to stop,” he almost begs but you shake your head.

“You deserve this,” you say. “Deserve to fuck my tight pussy.”

You’re married. You have a kid. This is fucking wrong.

All those worries are gone the second the head of his cock feels the velvet clench of your cunt. He can’t look away from where you’re both connected. Without warning he sheaths himself deeply, watching your brows crumple as you take him to the hilt. Joel watches your pussy swallowing his cock, knowing how fucking wrong it is and hating how he has no intention of stopping.

"I fuckin’ deserve this," he pants out, watching your tits bounce as you slide along his length. You ride him well, experienced, full of energy. He can’t remember the last time Angela rode him like this, like his cock was everything.

“Yes you fucking do,” you groan out, bouncing in his lap. He grips you tightly, fucking into you like you’re a human flesh-light.

He does deserve this. He works hard, he’s a good father, a loving husband. He’s never done anything like this before. Would never dream of fucking a girl who’s been over at his house for months, who’s never appealed to him like this until this very moment. A girl who’s tits jump with every thrust of his cock, whose wet mouth forms a lurid ‘O’ when he hits a particularly good spot. He deserves to have you ride him here in his house, a desperate, needy fuck.

Joel feels everything in him tightening as he watches you peel the dress off your body, tossing it over your shoulder and he sees you’ve forgone a bra this evening, letting the rhythmic slap of his cock up into you make them jiggle enticingly. You sit there naked, riding his cock with no shame or hesitation.

“You feel so good,” you tell him through a groan, your eyes falling shut.

He feels his balls contract when you start to cup your breasts, pinching the nipples as your head falls back. Joel can’t help but dart forward, latching onto your breast and laving at the taut nipple. You moan as he continues to fuck you, pausing when he grips your wrist.

“Make yourself cum,” He orders, forcing your hand between your legs. “Soak me.”

You nod doing as he says, rubbing your swollen clit for barely any time at all before you shuddering.

“Gonna cum,” you moan, head tilting back once more.

Your hands fly behind you, gripping onto his knees. Joel can see everything, see’s how your clit rubs against his shaft and your thighs shake.

"Fuckin' do it sweetheart," he croaks. "Fuckin' soak my cock."

He holds your hips again, entranced at how you slide up and down him, your arousal seeping down into the curled hairs at the base of his cock as you cum. He watches all of this in amazement, his breathing shallow and rapid.

You pull yourself back, your pussy fucking drenched as you slowly continue to pump yourself up and down on him. He’s still so hard, aching and desperate for release. He casts a feral smile at you.

“Keep fuckin’ yourself on it,” he tells you.

You nod and he watches your plump mouth curl into a smile.

"You wanna fuck me full of your cum, daddy?"

Without warning Joel suddenly goes rigid.

You think he's going to come but instead he's red-faced and gripping your waist. He pulls you off of him, his cock still hard and throbbing, slick from your earlier release. He shakes his head, panting.

"Fuck. No. We gotta stop."

"But---"

"This ain't right," Joel insists, tucking himself still hard back into his jeans with shaking fingers as you arch up.

"But I want to."

"And if you keep going I'm not gonna be able to stop you," Joel lets out a shaky laugh, unsmiling as he tilts down to grab your dress. He passes it to you politely averting his eyes; as if this belated gesture means anything after all he’s done and seen. You frown.

"Joel."

"I'm married and you're Sarah's friend. If that wasn't enough, I'm also two decades older than you."

"I like older men," you insist, trying to swing your thigh over his. Joel stops you, hand pressing you back gently.

"You're too young to know what you want," Joel says sharply.

"That's not true."

Joel surveys your face for a moment, concern softening the edges of his expression.

"You just got dumped by the boy you love. You’re not thinking properly."

"No," you shake your head. "That's not it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," you say, hands reaching for his zipper again. "I just want this."

Joel shakes his head gently, fingers gripping your wrist and pulling you off of him firmly.

"Honey you gotta stop," he says, taking your hand and placing it back in your lap. "This ain't you."

You don't like how Joel is looking at you, like he's peeling your skin from your body, peering in to see what he shouldn't.

"I could make you feel so good," you promise him, hand coming to palm him through his jeans once more. "Our little secret."

You see his resolve waver before his hand grabs your wrist, pulling you off of him. He's looking at you with concern, with compassion. With pity. It makes the sting of his rejection more potent. You pull on your dress now, feeling the first pangs of humiliation starting.

"You need to go, honey. Right now."

Now that the moment is sobering you feel a flash of panic.

"Are you gonna tell Sarah?"

"No." Joel shakes his head. "I'm not gonna tell anyone. But I think maybe you shouldn't come around here for the next little bit."

"I understand," you say staggering to a stand. He walks you to the door in awkward silence. He opens the door and then he finally speaks.

"You are a beautiful, smart woman. Don't let one idiot make you forget."

You eyes grow misty and you give a shallow nod before turning.

"Thank you, Joel."

#pedro pascal #Joel Miller #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #tlou joel #joel x reader #joel the last of us #AU #AU Joel MIller #Joel x Reader #Joel x You #Joel x OC #smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x original character

621 notes · View notes

cozy-writes-things · 6 months ago

Text

Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

#electric dreams 1984 #ai x reader #artificial intelligence x reader #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams edgar #electric dreams x reader #electric dreams #edgar electric dreams #i love edgar #electric dreams edgar x reader #electric dreams 1984 x reader #objectum

412 notes · View notes

harmonicakai · 9 months ago

Text

Mr. Know It All

Pairing: Taehyun x Reader

Summary: When you finally find yourself sleeping over at Taehyun’s dorm, you start to wonder if you and him could ever be something more serious.

Tropes: friends with benefits, mutual pining, angst, fluff, college AU, tutor!taehyun

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of sex (mdni), LOTS of overthinking

A/N: This is unedited and I wrote it all in one go lol <3

"And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before" —Songbird, Fleetwood Mac

Taehyun doesn’t know how to tell you that things aren't and never have been casual between the two of you.

It started one rainy afternoon after a study session in the library. The two of you had run through the deluge into the safety of his dorm room, and when he peeled off his wet clothes to change, you didn’t look away.

So, one semester later, right after you’ve finished moaning his name, he struggles to find the words to ask you to stay the night.

He hates watching you gather up your things and leave, refusing to be held by him for even a moment after both of you have finished what you came here for.

“Y/N,” he manages to get out, his voice barely above a whisper. You turn away from the door, your hair still messy, eyeliner smudged. “It’s raining.”

It’s code for “I love you. Please don’t leave.”

“Right,” you say, glancing out the window. Lightning flashes throughout the small dorm, with the crash of thunder following shortly after. Only a fool would leave in this weather. “I don’t have an umbrella.”

“You can stay,” Taehyun says, patting the bed beside him. You nod, crossing over and settling under the warm blanket. Despite how often you’re here in this position, it’s never under these circumstances.

“It seems like the rain is always bringing us together,” you laugh. You’re careful not to say anything loud enough for his roommate to hear through the walls, although in retrospect, you’ve never considered your volume when in bed with Taehyun before.

It’s awkward. Before any of this started, he was just the guy who helped you out with your math problem sets. Add in the perfect distraction from actually sitting down and having a conversation with each other, and you barely knew anything about him.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, already sliding off of the twin sized mattress with a pillow in his arms. “I don’t want to bother you.”

You note how between sleeping next to you and on the floor, he’s decided that the latter is more bearable.

Usually, the two of you are in perfect sync. He knows how to please you better than any other guy you’ve been with, making sure to do things the exact way that you like. Sometimes, you worry that he doesn’t think the same of you.

Are there other girls? You don’t see him as often as you’d like to, but maybe he’s just busy with other things. Kang Taehyun, the chronic overachiever and golden boy of SNU. What would he even want with a girl like you?

Surely, he spends all of his free time studying and going to band practice, you tell yourself.

At this point, your racing thoughts are never going to let you fall asleep.

“Taehyun,” you say, hoping you aren’t waking him up. You haven’t taken your eyes off the ceiling since he moved to the floor, half out of guilt that he’s even down there, and half worried you’ll catch yourself staring at him while he sleeps.

“Yeah?” he answers, his voice low. You wonder what it sounds like when he sings with his band. Maybe, if he asks you to, you’ll go to one of his concerts soon.

You hesitate, wondering whether or not he’ll say yes. “Can you come back up here?”

When you hear him gather his things and stand up, you finally let out the breath that you've been holding. Within seconds, he’s climbing in next to you, his body warm and strong.

“Are you cold?” he asks, pulling the covers up over your collarbone. “Sorry. I think the heater is broken and I haven’t had time to call maintenance.”

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly,” you confirm, although the temperature is fine. In fact, it might even be a little too hot.

“I can, uh,” Taehyun starts. You’ve never heard him stutter before. “I can hold you, if you want. That might help.”

“That would be nice,” you say, mentally cringing at how formal the exchange is. He positions himself behind you, snaking his arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back.

“Is this better?” he asks, his voice still shaky. You worry that this level of intimacy is making him uncomfortable, but he nestles his head over your shoulder in a way that makes you finally stop overthinking. Maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way you do.

“Yes,” is all you manage to squeak out. He lets out a quiet laugh in relief before pressing a kiss into your shoulder blade. The small gesture sends a shockwave through your body.

“You’re cute,” he says, snuggling into you further. Is this really what things would be like if you didn’t run away after every hook up? It seems like second nature to him, making you question whether it actually means anything.

Still, he doesn’t bother to touch you now like he’s always dying to after you show up to class in a short skirt or send him a risky text when you know he’s running office hours.

“I can hear you thinking,” he mutters, startling you. You break away from his grasp to turn and face him, his piercing eyes already fixed on you. “Is something wrong, Y/N?”

“No,” you attempt to lie, although your face says otherwise. Taehyun feels you stiffen in his arms, your gaze locked on his.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he concedes, his voice icy and monotone. “But I know something is wrong.”

How could he know that? What could Taehyun possibly know about you besides what you look like with your clothes off?

When he first got assigned to tutor you, he had scolded you for being late, and again for being unorganized. If you don’t open up to him now, he might actually revert to the same cold demeanor as before.

Even worse, he might stop meeting up with you. With the school year ending next month, you’ll have no excuse to see each other anymore. The thought of being alone again brings you to tears.

Taehyun’s expression softens at the sight of you breaking down. “I’m sorry,” you cry, burying your face into his chest. His hand reaches up to stroke your hair, the other gently rubbing your back. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”

“I do,” he sighs. You pull back just enough to look up at him through teary eyes. “I pushed things between us too far. I should’ve known that you wanted to keep things casual. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stare at him, awestruck at how wrong he is. You want nothing more than to know anything and everything about him.

Still, when you search for the right words to explain this, your brain draws a blank. The only thing you can do is cup his face and kiss him, your nerves finally settling when he melts into you.

You’ve kissed him hundreds of times by now, but this one feels like the first time.

It feels like forever before he pulls away from you, a wide grin on his face. “Please, please, please let me take you out to dinner.”

“Okay,” you smile back, unable to contain your giddiness. “I’d like that very much.”

“Tomorrow night?” he proposes. His eagerness makes you giggle. He might be the busiest person on campus, but he’ll clear his entire schedule if it means he gets to spend time with you.

“Sure,” you agree. “It’s a date. If we ever manage to get out of bed, that is.”

Taehyun laughs a little before pulling you into another kiss. By now, the rain has stopped, but you aren’t going anywhere.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @beomgyubabybear @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don't want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to make a note <3

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt fic #txt x reader #taehyun x reader #taehyun #kang taehyun #txt taehyun #taehyun fluff #taehyun smut #taehyun angst #txt fluff #txt angst #txt smut #taehyun imagines

546 notes · View notes

kisses4reid · 9 months ago

Text

convenient pt.4 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 3 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - you don’t need help with your biology anymore, you need help understanding the chemistry that seems to be growing between you and spencer.

warnings - jealousy, dickhead guy, unwanted flirting, awkward spencer, mentions of getting run over and pouring rain, studying.

genre - college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer, fluff, angst if you squint, jealousy trope

a/n - i hope you all enjoy this part. comment or put in a req to be added to the convenience taglist, if you’ve already asked and i haven’t mentioned you please message orso i can make sure you’re on my list for the next part! love you all 🫶

sat in a plush office chair, in a cool room, in a comfortable dress shirt, surrounded by the people he trusted most, spencer couldn’t seem to live in the moment.

now that’s not something you would suggest to the man when he’s sat in front of multiple gruesome photos and case files, usually he would be 100% focused, no bullshit, no wandering thoughts.

but suddenly he felt light, airy, like these cases were just another day and he would be confident either way. it wasn’t completely untrue, but it was odd. everyone else seemed to notice.

“spencer, are you okay?” aaron hotchner startled the man with his stern and concerned voice, everyone looking up at spencer as a natural reaction. spencer looked around the table, noticing a growing grin between garcia and morgan.

hotch continued, “if you need to sit this one out, by all means.”

spencer shook his head and adjusted his posture, picking up a profile to skim over. there was a small giggle from garcia that brought the attention of aaron.

“what’s going on?”

“reid’s distracted because of a certain someone…” morgan replied, biting the end of his ballpoint pen. garcia slapped his shoulder.

“don’t tease him, meanies. keep going, hotch.”

they were right. he was distracted and felt far away most of the time. he wanted to go somewhere comfortable, like a convenience store with a pretty employee to talk to.

ricky, a handsome guy a few years older than you, was annoying logan with questions he could’ve answered himself. he tagged along with logan to your weekend study session at a small cafe not far from the college. the tall man was mostly agreeable, except for his apparent obsession with straight black coffee. he had had two cups of it already.

“so, y/n. what do you study? wait don’t tell me. nursing, because you seem to be healing my broken heart. psychology, because you’re making me crazy? or is it music, because your voice is like a song?” he leaned forward from across the table, disregarding the punch in the shoulder from logan. you only glared and returned to your expensive textbooks, leaving your drink to turn cold in its abandonment.

“don’t try anything, ricky. she’s basically taken.” she warned with a smirk. you lifted your gaze and rolled your eyes,

“you’re nonsensical. you’ve had too much coffee,” you stop filling out a questionnaire, “he’s not even that… he’s… ugh, i don’t know.” you place your pen down and stretch in the stiff wooden chair.

ricky laughs, clapping his hands together, “okay so you totally have a crush on a guy.”

“i do not.”

“i guess i’ll back off with my advances, unlessss, you truly don’t have a crush on your lover boy?”

“i do not- but still please back off, you’re gross.”

logan and ricky shared a glance and went back to their work silently. like they knew something you didn’t. your brain had turned stuffy, you need to get some air, you needed to get away from the truth.

garcia and morgan appeared so suddenly spencer thought turbulence had pushed them into their seats in front of him. his gaze snapped from the airplane wing to their two giddy faces and immediately knew what this conversation was going to be about. it only made him a little bit uncomfortable, these types of conversations. girls, flirting, being happy around someone he doesn’t work with, it was all unfamiliar. it seemed he chose the best people to talk about it to though; garcia had given him a little too much information about his crush from her unwanted snooping, and in the process morgan was also given all of this information.

“yes, okay, i told derek all about your girl but i couldn’t help it! he’s very persuasive!” garcia pouted. spencer thinned his lips and nodded, expecting a surge of conversation but he was only met with silence. morgan and garcia shared a glance.

“look, spencer. we’re only doing this to distract ourselves from the case we just closed, and to help you. if you don’t want help, if you think this… thing, will die out, then tell us. but, if you do want some adviceee…” morgan spoke smoothly, quiet enough to avoid attention from anyone else.

when spencer stayed silent, thinking about how he could never use you as a distraction, morgan whispered, “if nothings happening, you gotta light the match.”

you were standing on an uneven step ladder when the doorbell rang with 10 minutes to closing. you rolled your eyes, thinking you’d have to stay even later because of this customer. but your demise quickly turned to calmness, a little bit of panic, when spencer appeared in the entry way.

you nearly fell off the ladder, dropping the pile of juice boxes in your hands onto the floor. you cursed under your breath, watching from above as spencer picked them up for you.

“thank you.”

there was no need for formalities anymore, it was like you had known each other forever. spencer was silent again, it was becoming his thing.

you clear your throat, “i changed my medication.”

he glanced at you, brown eyes observing your tired expression. he came here unconsciously. he had already had some take out, he didn’t need any coffee, and his fruit bowl was stocked to the brim. spencer walked to this convenience store, the result of the action being evident through the pain in his feet.

the phone in your back pocket caught spencer’s attention, before he promptly looked elsewhere to avoid looking like a creep.

“good, im glad.”

are we really back to this? was one awkward conversation all we needed to go back to strangers?

you stepped down, “no more bruises.”

spencer placed his fingers delicately on his healed cheek, holding back a smile that you actually remembered that.

he asked, “who’s texting you so much?” without much thought. he didn’t think about how it sounded, like he was protective or worried, or what it implied. he didn’t even have your number, why should he be so upset?

“oh it’s just logan and ricky.” you replied simply, folding up the ladder and glancing at the clock placed above the register desk, “are you getting anything?”

because it didn’t seem weird if he came here for you instead of his groceries.

“like your brother, ricky?”

there was a small match burning in his stomach at the sound of those names. he felt like taking your phone and snooping until he reached the end, until his fingers hurt. spencer felt like asking intrusive questions, before he bit his lips to stop himself.

you made notice of his hands fiddling in his pant pockets, rolling your eyes. that made his tongue slip.

“how many guys do you know?”

you looked at him with surprise, walking over to the register, “you think i’m a whore?”

spencer’s heart skipped a beat, “no not at all, i just- i didn’t word that right.”

you shook your head and laughed quietly, starting to count the change sat on your swivel chair. something was off. the street was empty. “did you walk here, spencer?”

spencer’s breath hitched. oh god, were the only words circling in his brain. when you used his name, it was different. this was weird, he needed to get out of there.

you looked so effortless. he looked so anxious.

“yeah. i did.”

you nod, “okay, you can help me lock up then.” you pass him a set of keys for the window covers, and add, “you can walk me home, to make up for the other day.”

spencer nods with a small smile and begins locking up.

you lead the way out of the store and around the corner to a set of traffic lights. the streets are silent and misty, but neither of you felt the need to jay walk in an attempt to speed up this process of awkward walking.

spencer watches you from his advantage point. at how you bite the inside on your lips, how you look at the concrete pathway.

“what’s wrong?” you don’t react, instead push the pedestrian button and sigh.

“it’s monday, spencer. you were going to ‘retry’, ‘be better’? i’m not 100% sure what you meant by that, but you said that right after you told me you were going to ask me out so.”

spencer gulps and nods, hands going back to their safe space in his pockets. “yeah, i said that. but i’m going to have to delay that again. this isn’t really,” he motioned towards the weeds, litter, and flickering street lights with his eyes, and you nod with a smirk.

“romantic?”

“romantic.”

you smile at each other, and for a second he’s utterly entranced before a wave of wind and tires pass him. before a soft hand is hard on his upper arm. his eyes trailed the car, heart beating nearly as hard as it does when he looks at you.

“jesus, are you okay?” you asked worried, and when he nods with a simple stare accompanying it, you look away.

light a match.

you hand leaves him quicker than it got there.

in front of your apartment building, you notice logan’s window alight behind white curtains, and turn to face spencer.

“thank you for walking me home. i would invite you in but it’s 1:20am and i don’t really… know you.”

spencer furrows his eyebrows slightly, looking at you expectantly. your faces turns cold, slightly sorrowful.

“spencer, i don’t know you. i know things about you but i don’t actually know you.” you yawn, wiping a hand over your eyes, “maybe i’m just tired and overworked and…” logan’s voice echoes through your head as you look over the tall, tired and handsome man in front of you, “if you’re not going to ask me out first i’m going to ask you out. so, make a decision.”

it felt wrong being so stubborn and solid with him, but with school and family stress you truly didn’t need any unknown feelings to topple on as well.

spencer was taken aback. he didn’t know one couple where the girl asked out the guy, he didn’t know someone could like him that badly. he didn’t know what to say.

“goodnight, spencer. i’ll see you.”

you turned and pushed on the pull door, before pulling on it. heart thumping in your ears, you slowly held a hand over your mouth, impressed with yourself.

but you lied, you weren’t going to ask him out. you have no idea how to ask someone out.

the convenience store wasn’t so lonely tonight.

logan was arguing with ricky over his choice in deodorant almost louder than the terrible radio music playing throughout the store.

the beating of rain was creating a calming background to this chaos, as well as keeping customers away. all but one, of course.

spencer had an excuse, he was supposed to bring food for the team tomorrow, and this was the closest store. totally. but as he stood under the cover of the stores overhead steel, he felt another match being burnt in the bottom of his stomach.

a tall and toned man with bright blonde hair was leaning over your register and talking to you, making you smile and laugh. your arms were crossed, you were leaned away and you avoided eye contact, but spencer didn’t see any of these signs as the waves of jealousy drowned him.

spencer looked out onto the street. he had no right to feel that way, this was his own fault. he felt even weirder and out of place than he usually felt.

the doorbell rang and your fake smile turned real. logan watched from the toilet spray section and smirked when she recognised the purple-sweater adorned man. ricky stopped his flirting and turned to meet spencer’s eyes, they sized each other up. the blonde man smiled and looked back at your much happier face, “so this is lover boy?”

you smacked his arm hard, receiving a squeal in return. “what? no. ricky this is spencer, spencer this is ricky.”

spencer gulped and ignored the stranger and you. he went for the fruits section. ricky glanced at your confused face, “i might be a threat.”

“in your dreams.” you rolled your eyes and pushed his elbow off your desk. logan approached the counter with a basket full and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. you noticed ricky’s change in expression when looking at her and held back a smile.

“you didn’t get anything for me?” he asked, voice teasing. logan took out a block of mint chocolate and threw it at him, which he caught perfectly with a smirk on his face.

“what’s wrong with lover boy?”

you glare at her, deciding avoiding that nickname was out of the picture. your shoulders slump as you begin scanning her items while making sure spencer wasn’t in earshot. “i mentioned you two, and then he went weird.”

“i mean, if i liked a girl and she told me about two guys- sorry, two people with guy names- i’d be pretty jealous,” ricky inputted.

“is that all? some jealousy got to his head?” logan pressed.

you seriously doubted he would be jealous over that, he seemed smarter than that. he was smarter than that.

logan paid and left, literally dragging ricky behind her, as he waved and winked at you through the windows.

the store was eerily quiet, the only noise coming from the thunderstorm brewing outside. it felt uncanny and uncomfortable. you needed someone’s cologne to wade through or something.

turning while shaking your head, you grabbed out some posters taller than you and turned to have the life scared out of you.

“jesus! i thought i told you to walk louder.”

his groceries were perfectly in line to be scanned, a small smile appearing before promptly vanishing. spencer avoided your eyes, a beating all he could hear.

“he’s your…”

you sighed, disappointed spencer even thought that dumb blonde was someone to you, “acquaintance.” you finished his sentence. “i’ve known him for two days and he a flirtatious dick. everyone named ricky is a dick.”

he pulls out his slim wallet to hand you a $20 bill, fingers skimming each other. one glance.

spencer nods and nearly leaves before you stop him, “can you help me?”

spencer is on the top of the ladder outside, barely staying dry underneath the steel overhead cover with the top corners of a food poster in his hands. you tip toe to give him a piece of double sided tape. the laminated photos wave in the wind, spencer sticks his tongue out in concentration and you smile at the innocent act. leaning against the wall, quickly glancing inside to make sure nobody wanted to check out, you begin talking.

“thank you for doing this, i totally would’ve fallen and died if it weren’t for you. what can i do to repay you?”

spencer thought for a moment, looking down at you, “nothing. you don’t have to do anything. just keep talking.”

so you did, because you didn’t know if you’d see him again after tonight.

PART 5

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker @c-losur3 @v1ckycheesue @ackermans-angel @scarlettssub @fictionlurker @lovelyygirl8 @momooooca @random-kimmy @leabunny @cultish-corner @doigettokeepyou @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @hinataboke @wenttohogwarts @yaboohah @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @drewsandsebastianswife @hoeshissworld @flow33didontsmoke @bookworm124 @violetvsworld

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #cm #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x yn

682 notes · View notes

logoleptic-since-06 · 2 months ago

Text

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

✮ Pairing: Satoru x Fem!Reader

✮ Content: Fem!Reader, Non-Sorcerer AU, College Setting, Mentions of Family and Financial Issues, Mentions of Other JJK Characters, Language, Smut (Fingering, Cunillingus), Slight Angst, Fluff, Dislike to Love, Mentions of Smoking, Slowburn, Not Proofread

Based On This Concept I Made

✮ A/N: I know I said I will not be writing fics for the concepts I made, but I love this trope too much to not have written it.

★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ -> Some songs this was inspired by (I know I listen to white girl music, what about it?) ✮ Also heavily inspired by the book The Deal by Elle Kennedy.

✮ Word Count: 4.6k

MDNI

“This was your last chance, Gojo, I’m gonna have to revoke your captaincy.”

“Please, coach,” Satoru’s usual cocky tone was replaced with desperation, “One more chance, please. My econ test scores came out today, and I’m confident I did well. Just consider this for once.”

Coach Yaga pauses for a second, “Listen, kid, I will consider it for now, but it’s really not on me. College rules say athletes can’t have more than three F’s. And according to that, I should bench you till you get your grades up.”

His eyes widen. “What? No, you can’t bench me, I’m your best player!”

“You know it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck…” he murmurs in frustration. His econ test, that he has already given, is his last straw. If he fucks this one up, he will be benched until he gets his grades up. Basketball tournament season is right around the corner, and being in his senior year of college means his professional recruitments will start this season. Being benched is far from an option he wants to go for.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

He fails.

He fucking fails the test that he was so sure he’d pass.

“And then he benched me,” he groans as he finishes telling the story to his friend group/housemates/teammates. He looks at Suguru, his oldest and closest friend, “Oh, and he made you the captain for the time being, by the way.”

Suguru simply shrugs. “Then get your grades up and re-secure your spot. I won’t even be going pro, you need this.”

"We are all rooting for you, Gojo," Haibara's over-enthusiastic voice speaks. Haibara and Nanami are in their junior year, and Haibara is probably Satoru and Suguru's biggest hype-man, despite playing in the same team.

“I’ve tried, you know I have. I don’t know what else to-” Satoru stops as an idea strikes his head. He tilts his head towards Nanami, “Hey, Nanami.” “No,” he says simply.

“I didn’t even-”

“Whatever you ask, no.” “Tutor me, you’re like the only smart person I know.” “I’m your junior.”

“We have the same course, we study the same thing in the same class.”

“Fuck, you’re such a manchild,” Shoko’s bored voice speaks as she takes a puff from her cigarette.

“Don’t smoke in our house,” Satoru scolds her, causing her to flip him off.

“Although,” Shoko sits up from laying against the couch, “I might have someone that can help you. My roommate.”

Shoko doesn’t live with the others, but Satoru has never heard of her roommate before. “Your roommate, huh?” he repeats lazily.

Nanami snorts, “Y/N? She’s in my year and I doubt she’ll ever help him.”

Shoko nods, “You can try if you’re desperate enough.” She takes another puff of her cigarette. “Offer her tons of money.”

Satoru thinks for a second, “She can be convinced using money? That’s perfect, I have money.”

Everyone except Haibara rolls their eyes.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Having finished your last assignment of the day, you relax back against your chair, taking in the hushed ambience of the library. It was a stressful, but productive day. You only relax for a split second before a wave of anxiety gushes over you– you’ve recently lost your job at the local barista due to it being shut down. It was the only place close to the campus you can get a job at, and there is no way you could afford a living on campus without a job.

You decide to get up and head to your dorm room instead of musing upon your issues. As you begin to pack your things into your tote bag, you see a tall, white-haired figure sit across from you at the table with a bright smile on his face that shows off his dimples.

Satoru Gojo?

The star athlete is Shoko’s childhood best friend. Ever since she became your roommate in your freshman year as a sophomore, you’ve only heard tales of him and Suguru Geto. You’ve seen them around the campus, of course, but you’ve always chosen peace over any interaction with them. People flock around them like a group of fans rushing over to buy tickets for a sold-out concert. Arrogance seeps out of him every time he walks through a door, making every head turn towards him.

“Hi,” he says, looking straight into you. You look behind you, trying to see if he is talking to someone else. “No, I’m talking to you. Y/N, right?”

The sound of your name in his voice sounds weird. How did he know who you were?

He continues, “I am–”

“I know who you are.” You cut him off for a reason that is unknown to even yourself. He tilts his head in confusion, but you can tell it's not from the knowledge of you knowing his name but rather from the fact that you are wearing an annoyed expression on your face right now. You almost feel bad but it's not like you can help it, you just lost your job and it is not easy for a girl from a middle class family to survive in this environment filled with some of the richest brats in the city, Satoru Gojo included.

“I need your help.” Every word that comes out of his mouth sounds so foreign, you wouldn’t have imagined them in your wildest dreams.

“My help?” Why is he talking to you?

“I need you to tutor me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We are in the same classes together. I need someone to tutor me because I’m failing my classes and if I’m benched and won’t be able to play until I pass them. And if I don’t play this season, I won’t be recruited to go pro, so basically my entire future is in your hands.”

Your disturbed grimace is probably a little too noticeable, because the next words that come out of his mouth are, “Why are you making that face?” He says it with such innocent confusion, you almost give in.

“I don’t even know you,” you finally say, your voice sounds bored.

“But you are the best I can find.”

“Why can’t you hire a professional tutor?”

“Because then my parents will know, and they can’t know.”

“That’s not my problem.” “God, you’re insufferable,” he exasperates, “I’ll pay. A lot.”

That gets your attention. You raise an eyebrow. “How much?”

He sits up and excitedly takes a piece of paper and pen, writes down an amount, and slides the paper towards you.

One look at the paper and your eyes go wide. He wrote an hourly rate and as you do the quick math in your head, you realize this would pay twice the amount you got as a barista.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says firmly.

“And you will cooperate?”

“Of course, I need this, Y/N.” Will you ever get used to your name on his tongue?

“When and where?”

“Five days a week, so all working days. My house? It’s off campus. Give me your number, I’ll send you the location.” “I know where you live, I’ve dropped Shoko off to yours before. And yeah it works.”

“Great! Thanks so much, Y/N; you’re a lifesaver.” In the blink of an eye, he gets up and leaves you stranded at the library table.

Lifesaver… The word echoes through your head. You’ve been called that so many times, it doesn’t even mean anything anymore. You’ve been a lifesaver to your classmates for sharing your homework with them, or giving them answers during a test; you’ve been a lifesaver to your parents when you volunteered to look after your younger siblings, or when took care of dinner; you’ve been a lifesaver to your siblings for helping them study, or for solving any problem they’ve had.

Even now, as you study in an elite university where the annual tuition is more than what your family earns in a year, you push yourself to work hard and maintain a scholarship, and work two jobs while simultaneously being a full-time student– just so you don’t have rely on someone else for anything, even if they’re your parents.

At least Satoru Gojo is willing to pay you a good amount for being a so-called ‘lifesaver’. Sure, there was a time when you thought money couldn’t buy you happiness, but spending so much time amongst your classmates made you realize it’s quite the opposite. Money brings you respect and recognition, and one day, you will have both of them, you are sure of it. For now, you are at peace with the fact that you are nothing but a phantom made up of invisible smoke, haunting the hallways until someone needs her.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The next day, you find yourself on the doorstep of your new student’s house. You shake off your unwanted anxiety and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opens, revealing a tall figure with long luscious dark hair.

Suguru Geto, certified asshole number two (one is Gojo, of course). He looks down at you with a slight smirk. Seriously, what’s so funny? He motions you to come in.

“Satoru’s upstairs in his bedroom,” he drawls.

“Can you call him?”

He pauses for a second before answering, “Sure thing.” His gaze doesn’t avert from you as he calls out his name. Why is he so ominous? Why is Shoko friends with them?

Gojo comes out of his bedroom and stands by the stairway as he calls you up enthusiastically. You head upstairs and he leads you to his lavish bedroom and closes the door behind the two of you.

“So,” he says as he plops down on his bed, “Where do we start?”

“Let’s go through your assignments first.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

After an hour of tutoring, Satoru is officially done with his first tutoring session. He thinks you are a little odd with your bored yet annoyed expressions, yet he can’t stop but think you’re cute. He clearly gets the vibe that you aren’t the biggest fan of his as whenever he asked you a question about anything other than studies in the past hour, you had simply glared at him. It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever.

It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever. Since every question that he asks you about basketball is also either met with a glare or a “Finish this first, then we’ll talk.”

Your annoyance doesn’t matter to Satoru– if anything, he’s loving the fact that he’s getting on your nerves. It isn’t just you– annoying people has always been his specialty. Despite being the captain and the strongest player, his cheery demeanor is always met with eye rolls or groans of displeasure.

Sure, girls around him would die to be with him– even for a moment– but if it’s not for sleeping around, he isn’t quite ever wanted. He tells himself he is okay with it, that if they don’t want him, he will turn himself into someone they need. Which is exactly what he did; and now, without him, the team will fall apart.

Once the tutoring session is over, he hits you with a similar question, a cheeky grin plastered on his beautiful face. “So, you ever been to any of our games?”

“No,” you answer simply.

“Why not?”

“I’m not interested in sports.”

“None at all?”

“None at all.”

“What ECAs did you have in highschool?” You look up at him. “I had plenty. Why do you wanna know?”

He shrugs. “Curiosity.” You sigh. “I was in the debate club, I worked for the school magazine, hosted multiple events, wrote articles, did internships, signed up for a bunch of award programs.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide. “And your SATs?”

“1560.”

Fuck. Satoru back in highschool was even bigger of a menace than he is now. With an SAT score of 1230 and basketball as the only ECA, it almost seems unfair to him now that both you and him are in the same university– one earned while the other given. Satoru never feels bad for exploiting his family’s money, after all, that’s the only thing they are willing to give him. But seeing someone work this hard– even harder than Nanami– to get to where they are is something Satoru can’t help but be impressed by.

And Satoru isn’t one to be impressed easily.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

A few weeks pass in a breeze and the air now carries the hint of winter, the first fall of snow just around the corner. Students are locked inside their rooms, their heads buried in textbooks trying to prepare for the upcoming exams.

“You better pass this one, Gojo,” you tell him one day as you both are sitting in his room.

“Yes, ma’am.” He makes a salute gesture, causing you to stifle a small smile.

“I don’t wanna be that person, but why don’t you smile much?” His question takes you aback. “I’m not saying you should smile more; do whatever you want. I’m just asking why.”

You shrug simply, the guards you have around you have weakened a little in the past few weeks, but they’re not completely shattered. “I don’t smile without a reason.”

“I crack jokes.”

“You’re not funny.”

He rolls his eyes with a slight smirk tugging up his mouth.

You check the time and your eyes widen. “How long have I been here for?”

He leans back against his chair, “Almost three hours.”

“Shit, I was gonna call Shoko to come pick me up.”

He laughs when he hears that. “Yeah, good luck with that. It’s exam season, she definitely has her phone turned off right now.” Catching the worried expression on your face, he adds, “Do you want me to drop you off?”

You think for a while, trying to figure out other possibilities. Once you fail to do so, you feel your guards cracking a little more as you answer, “Okay.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The drive from his house to your campus dorm is a short one. Yet, something in you makes you want to stir up a conversation.

“So what made you start playing basketball?”

His eyes don’t drift from the road when he answers. “You know my dad, right? He was a professional basketball player. It’s all I’ve known ever since I can remember.”

You won’t admit it out loud, but you are impressed to see him be so passionate about something. “So, you’re close to your dad?”

The chuckle he lets out sounds almost bitter. “No, no, I’m not. I was sent to a boarding school when I was very young. Grew up there. Met Suguru and Shoko. Been home very less. My school’s coach was more of a father figure than my own dad ever was.”

Something pangs in your chest as you let his words sink in. “I’m sorry…”

“Nah, don’t be. It’s cool, you know? My parents were too busy with their own lives, I was busy with mine– it’s just what I’m used to.”

“So you don’t contact them?”

“When I need something, sure.” He pauses for a second. “I know what you think of me, okay?” His voice has a hint of sincerity now. “You think of me as some spoiled brat who loves to spend daddy’s money. And you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am that, shamelessly. But this is only because I realized at a very early age that money was the only way they would be present in my life, so I decided to exploit the shit out of it.”

You don’t have an answer to what he said. His experience of family is unique and unrelatable to you in every way. “I would’ve done the same if I were in your shoes,” you say, not quite believing your words. “You shouldn’t feel bad. You’re doing a great job.”

He looks at you like you hung the moon. “You think so?”

You try to hide your surprise at his reaction. “Yeah, I mean, you’re the captain of the team and the strongest player. You’ve been working so hard to get your grades up this semester, I’ve seen your dedication.”

He smiles at you– not his usual cheeky smirk, but a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me, Gojo, I’m just stating an observation.”

“Satoru.”

“What?”

“Call me Satoru. It’s what my friends call me.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Are we friends?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were nice to me just now. I doubt you’re nice to a lot of people.”

“Well…” you trail off.

“Well…?” he echoes as he stops his car in front of my dorm building.

You unbuckle my seatbelt. “Maybe a conversation for another day. Thanks for the ride, Go– Satoru.”

He smiles for a split second before it is wiped away and replaced with a pondering expression. “Wait–”

You stop before you can open the car door. “Yeah?”

“Let me walk you to your room.”

It’s your turn to smile now. “I can walk myself to the dorm, Satoru.”

“It’s late.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“Come on.”

He’s so cute– wait what? Why would your mind go there? That’s Satoru Gojo, a certified college whore.

“Fine, walk me to my dorm room,” you hear yourself say. What is wrong with you?

The two of you get out of the car and begin to walk towards the building gate. The midnight air sways against your face while your cardigan protects the rest of your body. The place is quiet, only crickets heard amongst the trees. The moonlight reflects on the cars parked in the parking lot as you and Satoru walk through it.

“So you were saying?” He breaks the silence.

“What?”

“You said ‘Well…’,” he points out.

You chuckle softly as you look away to the ground. “Nothing really… you said you doubt I’m nice to a lot of people; I was gonna say I don’t talk to a lot of people to begin with.”

He looks at you with his head tilted in confusion. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “Not a lot of people approach me here, you know? I just… exist, I guess. I mean, I’ve got Shoko. I talk to Nanami and Utahime sometimes. I’m not completely friendless, so that’s nice.”

“Three people in a college with around 20,000 students isn’t really… you know…” He trails off.

You feel the walls around you crumble a little as you speak. “I know, I know. But like I said, no one approaches me, which makes sense. And I’m not one to randomly approach people. Not great with social cues.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Why would you say it makes sense for no one to approach you?”

Why was he asking you so many questions? You can’t remember the last time someone had been interested in getting to know you in this way.

“I’m a scholarship student, I’m not exactly…” You try to think of a word, “relevant in your social hierarchy.”

He is quiet after you say that, probably trying to figure out how to respond to that. So instead, you continue, “It doesn’t matter to me. I always think that if they don’t want me, I’ll make myself needed. I’ll become an important person. My parents may not be rich, but who says I can’t be?”

“So you’re really ambitious,” he says. “I mean, I kind of got that from er– your constant hustle.”

You laugh at his remark, appreciating his humor instead of showing you pity like most would.

The two of you begin to walk up the stairs to your floor when he asks, “Which floor is it again?”

“Second.”

“Right… I’ve never been here. Shoko’s always coming over to ours to hang out.”

“The three of you must be really close.” He nods. “Yeah, well, five now actually. Nanami and Haibara came along during our sophomore year when we moved in together. They are good athletes, so I thought keeping them close would be good for the team.”

You nod as you reach your dorm room and ring the doorbell. When Shoko doesn’t answer, Satoru says, “She’s probably at the library. Or with Suguru.”

You nod at the possibility as you take out your copy of the keys. The jingling echoes through the empty hallway. You unlock the door to reveal your room filled with darkness. Turning on the lights, you politely invite Satoru in, to which he happily obliges.

He casually plops down on your bed, his legs swinging down.

“Make yourself at home, don’t be shy,” you say sarcastically. His phone rings. When he picks it up, you watch his demeanor change as the person on the other side of the phone speaks.

“No, I told you guys to not attend any parties for a month,” he says in a serious tone that’s very unlike him. “We have practice first thing in the morning every day before the season starts, and I will not stand any mishaps.”

Listening to him scold his teammates and watching him be a good captain stirs something unknown in you. It’s so attractive for one to be this responsible and laidback at the same time. Your eyes roam around his big biceps, stopping at the hand that holds the phone against his ear. He has nice hands, you think, wondering how it might feel inside you.

Snap out of it.

You will not throw yourself to him only to be tossed aside. You remind yourself why you’re with him– for a job. A deal that benefits the both of you equally. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then why did you tell him things you’ve never admitted to anyone?

What bothers you more is the fact that he was so interested in getting to know you. The way he is always so grounded around you makes you wonder if your previous perception of him being an arrogant asshole was just a misconception.

He hangs up the phone and smiles sheepishly at you, his dimples denting his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “It was Haibara.”

“It’s fine,” you say as you subconsciously move forward and sit beside him on your bed.

“Hi,” he says as his blue eyes pierce through you.

“Hi,” you smile back at him, unable to stop yourself from wondering what the hell he was doing in your dorm room of all places he could be right now. “Did you have to be somewhere?”

He scrunches his brows. “No, why?”

“No, I thought Haibara needed you or something.”

“Oh no, that’s been dealt with, don’t worry.”

When did you both sit so close together? You can almost feel his breath against your skin. “You have practice early in the morning.”

“I can function with less sleep.” He is almost too quick to answer.

Your faces are only inches away when his eyes fall to your lips. You close your eyes and feel his lips brush against yours. You kiss him back immediately.

Once you give him the green light, he deepens the kiss and you let out a low moan. His tongue enters your mouth as he hovers over you on the bed with you lying on your back. He trails his kisses down your jaw while pressing down to your tit with one hand.

His other hand trails to your inner thighs and you feel the heat pool between your legs. You let out a needy gasp, causing him to contact his lips against yours again while his hand unbuttons your jeans and slides inside them. He rubs your clothed pussy and intoxicated bliss spreads over you.

“Ahh, fuck, Satoru,” you whine. He takes that as a sign and slips his fingers inside your panties. Your eyes roll back when you feel two fingers thrust inside you while his thumb works on your clit.

“Nghh, Satoru, fuck, hahh don’t stop,” you don’t even know how loud you’re being, neither do you care right now.

As you say that, he takes his hand out of your pants, which makes you squirm needily. He positions himself such that he is facing between your legs. He reaches for the hem of your jeans as you lift your hips up and he pulls them down, followed by your panties, leaving your bottom bare in front of him.

He finally brings his face closer to your heat and licks a long stripe along the slit your pussy. You moan out in utter pleasure, spreading your legs further for better access. He begins to nibble at your clit, making you see splashes of euphoria in front your eyes. The pleasure is too all-consuming for you to even think of what’s right or wrong, of what you should or should not be doing. And you couldn’t be bothered to care about any of it right now.

He adds two fingers deep in your cunt, hitting the g-spot repeatedly as his mouth sucks on your clit. You feel the pressure build up like waves. “So close, Satoru, don’t stop,” you cry out. The waves crash over the shore with a loud moan escaping your lips.

You lay there panting, recovering from what you would call the best orgasm you’ve had in your life, as he sits up and looks down at you, a proud expression masking that pretty face of his, now all glistening in your juices.

The realization of what you just did hits you the moment the high dies down. You quickly close your legs and sit up, trying to find your panties.

“What happened?” Satoru asks in a concerned tone. You ignore him and put your underwear on.

Once you are done, you finally look at him. “Get out,” you state simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.”

“Did you not like it?”

“Gojo, leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“What’s wrong?” you echo his words. “Everything about this is wrong. I’m your tutor. I work for you.”

“So?”

“So, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s inappropriate.”

“Are you serious? I thought we–”

“No, I don’t know why I told you so much about myself. Starting tomorrow, everything is strictly professional, or I’m gonna have to quit.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say that, you know that, right?” Satoru sounds determined.

“Yes, I very much can. I’m sorry but I simply won’t let you think you can have me like that just because you’re you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is that I know you hook up with like hundreds of girls, and I just don’t want to be another name you tick off on your list.”

He looks exasperated. “You think that’s what you are? A name on a list? First of all, I don’t have a fucking list. Secondly, I don’t hook up with hundreds of girls. I haven’t done that since freshman year.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t have the time to hook up with anyone.”

“You haven’t had sex since your freshman year?” Your voice is softer now.

“Not once.”

“Then why did you…” You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand it.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, really. It felt right.”

You would be lying if you say it didn’t feel right for you. But you don’t tell him that. Instead you ask, “Since when have you wanted to?”

He reveals his dimples at that question, “Since you asked me if I would cooperate with you if you tutored me.”

This brings a chuckle to your voice. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, something about you bossing me around was… you know.”

You laugh at his words. “You’re a dumbass,” you say as you lean forward and take his lips to yours.

163 notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 26 days ago

Note

can I have a sugar cookie, #17, with whipped cream, chestnuts and candy cane?

literally these combos are so much fun

order #17, sugar with whipped cream, chestnuts, and candy cane

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ unusual

tropes: friends to lovers, sick fic, royalty AU characters: jade additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, royalty au didn't make it in here much word count: 600

"So," you start, wringing out a cool cloth and smoothing it over Jade's forehead.

"Let me get this right. Azul can't take care of you because he's studying, and Floyd can't take care of you because you think he's going to... eat you?"

Jade, a pale, shivering mess beneath you, grins. Even in his weakened state, it's unnerving.

"I attempted to do the same to him when we were younger, and I'm sure he's been waiting for his chance to get back at me,"

He says that as if it's a silly prank, or a joke. The twins are weird.

And then he shudders, and goes into another coughing fit. Seeing him like this is almost scarier than seeing him in his unnerving prime.

It's almost... pathetic.

You hesitantly reach out and hold his hand until he's done coughing.

"Ah... ahem... thank you," he says, his voice breathy. "The human form is rather weak."

"You don't get sick where you're from?"

Jade keeps ahold of your hand. "I have people to tend to me, that's all. I'm waited on,"

Of course. He and his brother are so weird, you'd almost forgotten about that. Though, when they say they're they're "heirs" you're pretty sure it's to a criminal empire.

But, oh, well.

"Well, I'm waiting on you. You'll be better in no time," you say.

You take your hand away to open some medicine for him, and Jade just grabs it right back, placing it on his chest.

"And I'm grateful,"

For a moment, you forget where you are and what you're doing, and you just stare.

Another grin pulls at the corners of his lips. "You look frightened. I'm not contagious,"

That snaps you back into place, and you return to tending to him, feeding him a few pills and a generous amount of water.

"I know. You already said that,"

Jade seemingly gets more comfortable in his bed, sighing contentedly as you check the cool cloth on his head again. You've been at his side all day. You were so willing to drop all of your plans to tend to your friend.

It's admirable, in a way. And strange in another.

He looks up at you with something that's almost soft as you replace the cloth.

"Azul isn't studying today. And Floyd most likely would not have eaten me. Neither of them know I'm unwell,"

You stop halfway through wringing out the cloth, turning to him. "What?"

Jade smiles and politely crosses his arms over his chest. "I have a fungal infection. I foolishly disturbed the soil home of a family of spores whilst hiking. I couldn't tell Azul or Floyd, or they would have taken the opportunity to remind me how unusual my interest is. They don't understand it; and they would have blamed my illness on the fungi. But it really wasn't their fault; I should have known better than to disturb their home,"

You blink. He says that all with a merry tone and a smile, but you can feel the vulnerability behind his nonchalance. He's giving it to you on purpose. He wants you to take the bait.

You do.

"...It was an accident. It's no one's fault," you say, sitting beside him again. "And your interest isn't... unusual."

"It's alright if you think it is," Jade smiles. "That doesn't make it bad. You're quite unusual yourself."

Your eyes widen. Since arriving at Night Raven College, you'd been called unusual. Strange, weird, confusing. But never in a kind way.

Never as a compliment.

"...Thank you," you murmur. "You're unusual, too."

"Am I? How flattering,"

Jade chuckles. You smile. He takes your hand in his again. It's quiet, for a short while, and then he starts coughing again, but you stay with him.

Always.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader

262 notes · View notes

theorphicangel · 5 months ago

Text

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

previous chapter < | Next chapter

taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne @strawberryjuice9 @beezusvreeland @faretheeoscar @lunablackcosplay @t4naiis @peachey-pie @mcmiracles @hardlystrictlystarwars @migueloharastruelove @fruityfucker @kingtwhiddleston

Chapter six: stupidity and insensibility

series

You’re an idiot.

And a failure.

Some would suggest a mixture of both.

Following your shift, you went straight back to your dorm room, not bothering to hang out on campus for any moment longer. A benefit of studying the fine craft of English Literature is that you have plenty of independent study hours, a little more than the average college student. Of course, this time should be spent reading, planning and writing essays for your upcoming assignments, but you barely make it down the first page of a Jane Austen novel without bursting into tears.

Ever since your conversation, Miguel’s words repeatedly ring in your ear. His tone and his judgemental facial expression are permanently indented in your mind.

‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for once?’

As much as you hate the guy you can’t help but agree with him. What the fuck did you expect to happen when you set up the advert for his car? That he would get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness? Of course not.

You’re planning to head straight underneath your covers, ready to cry yourself to sleep for the rest of the day when you hear your phone vibrate from the bottom of your bag. After delving through numerous books, notepads, wasted receipts and tissues do you finally find it. And your stomach drops once you see the caller ID.

‘Mom’

And that was just what you needed to make you cry harder.

Sobbing, you collapse to the floor, your mind and body completely frustrated with yourself. If you could dig a deep hole to bury yourself into, you would. If you could press a button to get yourself off this cursed planet, you would. If you could just have the chance to not fuck up your life for one, single second…you would take in a heartbeat.

Midway through your breakdown, a knock was heard at your door. Soon followed by the sound of your roommate calling out your name. Your sobs come to a halt, a hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

And if you could magically turn invisible to spare you from the embarrassment of your roommate catching you having a breakdown on your bedroom floor, you most definitely would.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t reply, frowning at the sound of her voice.

You thought that Lyla was out today, it’s past midday and you assumed that she was out on campus. To be fair, you didn’t really pay attention to your surroundings once you walked into the apartment. You were much too preoccupied in getting to your room before your emotions had gotten the better of you.

“Can I come in?”

You make no reply again. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and feel a migraine begin as a result of your crying.

“Please?” Her voice is muffled from the outside. “I want to help you.”

Her tone is soft, not like the usual ring of playfulness and teasing. You’ve only known her for a little over a month but you can tell that she’s being genuine.

Making it to your feet, you walk over to the door and allow yourself to let her in. To allow yourself to be seen by your roommate with makeup running down your cheeks and tear stains all over your shirt.

“Oh, my love, what’s wrong?” She murmurs, stepping into the room before shutting the door behind her.

“Everything.” You croak out. A fresh set of tears begin to creep up, ready to overspill down your cheeks again. Lyla says no more, instead taking you into her arms, allowing you to cry your heart away.

Your cathartic moment lasts for a good ten minutes before your body and mind are totally exhausted. Lyla rubs tiny circles on your back whilst you hiccup away on your bed. It’s silent between you too, the autumn sun already setting in the distance. You don’t even know how long you’ve been cooped up in your room ever since you arrived from work.

“I know what will cheer you up.” Lyla smiles, waiting for the moment that curiosity hits you.

“What?”

Late night clubbing.

That was Lyla’s medicine. And to be honest, what’s a better treatment than getting blackout drunk to forget all of your shitty problems?

You’re currently in a club that you don’t know the name of. It’s local, not too far from campus and actually not too far from your apartment. It reminds you that you’ve not yet had the chance to explore the city; being so caught up in work, assignments and readings does unfortunately take up the majority of your time.

It’s a small club with very loud music pounding in your ears, the stench of sweat and spilled alcohol is something that you’ve now grown accustomed to after spending the past two hours here. You can barely hear the things that Lyla is saying to you as she orders countless drinks for the both of you.

Right now, you’re on a high. Your entire body feels light and your vision is slightly blurry but you can’t tell as to whether that’s because of the lighting. You can barely remember the meltdown that you had earlier, it seemed like a lifetime ago to you.

After Lyla had found you, she helped you get ready for tonight. You’re slightly surprised that a simple face full of makeup and a short dress with some heels would have cheered you up so easily. You’re happy, happily drinking away your sorrows. The small part of your conscience that remains sober warns of how much you’ll regret it in the morning. And just like any other drunk person would do, you ignore it.

“I can’t hear you!” you shout across to Lyla, failing to lip-read her sentence.

Lyla draws in closer, the scent of her cherry lime tequila on her lips. “I wanna go talk to that girl in the corner.” She mumbles in your ear, now loud enough for you to hear. “Behind me.”

As subtle as you can, you try and take a peek behind Lyla. Squinting, you spot a girl in a black dress in the back corner of the club. She looks around about your age and you’d assume that she’s a first year too. She holds a pink drink, standing with her own group of friends. Every now and then, you notice the girl glancing towards where you and Lyla are standing.

“Oh, girl….”

“I know right! She’s so hot.”

You look back at Lyla, a smile creeping across your face. “Go for it.”

“Lemme take a shot first, y’know? For my confidence.” Giggling, the two of you approach the bar. It’s busy for a weekday evening but you assume that with halloween coming up, most people are in the mood for a night out.

Taking the shot, the liquid burns the back of your throat and the two of you pull disgusted faces at the taste. Brushing herself off, Lyla prepares to make her way over.

“Right, do I look okay?” She dabs a little lip gloss across her lips.

“Gorgeous, girl.” You pat her on the shoulders. “You got this!”

Lyla blows you a kiss goodbye, “I’ll text you if anything happens!” You give her a little thumbs up, watching her make her way over to the girl and her group of friends. A smile slips across your lips at Lyla’s ease of making a conversation, slipping easily into the group.

You turn back, ready to order another drink when you spot a familiar set of eyes from across the other side of the bar. Your smile drops at the sight of Miguel.

“Oh, fuck me.” you mumbled.

Ignore him. That was your plan. Ordering another shot, you decide to drink away the embarrassment of your conversation earlier. You’re not even facing him but you can feel his eyes practically bore into you. Unfortunately, you didn’t look long enough to see who he was with but you hope that he gets the hint and chooses to avoid your awkward situation.

Your hopes come crashing down at the sound of his voice close, very close to you. Just a little turn of your head and you find him standing next to you.

“Don’t you think you should slow down a little?” He judges the pair of shots that you hold in your hands.

“And don’t you think that you should mind your own business? How long have you been watching me?”

“I wasn’t watching.”

“Right,” You pause to take both of the shots, one right after the other. Sure, you were doing a little extra, but if anyone else was in your situation they would do the same.

“And I’m totally trying not to get black out drunk.” You mutter sarcastically, wincing immediately at the after taste.

“Any reason why you’re doing so?”

You snort at his question. Typical. He threatens to call the police on you and now asks why you’re trying to drown your sorrows in cheap alcohol? Men are idiots.

“Why are you even talking to me? Shouldn’t you be busy calling the police on me?” You didn’t hide the frustration in your voice, fiddling with the empty shot glasses in your hands.

Miguel hesitates. That’s a good question. A question that he unfortunately doesn’t have the answer to. But you’re not going to wait around for an answer.

“I’m going to get another shot so if you don’t mind, please leave me alone.”

“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?”

Shit .

You do. An early one too and if you don’t go home now then you’re looking at getting four to five hours sleep max.

But you’re not going to admit that to him. You shrug. “So what?”

“You need to go home.”

“And you need to leave me alone.” You’re already sounding drunk, the multiple drinks that you’ve consumed over the past few hours building up in your system and not in a good way. “I’m waiting for my roommate, she’s somewhere over there.” You stumble a little as you point to the back of the club.

Immediately, Miguel’s hands move to steady you. His large hands touch your waist, keeping you in place. Heat abruptly rises throughout your body, his actions having more of an effect on you than you’d like to admit.

“And you need to go home.” He repeats, his tone a little more stern.

“I said–”

Your sentence is interrupted as you feel your phone vibrate. The screen glows, illuminating your face as you read the texts that pop up on your home screen.

Lylaaaaaaa :) - (Sent at 2:23am)

- I tried looking for you, where did you go? :(((( xx

- also…I’m not coming home tonight wink wink

- Get home safe okay? xx text me when you make it back xx get an uber please! xxxxxx

A sigh leaves your throat, your mood dejected. “She’s not coming back.” you mumble to yourself.

For some superhuman reason that you cannot understand, Miguel manages to hear you over the pounding music.

“I’ll take you home.”

You’re taken aback at his suggestion, your brain malfunctioning for a few seconds.

“Uhmmm, no.”

“Why–”

“Because.” You cut him off before he can even finish.

“That’s not a reason, nena . You can barely stand.”

“Because I hate you and I want nothing to do with you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Drunk enough to know that I still fucking hate you.”

“I should be the one hating you.” he scoffs. “You were the one who tried to sell my car.”

Your anger suddenly boils at the mention of it. You drunkenly point a finger at him, your nail tapping his chest as you speak. “Because you were a fucking asshole to me and wrote a fucking mean ass review about me!”

Miguel scoffs. “You did all this because I was rude to you? Por favorrr Dios, dame fuerza.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a breath. [Please God, give me strength.] “So when your boss criticizes your work you’re just gonna go out and break the law for some petty revenge?”

“But you’re not my boss, that’s the difference.”

“And if I was, I'd fire you in a heartbeat.”

You meet his eyes, the two of you staring at each other unmoving as the music continues. The atmosphere of the club is beginning to get heavy. It’s getting harder to breathe with every minute that passes. You’re not sure whether that’s because there’s too many people here right now or if it’s because you’ve locked eyes with Miguel O’hara.

“I hate you.”

“Ditto here, nena .”

“M’going.” you announce abruptly, turning away from him. You barely make it a few steps away from him before a hand tightly grabs your wrist. You turn back expecting to see Miguel and forcefully push the figure away from you as hard as you can.

“Hey! What the fuck? You made me spill my drink!” are the words of the mouth of a complete stranger.

“Oh shit–”

The stranger's expression turns to an angry frown yet he quickly disappears from view as Miguel stands between the two of you.

“Maybe keep your hands to yourself then, compa.”

Miguel grabs you gently by the arm pulling you away. “Quick, before he gets angry. I think this asshole’s drunk.” He mumbles in your ear, his voice low and raspy.

“Who’s paying for my drink?” are the words that you leave behind to be swallowed up by the music.

Miguel takes you swiftly through the crowd, his height paying off in getting people to move out the way for him. “I’m taking you back to your dorm room. No ifs or buts.”

You barely have an argument to reply back with, your mind preoccupied with trying to make sense of that situation.

Before you know it, you come to a halt in front of a table where a girl who you assume is your age is seated with a drink in her hand. Another person who you don’t know the name of is by her side. Her face lights up at the sight of you and Miguel.

“Jess, I’m going to take her home.”

“Whoa, whoa–”

He sighs, “Ay por dios– not my home. I’m taking her back to her dorm room, she’s someone I know and her drunk ass is gonna pass out any second.”

You observe Miguel’s friend in front of you, golden hoop earrings glistening under the club’s disco lights. You can’t pull your eyes away from her hair, black curls shaping her face.

“You’re really pretty!” you sob, tears beginning to blur your vision.

“Uhhh…thank you?” She raises a brow. “You too!”

You sob even harder, turning to Miguel. “She called me pretty!”

“And we’re going.”

Before you know it you’re whisked off, waving goodbye to a friend that you wanted to get to know better.

Stepping outside of the club, the cool air hits your body. The late October chill makes you shiver, almost regretting your decision at not bringing a thicker coat. Miguel keeps his hand on your wrist, he’s not holding you too tightly but just enough for you to keep your balance. He keeps close to your body, the warmth of him radiating over to your own. You hate it. How much you needed him.

To keep you warm. Of course. That was all.

“I hate you, Miguel O’hara.”

“Uh-huh, you keep telling me that.”

“Just making sure that you don’t forget.”

“I sure won’t.”

You hate it. You hate him and his sarcastic attitude, his confidence and his ego. If he wasn’t so goddamn rude then you might have been more willing to accept the idea that you were attracted to him.

“You ruined my life.”

“You did that to yourself, nena .”

Silence comes between the two of you as you ponder on his words. The realization hits you abruptly.

“I did, didn't I?”

You stop in your tracks, causing Miguel to do the same, his hand still around your wrist.

“Oh, please don’t start crying again–”

“I’m such a bad person,” you begin. “I-I-I ruined my life by trying to sell your car and I nearly got fired at my first ever job and I lied to my mom… I lied to my mom.” you emphasize.

Miguel shugs, “We all have, haven't we?”

“I lied to my mom about having a boyfriend!” You exclaimed. “And– and–and I’m a terrible daughter and I deserve death! and–and—

“ Hey , hey , don’t say that about yourself.” Miguel’s voice is stern, forcing you to look at him.

“But I lied and now she– she’s expecting me to bring someone over for thanksgiving and I don’t have anyone because I’m a liar and a criminal and I’m going to prison!” you sob harder, kneeling on the ground.

Miguel loses his grip on your wrist as you crouch down, crying.

He looks around, searching for anybody nearby to help you and this…state that you’re in. But of course, there’s no one around on campus at two in the morning and he curses under his breath.

Bending down slightly, he decides to try the softer approach.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed and you can sleep and forget that this never happened.”

You lift up your head, tears dripping from your chin. “No. I- I won’t forget, I’ll just remember it all over again and– and –”

“Hey, look at me.” Your eyes meet his, this time with makeup dissolving down your face. “I promise you’ll go to sleep and forget all about this okay? I promise.”

“Do you pinky promise?” You hold out your pinky in front of him.

“I pinky-promise.” He sighs.

You shake your head, pouting. “No, you have to link with me.” He’s reluctant but it’s done and sealed for good.

Slowly but surely he manages to get you to stand up again and starts to get you to walk. Through your drowsing speech he manages to figure out where you live based on which building you point to and he thanks the gods above that you don’t live far away from campus.

As you get nearer to your apartment, your tears slow down and you manage to recollect yourself, hiccuping every now and then as your sobs quieten down. You’re tired. Exhausted even. And you can’t wait for your head to hit the pillow.

“Are you alright?” Miguel asks as you now approach your apartment building.

You nod silently. He won’t try to get you to say anything anymore.

He helps you up the flight of stairs, making sure that you don’t topple over. You grip his bicep for support, trying not to think about his scent, or the way he looks at you or the close proximity between the two of you as he helps you up each step.

You’ll question why he did all this tomorrow. But for now, you really just want some fucking sleep. Once you make it to your door, he stands to the side, silently watching you unlock it. The door swings open and you find yourself hesitating to get inside.

“You think you’ll be okay?” He asks, his voice soft.

You nod silently again. This is the part where you thank him for taking you home but you really don’t feel like it. Not to him. You nod in response.

Awkwardly, you enter your apartment, not looking back before closing the door.

Your apartment is dark and cold. You don’t even want to turn on the lights, afraid that it’ll be too much of an eyesore.

Your clothes that you were trying on with Lyla before you left are strewn across the living area. The black dress that you almost chose to wear tonight now crumpled over the couch.

Entering your bedroom, you manage to blindly make your way to your bed. Not bothered to get out of your clothes or take off your make-up. The silence is eerily loud around you, second to, your heartbeat thumping loud in your ears.

“I hate you Miguel.” you say aloud, despite him being long gone.

And just like he promised, you fell asleep and managed to forget all about it.

reblogs are much appreciatated!!

#angel writes #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguelmig #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse fanart #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x reader smut #miguel x reader fluff #miguel x you #miguel x y/n

159 notes · View notes

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 25 days ago

Text

Movie Madness

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When Dean drops in unexpectedly, you decide on an activity to get both of your pulses racing. Reader is a med-student in college and works in a library. This is the fourth fic in my Before You Go Universe, but can be read as stand alone (probably?).

Tropes: Fluff, Established Relationships, Age Difference (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early to mid-30's)

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: Some swearing (once or twice), Mentions of sex (not explicit at all), Implied sex, Sexual Innuendo, SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE ALIEN, Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIPs folder forever and I really just wanted to write a fluff where Dean had never seen Alien and the reader remedies that. 😊

"Okay, next question: What is the first step in glycolysis, what does it create, and what does it use?" Tim asks, lounging back against one of the dusty bookshelves.

It was a Friday night, which normally meant you were gone to see Dean at the bunker, but this weekend he was off in Maine, dealing with a pack of werewolves and you had picked up a shift at the library.

Usually you would be disappointed that you couldn't see him, but due to the giant test looming over your head on Monday, you were happy to relax and study with your lab partner, Tim.

Tim stretched out his legs as far as they could go between the two bookshelves, while you read through the call numbers on the weathered spines of the faded books waiting to be replaced back on the dusty shelves in front of you. Tim, true to his word, had come to help you study. He had been happy to hear that you weren't going to see Dean, because he was also having a hard time with the material and he always said that quizzing someone else made him remember the information more anyway so he'd shown up three hours ago and hadn't left.

"Ohh I know this." You groan, resting your head against the bookshelf and bracing your arms on the metal ledge.

"I'm sure you do. Since you were asleep during the lecture on glycolysis."

"Hey. What happened to no judgement between us?" You turn your head to glare at your lab partner. "I didn't judge you when you dated that finance major who didn't know that the Earl of Sandwich was a person."

"An honest mistake-"

"Or when you couldn't find your glasses for two hours when you were wearing them-"

"It's very easy to do that when you have glasses. And you didn’t tell me that I was wearing them! You have no idea-"

"Or when you-"

"Okay! I give. Make it stop." He groans, kicking out at the back of your calf with his foot, but you dodge him. "Just answer the question."

"Fine."

You stand there for a minute trying to mentally compartmentalize your notes, flipping through them page by page, shuffling through the color-coded diagrams you drew for the glycolysis cycle two days ago, because yes you had fallen asleep during the lecture but you had forced yourself to go through the posted PowerPoints. "Okay. In the first step it's glucose being turned into D-glucose-6-Phosphate and it uses the-um-." You groan. "Oh it uses hexokinase."

"Finally, and yes that's right. What's the next step, what does it use, and what does it create?" Tim asks.

You turn back to the cart of dusty volumes, picking a faded red encyclopedia etched with gold script and note the call number.

You walk around the bookshelf to the other side where the call number should be, brushing your fingertips along the worn spines that line the walls and breathe in the scent of old books. It was enough to calm you down. Something about being surrounded by them always made you feel at home. Your mother was always reading worn paperbacks in her chair by the window with a cup of tea steaming in the early morning light back home, in the library that your father had made her in one of the spare bedrooms at your house. Whenever you found the time to read, it made you think of her, of course finding time to read was difficult.

You hadn't been back to see your parents since last Christmas, called them yes, and you knew deep down at some point you'd have to introduce Dean to them, but you kept putting that off, mostly because you didn't want to tell them what he did. Whenever your mom asked on the phone, you changed the subject, because it hurt you to lie to them. You were so close with both of them that it made everything complicated to keep Dean from them.

"Hello?" Tim says from the other side of the bookshelf. "Did you get lost or something?"

"Huh? Oh no I'm just thinking." You reach up on tip-toe to place the volume on the top shelf where it belongs. "Okay, I’m pretty sure the second step is D-glucose-6-Phosphate to Fructo-"

Someone grabs you from behind, wrapping their strong arms around your waist to pull you back into their chest, while planting their lips directly on the slope of your neck.

You open your mouth to scream, but then you hear Dean's rough voice in your ear.

"Did you miss me sweetheart?" He kisses you again, trailing his lips down your neck into the shadow of your jaw.

"Dean what the hell? You scared the crap out of me." You hiss turning around to hit him with the large volume still clutched in your hands. But despite your anger, you were happy to see him.

There was a little more wear around his eyes and the dark circles that rimmed them were prominent against his skin, the shadow of his beard was more apparent, but his eyes still shone bright green with his smile when he looked at you, making you feel like you were going to melt.

It wasn't a new feeling, and you hoped that it never went away.

"Sorry sweetheart." Dean laughs, dodging another swing of the encyclopedia. "You looked so cute putting the books away I had to."

"You're the worst."

He grabs the front of your sweatshirt and pulls you into him so that his lips are inches from yours, but does not kiss you. "Am I?" Dean breathes, close enough that you can feel the scratch of stubble against your skin and long for him to close the distance between the two of you.

"Yes." Your hands curl in the front of his black shirt beneath his leather jacket.

Dean kisses you earnestly, drawing the next breath from your lungs as you breathe him in, drunk on his smell and taste after only a few seconds. There really was nothing like kissing Dean, the subtle tilt of your head back, the gentle scrape of his beard against your cheeks, the soft sound he makes when he deepens the kiss, and the way he holds you close, almost as if he believes you will fade away in his arms.

"How about now?" He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

"You might be raising your rating." You smile, tightening your fingers in his hair. He'd been allowing it to grow a little longer and you loved it.

"Anything else I might be able to do to get it a bit higher, Sweetheart?" Dean smirks.

"Maybe-"

"Alright, I think that I've given you long enough to-" Tim begins to say rounding the corner of the bookshelves, but stops mid-sentence when he spots Dean. His eyes narrow a fraction.

"Hey there Tom!" Dean smiles as he pulls you closer to his chest, but raises his head up to give Tim a winning smile.

"It's Tim." Tim replies with a frown.

Tim had only seen Dean a handful of times and each time he did, you noticed how much he seemed to hate Dean. You couldn't think of a reason why. Dean hadn't done anything worth Tim's hatred. You had tried to act as a mediator in the past, tried to get Tim to get to know Dean before passing judgement, but nothing seemed to work.

In fact you had invited Tim to come with Dean and you to get a drink one night after class, but it had ended with you pretending that you forgot to return a phone call from your mother and you dragging a fuming Dean out of the bar while Tim glared at him.

That night had been awkward for everyone.

The entire time Tim had emphasized how important a college degree was and how important everything the two of you were doing at med school was, while glaring at Dean and almost implying that Dean was wasting your time. And when Dean told him he barely finished high school, Tim had laughed at him. Which made you angry, because you knew that Dean struggled with that, that he struggled thinking that you deserved better because he wasn’t educated the same way.

The next day you had received a phone call from Tim who apologized for what he'd said and stated that he was having a bad day and drank too much, but what he said to Dean still stung.

Dean didn't deserve to be treated like trash, didn't deserve to be put down because he didn't go to college, but you allowed yourself to forgive Tim. He was one of your only friends at school. However, you still didn't understand why he hated Dean so much.

An awkward silence passes between the three of you.

"Well I'm gonna go." Tim says looking from you to Dean. "I've got an early shift tomorrow. But let me know if you want to study again before the test."

"Okay, I'll text you later. Oh and I'll add you to the google doc for the notes I made." You smile at him, while leaning into Dean's embrace subconsciously. It had been two weeks since you'd seen him and you didn't realize how much you missed him until this moment.

"Sure." Tim turns to go back for his backpack on the other side.

"Bye Tom." Dean calls at his retreating back.

You sigh grabbing Dean's chin and bring his face back down to look at you. "You know his name."

"Do I?" Dean scrunches his face up as if trying to remember.

"Dean-"

"I'm just joking with him sweetheart. He's gotta learn to lighten up." Dean rolls his eyes, but then brushes his lips against yours, making your mind go completely blank. "I missed you."

"Is that why you're back early from your 'hunting trip'?" You smile against his lips.

"Maybe. That and it turned out not to be a pack of werewolves, but a very angry bear. Yogi didn't get the memo about eating hikers."

"Guess that makes you Ranger Smith. Please tell me that Sam or Cas had to dress up like Cindy Bear to appease Yogi and that you got pictures." You plead tugging at his hair hoping that Dean is about to make this the best day of your life.

"I love how much you know about Yogi Bear-"

"Oh that's nothing, you should hear me talk about Scooby Doo. My sister and I used to watch it all the time and let me be the first to say, Daphne deserved better."

It was an argument that your sister and you got into more than once, she was team Fred all the way, but you think that Daphne deserved better than a guy who was more focused on himself rather than anyone else. Not to mention he always let her get into trouble and he never seemed to care about her. Meanwhile your sister always said that he was trying to act aloof and sexy.

I miss her so much.

Dean freezes as soon as soon as you say it.

"Dean?" You look up at him worried. "Are you okay? Oh no, please don't tell me that you think that Daphne and Fred should-"

He picks you up and pins you to the bookshelf behind you, but before you can ask him again if he's okay, his lips are against yours.

He tastes like beer, coffee, and something sweet that you can't identify, both intoxicating and invigorating. The smell of his cologne and shampoo floods through your nose followed closely by the smell of leather and gun metal. Dean pulls your thighs up around him to secure you against his waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a wicked dance that drives all thoughts from your mind. You moan, tangling your fingers in his hair to force his mouth harder against yours, not wanting him to stop. It'd been so long since you'd seen him, since you'd had any time with him, since he'd touched you-

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Dean whispers against your lips. "Because every time I see you I don't think that I can love you more and then you say something like that."

"That Daphne deserved better?" You smile.

Dean kisses you as soon as you say it, holding you so tight against him it's almost painful, but you don't care, because it reminds you that he's here with you.

"Say it again." He mutters.

"Daphne deserved better."

"Fuck I love you."

"And I love that each time I see you I find out more about your weird kinks." You snort rubbing the back of his head gently in the way you know he likes.

"It's not a kink, it's the truth." Dean sighs while adjusting his grip under your thighs to make sure he doesn't drop you.

"Mhmm. Sure."

"So how much longer do you have to work?" He asks.

You glance at the watch on your wrist behind his head. "About an hour. Longer if you keep distracting me."

"I'm a wonderful distraction Sweetheart. Wouldn't mind distracting you for a little longer." Dean's mouth drifts to your jaw.

"Dean." You sigh. "I love you baby, but can I please finish putting these away?"

"In a minute." He continues to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking a mark just below your jaw. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." You sigh, knotting your hands in his hair and securing him against your neck.

"Have I ever told you that you're the sexiest librarian I've ever seen?" Dean murmurs.

"Given how many you've watched on your laptop I'll take that as a compliment." You snort. "But they're probably wearing less clothes than I am-"

"I can fix that sweetheart."

You roll your eyes at your boyfriend, but you’re not opposed to what he’s suggesting. "How long can you stay?"

"Few days."

"Hmm."

"What do you think we should do with all that time?" Dean looks up with a mischievous glint in his eye that makes a shudder go down your spine.

"I have a few ideas."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Something that will get our pulses racing." You kiss Dean, but before he can deepen it you pull back. "And maybe a few things that'll make me scream." You whisper, your breath upon his lips. "Would you like that Dean?"

"I think I would."

"Good."

"You know when you asked me if I wanted to hear you scream and wanted to get our pulses racing, this wasn't what I had in mind." Dean frowns, shrugging off his leather jacket and placing the extra large cheese pizza down on the end of your bed.

"Really? Huh. Can't imagine what else you were thinking about." You reply with an shrug, shuffling through your collection of DVD's to look for your favorite one.

"You act so innocent Sweetheart, but we both know how much trouble you seem to get us into all the time."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You finally see the familiar cover of your Alien Movie collection. "I can't believe you've never seen Alien before. It truly is one of the best movies in history." You set up the DVD player and grab the remote while Dean changes into his boxers.

You were looking forward to a relaxing night of watching movies and eating copious amounts of snacks and pizza to drown out the worry for the test on Monday. You figured that you had studied enough today with Tim at the library and now you were taking a well deserved break with Dean and your favorite comfort movie, Alien.

As soon as you found out Dean had never seen it, you'd wanted to make him watch it, but there never seemed to be time and tonight was perfect. You had grabbed a pizza on the way back, as well as every type of candy you could think of, beer (Dean's contribution), and popcorn.

"I was never really into Sci-Fi. That's more Sam." Dean sighs, nestling down on your small full sized bed, avoiding the pizza box.

"We both know that's a lie. You like Godzilla vs. Mothra!" You shout, changing out of your jeans and t-shirt, before grabbing the flannel that Dean took off a few seconds ago. It was still warm, but soft against your skin. “Not to mention I’ve heard you make at least seven Star Trek jokes.”

"Godzilla vs. Mothra is not really Sci-fi, that's giant monster destroying a city and it's awesome." Dean replies not taking his eyes off of you as you button up the flannel and ignoring your comment about Star Trek.

"Yes it is awesome and it most definitely is Sci-fi. And Alien is Sci-Fi for people who like Sci-fi and awesome monster movie for people who pretend to hate Sci-Fi like you. It has something for everyone, even cat lovers!" You get on the bed, sitting cross-legged next to him as you reach for the pizza and the bag that holds all your other snacks.

"Cat lovers?"

"There's a cat in this movie, Jonesy. He's adorable." You grab a slice of pizza and try not to moan out loud at the taste. "I love you." You whisper as you take another bite of the cheesy goodness.

"I love you too Sweetheart." Dean says with a heart-warming smile, not understanding that you are in fact talking to the pizza and not to him.

"Um. Well I love you too Dean-" You laugh awkwardly.

He frowns at you. "You were talking to the pizza weren't you?"

"No…"

Dean snorts and grabs a slice for himself. "Go on and start the movie. I doubt that I'll be able to stay awake for it."

"You're gonna love it!" You say leaning into his shoulder as you continue to eat.

"Uh-huh sure. How about we make this interesting?”

“How?” You lean your head back to look up at him.

“Well if I guess who dies one by one correctly, you take off a piece of clothing and if I guess wrong then I take off a piece of clothing.” He purrs tracing the edges of where his flannel hits your thighs.

“Dean you’re only wearing boxers. And I’m only wearing your shirt and underwear."

“Even better. Only have one wrong answer for me, and two correct ones for you.” He smirks wider.

“Are you trying to distract me from my favorite movie with the promise of sex?”

Dean leans in towards your face. “That depends. Is it working?”

You look at him, eyes tracing his handsome features, thinking about how much you missed him. “Nope.” You reply raising your slice of pizza between the two of you and taking a large bite.

Dean rolls his eyes and grabs a beer, snapping the metal top off with his bare hand.

How does he do something so normal and make it be so sexy?

“I promise that you’re gonna love it. And if you don’t, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You stoke your hand down his muscular chest.

Dean lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine.” He grumbles, before pulling you into his side as the opening music fills your bedroom.

You’d seen Alien maybe a million times. Monster movies were your sister and your favorite and the Alien movie series was the subject of many movie nights you spent with her before she got married. Binge watching all of them while eating probably cancer inducing junk food was a regular occurrence. Not to mention her bachelorette theme was badass female characters and she had proudly dressed up like Ripley.

You were excited to share this with him, and as much as he protested watching it, you knew that Dean was going to love it.

"I'm gonna go make popcorn." You say shuffling through the bag of snacks for the box of microwavable popcorn that you were sure was at the bottom.

"What?" Dean perks up.

"I'm going to go make popcorn." You pull yourself from his arms, stretching your arms up to the ceiling before making your way to your bedroom door.

"I'll-um- I'll go with you." Dean clears his throat, rising from the bed to follow.

"What?" You turn to look at him.

You'd been watching for over an hour, long enough for the Xenomorph to be on the loose in the spaceship and long enough for him to see what a badass Ripley was. She was and you wouldn’t apologize for dumping Dean if you ever had a chance with her.

But Dean seemed to be enjoying the movie. He’d yelled for a solid five minutes at the crew who stood by and watched the xenomorph explode out of their friend’s chest and he’d grabbed you by the waist and shook you when the captain got killed in the air vents while screaming “it’s your fault he’s dead” to the characters on the screen.

He was hooked.

"I'm going to help you make the popcorn." He repeats, but he won't quite look at you, his eyes are shifting through your room, tracing over the dark shapes.

"Okay." You were confused as to why he was coming with you, but you shrug and walk out into your living room.

The apartment is quiet and dark. Your roommate, Suze, hadn't been home when you got there and you didn't know when she was coming back or if she would. She'd been spending an inordinate amount of time at her new boyfriend Matt's house, a boyfriend that you actually didn't hate running into and didn't make you feel uncomfortable.

After everything that happened with her ex Cooper, you had wondered if things between Suze and you would go back to normal. There had been a few awkward hello's and goodbye's, but since she started dating Matt about a month ago things seemed to settle down. So much so that she had actually invited you to come with them to get a drink one night and you were allowed to bring Dean, and it wasn't awkward, maybe at first, but not now. It had only taken two years for your roommate to actually like you.

I'll leave her a note to let her know that there's some extra beer in the fridge if she wants it.

You begin to open the box of popcorn to reach the plastic packets inside.

"Did you hear that?" Dean says, turning towards your front door and shielding your body from it like it's going to attack you.

"Hear what?" The plastic popcorn packet rustles as you tear it open before you place it into the microwave.

"That weird noise."

"Dean, I think you're hearing things."

"I am not!" He walks towards the door carefully.

"Yes you are." You stop for a second, watching his tense stature, and suddenly understand why he wanted to come with you into the kitchen. "Wait a minute, are you scared?"

"Huh?" Dean peeks over his shoulder eyes wide.

"You are! You're scared!" You snort. "I can’t believe this."

"I'm not scared." Dean lies, standing up straighter.

"Wow. Big bad Dean Winchester is scared of aliens."

"I am not!" He plants his hands on his hips, but its not enough to convince you.

"How are you scared of that? You see stuff worse than Xenomorphs everyday!" You laugh again, turning back to the microwave to pour the now made popcorn into a stainless steel bowl.

"I don't see aliens. And I sure as hell don't see something like that!"

"Uh-huh. Sure." You shake your head at him, practically skipping back into your room. "And I thought this day couldn't get any better."

Dean collapses on the bed next to you in a huff. "How are you not afraid of that thing?"

"I’m honestly more disappointed that you haven’t proved their existence.”

“You want something like that to exist?”

“I mean it’s kinda cool-“

"Cool? You think that thing is cool?” Dean's mouth drops open in surprise.

“Yeah?” You shrug and pop a piece of the popcorn in your mouth.

“It’s got acid for blood!”

“So what you’re saying is, if one of those was on the loose you wouldn’t protect me?” You force your smile into an attractive pout, fluttering your eyelashes at Dean.

He looks you right in the eye, without blinking and states, “Babe you’re on your own.”

“Wow. It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, I’m not scared.” Dean huffs as you fasten you arms around his chest and lay your head over his heart.

As the movie continues you keep sneaking glances at Dean, who has begun to subconsciously press you tighter and tighter against his chest with the arm he has wrapped around your back. He hasn't taken his eyes off the screen, the most he'd done is stress eat his way through all of your snacks.

But you loved it. You cuddled further into his chest, smiling against his skin as you did. You loved having these moments with him, hadn't had one with him in almost two weeks. The most the two of you had done was talk on the phone until you fell asleep, but you missed this. You missed your sexy, gentle, kind, passionate, caring, and gorgeous boyfriend.

“Come on. The CAT IS SMARTER THAN ALL OF THEM!” He shouts wincing as another crew member is killed by the creature.

“Yes it is.” You snort.

"We should get a cat."

"What? Are you even a cat person?" You sit up and look at Dean, who is still watching the movie with wide eyes.

"I could be! It could tell that fucking thing was there! It was warning them and they didn’t listen and now they’re dead! See if we had a cat I’d listen to him." He argues.

"What are you the cat whisperer?"

"If it started acting weird then we’d know one of those things was around!" Dean shouts squeezing you tighter against his bare chest, his eyes still glued to the t.v.

Is it wrong that I like seeing him like this?

You'd never seen him afraid before, but it was giving you a sickening amount of joy for him to be clutching on to you so tightly. That was probably because you missed him so much and it was nice to be in his arms again, even if he was cutting off circulation to the top half of your body.

"Cats always act weird. They're cats. It’s kinda the whole deal."

"Do you like cats?"

"I could. I like dogs. I always wanted a pet when I was younger, but my sister is allergic." You frown at the tv.

When you were a kid you hadn't seen a problem and brought home a random dog while telling your sister loudly to "hold her breath."

Your parents hadn't thought it was as funny as you had.

"How is she doing?" Dean asks turning to look at you as the end credits roll.

He hadn't met any of your family yet and you were planning on asking Dean to come home with you for thanksgiving in a few weeks, but you weren't sure it was a good idea. You loved him and he loved you, but you were afraid that he would freak out about meeting your family. You knew that he wasn't used to something like that, meeting a significant other's family, and you didn't want to push him to do something uncomfortable.

Then again, the premise of free food will probably entice him. Not to mention my mom is the best cook in the world.

"Good. The baby is due in November and she's hoping that it'll be out by Thanksgiving because she doesn’t want to miss the one holiday that doesn't fat shame you for taking another plate. I just called her the other day, she can’t wait for it to be over."

You also hadn't seen your sister in a little bit, but it was difficult to balance that, especially because she lived so far away and you were trying to balance work, school, and Dean. But you did get a phone call out to her at least once every week. Lately it had been more because she liked to call to complain about being pregnant and because her husband was away on business, she wasn't able to do it to him.

"How’s her husband?"

"He’s good. Just got promoted. I still have no idea what he does. She says she doesn’t either. Every time I asks my brain turns off. Then again she said she’d be okay if he was out there shaking it for dollar bills, as long as he brings money home."

"I think I love your sister."

"She is pretty great. And honestly, it seems like a nice way to pick up some extra cash-"

"No." Dean smiles slips into a frown.

"No what?" You ask him confused.

"You’re not allowed to become a stripper."

"I didn’t say I wanted to. Just that it might be a viable option to getting some cash on the side."

"No.” Dean’s eyes flick from where Ripley is fighting the alien in the escape pod to focus on you.

“You know it’s a free country and if I wanted to be a stripper I could."

"Nope."

"What?"

"Sorry doll. The only one that gets to see this sexy body is me."

“I think you’re being selfish.”

“Yes unashamedly. I want you all to myself.” Deans smile shifts into a smirk, eyes glinting mischievously. “Though if you wanted to give me a show I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.”

"So what did you think about the movie?"

"I liked it, though I think it's kind of a red flag that this is your comfort movie."

"Says the guy who's entire trunk of his car is a red flag."

"I'm serious. How is this your comfort movie?" Dean gestures at the end credits that continue to scroll to the iconic soundtrack.

"I don't know. I like it. It makes me feel better about my problems watching them all scramble around."

"You're so weird." Dean sighs shaking his head.

"I know. It's great isn't it?" You flash a wide grin and elbow him in the side.

"Keeps me on my toes."

You find the box that contains the entire collection underneath the wrappers of all the snacks and wave it in front of you to taunt him. “So I’ve got the next three on DVD. Unless you’re too scared Winchester.”

“Bring it on!”

"Or," You smile up at him. "We could take a break because you were very brave. And maybe you deserve a reward." You press a kiss along the edge of his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble against the soft pillow of your lips. Dean had allowed it to grow out a little more than usual and you loved that.

"And what would we do?" Dean asks you innocently, but his green eyes gleam with mischief, tracing down to where his shirt rests over your thighs.

"Something that would get our pulses racing-"

Dean tackles you back against your bed, his lips inches apart from yours. “I’d like that sweetheart.”

“Thought so.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for the Before You Go Series please let me know! 😊

Taglist:

@sunnyhummingbee @roseblue373 @brightlilith @snowayumi @ladysparkles78

@kittydeany77 @daisy-the-quake @mrsjenniferwinchester

#jensen ackles #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #supernatural fluff #supernatural fandom #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction

79 notes · View notes

padfootagain · 2 months ago

Text

Love in Verses (XXIV)

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cute moments for you all :)

I’m also making a reference to a documentary in this chapter, I was thinking about Brainwashed directed by Nina Menkes, you can check it out if you’d like!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3096

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Tea

Five times a day, I make tea. I do this because I like the warmth in my hands, like the feeling of self-directed kindness. I’m not used to it— warmth and kindness, both—so I create my own when I can. It’s easy. You just pour water into a kettle and turn the knob and listen for the scream. I do this five times a day. Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing. I must remind myself I am here, and do so by noticing myself: my feet are cold inside my socks, they touch the ground, my stomach churns, my heart stutters, in my hands I hold a warmth I make. I come from a people who pray five times a day and make tea. I admire the way they do both. How they drop to the ground wherever they are. Drop pine nuts and mint sprigs in a glass. I think to care for the self is a kind of prayer. It is a gesture of devotion toward what is not always beloved or believed. I do not always believe in myself, or love myself, I am sure there are times I am bad or gone or lying. In another’s mouth, tea often means gossip, but sometimes means truth. Despite the trope, in my experience my people do not lie for pleasure, or when they should, even when it might be a gesture of kindness. But they are kind. If you were to visit, a woman would bring you a tray of tea. At any time of day. My people love tea so much it was once considered a sickness. Their colonizers tried, as with any joy, to snuff it out. They feared a love so strong one might sell or kill their other loves for leaves and sugar. Teaism sounds like a kind of faith I’d buy into, a god I wouldn’t fear. I think now I truly believe I wouldn’t kill anyone for love, not even myself—most days I can barely get out of bed. So I make tea. I stand at the window while I wait. My feet are cold and the radio plays its little sounds. I do the small thing I know how to do to care for myself. I am trying to notice joy, which means survive. I do this all day, and then the next.

Leila Chatti

Your conversation with Andrew was exhilarating.

Of course, you were aware that he was smart, you knew him well enough by now to be very aware of that. And of course, as he studied literature for a living, you knew that he was extremely knowledgeable in that field. Still, it was just so… exciting, to talk with him. About anything, really.

You were in his home to watch the documentary you had spotted about the male gaze in cinema, the film was just over. There were remnants of tea and biscuits on his coffee table, and Andrew’s dog was curled at his feet, on the carpet. Outside, the weather was moody but dry, there was a lot of wind though, and it made a strange sound as the air hit the windows. And now, even if the documentary was over, you kept on discussing the subject, bouncing ideas and examples. And he was listening to you, paying attention to what you were saying, he was even interested in what you had to say. He wasn’t contradicting you, more like asking deeper questions, debating in a productive way. You had already been commenting during the film, but it had been half an hour now since the documentary had ended, and he still seemed perfectly content with talking about it more with you.

You couldn’t help yourself as you drew a parallel with Frank, how you knew he was faking interest when you talked about your work. You thought he was making an effort back then, but perhaps you were being too kind to him. As you listened to Andrew agreeing with you, offering more arguments, his hands moving as he spoke with an obvious interest that was almost passion… you couldn’t help but question yourself. If Andrew was so enthralled by something you were passionate about, perhaps Frank should have been too… or… perhaps he could have at least properly listened to you.

You were interrupted by Elwood though. Andrew was cut mid-sentence as his dog woke up from his nap, and immediately rose and put his front paws on Andrew’s knees, looking at him with an impatient look in his eyes while waiting to get attention. Andrew couldn’t refrain a chuckle as he scratched the dogs head, making the animal happily wiggle his tail.

“Your dog is so cute,” you chuckled fondly at the adorable sight.

“Yeah, he’s a very good boy,” Andre nodded.

“Oh, God! I almost forgot, wait! I brought you something!”

Andrew frowned hard, staring at you while you stood up from the couch and hurried towards your bag.

“Y/N, there was no need… you shouldn’t have brought anything…”

“It’s not for you. It’s for him.”

Andrew merely frowned again, and you couldn’t help but find his puzzled look adorable.

“For… Elwood, you mean?”

You nodded proudly, taking a toy out of your purse.

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I told you not to buy him anything…”

“I wanted to!”

It was just a little something, much like a ball, but it was shaped like a frog. You had seen it in the supermarket the day prior while buying groceries, and thought of Andrew immediately. So, you bought it, thinking his dog could like it.

You handed it to Andrew, who chuckled happily at the sight. His fingers brushed yours as he took the toy, his fingertips calloused because of years spent playing the guitar. You shuddered, your heart skipping a beat. You watched how ridiculously small the toy looked in his large hand…

You shook yourself out of these thoughts, cleared your throat.

“I just saw it yesterday in the store, and just… had to buy it! It was so cute!”

“Christ… thank you so much, Y/N. This is adorable.”

He pressed on the toy, a little squeaky noise coming out of it that immediately caught Elwood’s attention.

“You didn’t have to, though,” Andrew admonished, but you brushed off his remark.

“I was happy to buy it for him.”

Andrew let the toy drop to the floor and Elwood immediately hurried after it as it rolled away, happily chewing on it too to make it squeak. Andrew smiled fondly at the sight.

“Thanks Y/N.”

There was something else in his eyes too, something fond and almost tender as he looked up at you. You tried not to think about it too much, rekindled the conversation so your brain would focus on something else than the green in his eyes…

“I’ve never asked you… when did you get Elwood?”

“Oh, way back! I was in college. I found him on the road with my parents when he was just a puppy. He didn’t have a tag or anything, it was pretty obvious he had been abandoned. We tried to find out if anyone was claiming him, but no one was, so we kept him. He moved back with me when I got my job at Trinity, instead of staying with my parents.”

“That’s kind of you to have kept him.”

“We always had a dog around at home. I really love dogs a lot. It wasn’t an effort, really. I was hoping no one would claim him, to be honest.”

“Why ‘Elwood’ though?”

Andrew laughed, watched as you crouched by his dog to pet his head. Elwood dismissed his new toy in favour of getting more scratches, making you giggle happily.

“My father thought that he had a spot on his neck that looked like a tie. So, it made him think of the Blues Brothers. So, Elwood it was.”

“I have to admit, I’ve never watched that film.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“Wow… and I thought you were a respectable person.”

You laughed at that, bright and happy, and you noticed that Andrew smiled because of it.

“We all have our flaws, I guess. I would love to watch it with you though, if you want to.”

His smile turned into an excited grin.

“Yeah, totally. Like… that would be grand!”

You checked the time, it was late already. Almost 7pm, you ought to go home and have dinner. You had spent most of your afternoon at Andrew’s already.

He saw your gesture, but you didn’t say anything. Truth was, you didn’t want to go home. You were happy with Andrew. You had not thought of Frank this afternoon, except when you noticed that he should have done better. It was a drastic change, to have someone who was nice, funny, and actually interested in things you adored. The fact that he looked gorgeous in a blue and white striped t-shirt and a black cardigan, with his hair up in a casual bun, didn’t help you will yourself out of his flat. But you reckoned that you had bothered him enough for one day, you ought to go home…

“Y/N?”

You looked up again, silently questioning him while you kept on giving his dog some well-deserved love.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“I mean… like… unless you have something planned, of course. It’s just… it’s late, and… I was going to order some take-out anyway, so… if you want, we could order something. But if you’d prefer to go home, like… that’s totally fine.”

You noticed how he nervously rubbed at his palm, his shy side coming back to the surface.

You broke into a grin.

“I’d love to stay, Andy. But only if we split the bill!”

He grinned, stopped rubbing at his hand, and you noticed that he was blushing a little.

“Grand!”

You were about to ask about what he wanted to eat when his phone buzzed, and he took a look at who was calling.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to take this. I won’t be long though.”

You nodded with a smile, while Andrew was picking up his phone and hurrying out of the room. He closed the door of his second bedroom behind him, and you heard his voice only as muffled sounds you couldn’t decipher.

You waited for him to come back, playing with Elwood and his new toy. He seemed to really like you, and you couldn’t refrain a sense of pride at the thought. He kept on coming back for scratches and attention, even after getting side-tracked because of the toy.

A few minutes later, Andrew was opening the door again, but he hadn’t ended his call. He walked to his kitchen to look at the tiny calendar hanging next to the fridge.

“Yeah… okay. No, I can do that in four weeks. So, a reading, then? Okay. No, no, I don’t mind if there are questions at all, on the contrary. What about the journal then? Four poems! Wow… I thought they just wanted to publish one! How many? Okay. No, no, it’s okay, I’ve got some that are ready to be published, maybe I’ll add a couple new ones… we’ll see. Yeah, I know… okay. Alright. Thanks so much, Caroline. Yeah, have a nice one too. Bye.”

He wrote something on his calendar, then came back to the living room to join you.

“Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop… but… you talked about poetry?” you asked, and Andrew visibly blushed.

He nervously ran his fingers through his beard.

“Yeah… erm…”

“Sorry, that’s none of my business…”

“No, no… that’s… I just…”

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but he answered anyway.

“I write poetry.”

Your eyes grew a little round, but you didn’t try to hide your excitement. And Andrew seemed surprised by it.

“That’s amazing! Have you ever been published?”

“Erm… yeah, like… I have a couple of collections published. I publish regularly in journals too.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“It’s nothing particularly good or anything…”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure you’re downplaying your art a lot. That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I… I’m quite proud of that, to be honest.”

“Why do you look all shy, then?” you asked, wondering if you were a little too direct as Andrew stared at you in surprise.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. But then he shrugged.

“I don’t know… you’re right, it’s silly. It was my agent… on the phone, I mean. I’m booked for a reading of some of my poems next month.”

“That sounds grand!”

“Yeah… I get a little nervous with those, but I really like doing that too.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I didn’t tell you before.”

“I’m supposed to be an expert in literature,” you replied, making him chuckle.

“Not in contemporary Irish poetry though. That’s my jam, back off! Soon, you’ll take my job as well as my dog’s love.”

You laughed at that.

“Nah, I’m just bribing him so he will tolerate me in his home,” you argued, right when Elwood was reaching to lick your cheek.

“Yeah, of course… he clearly hates you,” Andrew replied, “look at him, he’s this close from biting your head off.”

You giggled, tickled by Elwood’s tongue, and you almost fell over as Elwood rested his paws on your chest.

You laughed loudly, and Andrew did the same.

“Alright, Elwood, that’s enough. Come here, boy. Come here,” he ordered, and Elwood obeyed in an instant, earning some scratches and praises as he reached Andrew.

You walked back to the couch to join Andrew.

“Andy?” you asked, trying to think of the right words to ask your next question.

“Hmm?”

“Would you find it weird if I read your poetry? Or can I?”

He froze, his hand stopping all movement on Elwood’s head, who looked up at his owner with a questioning look.

“Like… I don’t know… poetry can be really personal, so… If you don’t want me to read it, I’d understand. But, I’d really like to read it.”

He looked at you then, blinking, like he was trying to process your words. He looked adorable like this, with a confused look on his face that made his lips part and his eyebrows knit together.

“You… you want to read it?”

“Yeah! Of course!”

He blinked again.

“Oh… okay.”

“Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No, I… I don’t mind. You can read it if you want.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

He clenched his jaw, but kept on looking at you.

“I don’t know… it’s just… Sam never really cared about that. Like she… she didn’t get it, you know? She didn’t really like what I wrote. It’s… it’s quite political, most of the time. Or about love. Or… I don’t know… she didn’t like it. She wasn’t interested in it.”

“I’m not Samantha, though.”

He stared at you then, intense and a little stunned. His voice was so soft when he spoke.

“No… no, you’re definitely not Samantha.”

If the phrasing was rather emotionless, his tone made it sound like it was a compliment. As if he was acknowledging the fact, your differences, and that he was happy to find them. You gave him a smile, a little lost, not knowing how to respond.

You saw that he was struggling to swallow, that he looked impossibly nervous again.

“You… you could come to the reading, if you want,” he offered in a breath. “Like… if you’re not busy and you want to, of course.”

But you grinned.

“That would be amazing! Yes! Of course, I’d like to come!”

He grinned back at you, looking excited too now.

“Grand!”

“Should I have read your poetry first, or is it better if I discover it then?”

“Ermmm… I don’t know. I like listening to poetry readings a lot, it’s not the same. There’s something very… melodic, about poetry, that you don’t really have when it’s only on paper. So… you can definitely discover it at the reading. You’ll have to sit through it even if you don’t like it though.”

You took his last remark as a joke and laughed, but his surprise showed you that he was being serious.

“Andy, I’m sure I’m going to love it! Why wouldn’t I? God, I can’t wait now! Can you send me the details then?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll send you everything.”

“Thank you!”

He chuckled.

“Thank you, for being interested in that.”

“We’re friends! Of course, I’m interested!”

He grinned again, slowly nodding.

“Well… what do you want to eat?” he changed the subject.

“Pizza?”

“Oh! Yes!”

Andrew got you some pizza, and you spent a long time chatting, drinking beer while you ate. Soon, it was already 11 pm, but you didn’t want to go home. Instead, you had moved back from the kitchen to the couch, and you admired him like this, relaxed and babbling away about Breath of the Wild and the last movie he had watched.

He took off his cardigan at one point, and before he could readjust his t-shirt, you noticed dark traces on his upper-arm.

“What’s that?” you asked, making Andrew laugh.

“My tattoo.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah…” he chuckled, rubbing at his neck. “Nothing special though.”

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“Come on! Let me see!”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s only two words, that a friend of mine tattooed on me when we were in College.”

“You know a tattoo artist?”

“No, he did it like… prison style, you know,” Andrew joked. “Just… with a pen and a needle and just…”

He mimicked the gesture of repeatedly stinging somebody with a needle. You blinked at him.

“Wow… you will never cease to surprise me, Andy.”

He laughed at that.

“You’re actually a delinquent,” you joked, making him laugh even harder.

“Of the worst kind, I’m afraid.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitated for a second, and then he pushed his short sleeve up, until you could read the words painted there on his arm.

Noli Timere

“It means ‘never be afraid’,” he explained, blushing.

“Why that phrase?”

He blushed some more.

“It was Heaney’s last words to his wife.”

He seemed to expect you to mock him, but you didn’t.

“I should have known, a fan till the end,” you smiled, and he nodded. “It’s a nice reminder to have. Very meaningful.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so too.”

You stared at him to speak again, diving into his hazel eyes. At such an hour, Andrew was growing tired, and so his eyes wore a vivid shade of green, like leaves in the summer sun.

“Besides, tattoos are sexy.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look away despite his obvious blush. He slightly tilted his head to the side, and his tone was flirtatious when he answered.

“Are they now?”

You merely nodded and hummed along.

What the fuck were you doing? Were you flirting with Andrew? Your colleague?! Your friend?!

“Even if they’re made with a pen and needle by a drunk friend?”

“Especially if they’re made like that, yeah. That sounds very bad boy of you.”

He winced at that, making you laugh.

“Christ, I hope not…”

“The reference to a poet and the incredibly romantic meaning behind it kind of balances it out but…”

“I’m a sap, I know.”

“Unsalvageable, I’m afraid…”

“Who’s saying I want to be saved from that?”

You exchanged a smile, and as you sat there, on Andrew’s sofa, staring at him and how gorgeous he was, and how tender his gaze was and… you just…

You would have let him kiss you if he had tried to. You would have let him…

“It’s quite late, I should go home,” you let out in a breath, unable to hide your reluctance to actually do what you said.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

You didn’t get up though. Instead, you leant forward to kiss his cheek, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and you could have sworn that under your palm his heart was pounding.

“Good night, Andy,” you whispered against his ear, and you heard how his breath caught in his throat.

You were pulling away when he stopped you, hand reaching to cradle the back of your head. He turned his face to kiss your cheek as well, but his kiss landed on the corner of your lips, almost on your mouth.

“Good night, Y/N. Tell me when you’re home, okay? It’s late.”

“Okay.”

You stared at each other for a moment longer, his fingers still in your hair, your hand still on his chest.

You would have let him…

You pulled away, got up and finally walked out of his flat.

The skin he had touched with his lips was burning still when you got home.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier series #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #fanfiction #fanfic #series #writing

134 notes · View notes