#cinnamon buns basically

[ravlynn]

SoSS:

What dessert are you tempted by most often?

" Inquiring minds must know, aye? " A soft coo followed with honeyed mirth. A smile gave away beneath her lips, bearing a hint of playfulness in her. " I could always go for a slice of cake. That would be too easy, wouldn't it? " Pale brows wiggled in that regard as she began to take the question in more seriously. He sucked in her bottom lip, biding onto it as her thoughts began to dwell back to a time before.

" There was a time where I once tasted of the most delicious mana buns I that had ever graced my tongue. They were the only thing to ever come close to mothers. Something about the consistency of the drizzle and the correct amount of cinnamon. Of course, I could never duplicate such a recipe as I am not as infinite in magical potential as either my mother or the mage in question... " Raven's mind seemed to trail off in thought, her lips curling. Her cheeks now taking in a contrast of rose. " ... Damn it. Now I am hungry. I just got finished with my exercise session too. I'm all sticky... like mana buns! "

[[ Quite the sticky situation @nahisummerhold and thank you for her first ask! mentions: @arrydhalia]]

[fisheito]

hey so if yakumo puts up an essence shield does it looks like

this.?

this?

or this??

[puushkinns]

Genderbent ryoma <3

[bobfloydsbabe]

I need the characters in the books I’m reading to be a little less relatable. First it was Teddy in Lost and Lassoed and now it’s Hazel in The Cinnamon Bun Book Store. I like seeing myself reflected in characters, but not like this. It makes me weepy and anxious.

[realjem-art]

The world's silliest lab baby

[togenabi]

things I won't tell you

vinsmoke sanji (opla) x princess!reader

♡—the new royal chef doesn't seem to recognize you without your crown. who's going to tell him? . . . certainly not you.

word count♡— 7.3k (cries)

genre♡— fluff, royal chef x princess au

content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader is a princess, reader wears dresses, reader has siblings (oc's), sanji made me google fancy food, mentions of zeff, sanji gets jealous if you squint, no use of y/n, proofread (but only a little)

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is detached from any canon, its basically just a big chunk of sanji fluff. please enjoy!

You've never really dreamed for yourself. You had always just let life fall into place around you.

The kingdom is prospering, entering a new age of commerce. Artists, craftsmen, and inventors sail seas just to be part of it.

Your sister Chrysanth is a wise queen, as you always knew she would be. She’s fair and just, always knowing what’s best for her people.

On the other hand, your brother August is Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s an excellent swordsman, who has yet to be beaten ever since he took command.

As for you, the youngest of the three, you have no idea what you’re doing.

The most likely outcome would be for you to be married off to settle some political arrangement. Unpleasant as it sounds, you would have agreed to it for the sake of the kingdom.

But the moment you said so, Chrysanth gave you a look unbecoming of a queen and immediately shut it down.

“Look,” She gestured to the view outside. “Does that seem like a kingdom who needs help to you? I work my butt off precisely so that we won’t have to depend on anyone else.”

“Besides,” She adds, “if anyone wants your hand, they should fight to the death for it.”

And so, for now, you work for your sister. Helping manage general affairs and the kingdom’s business agreements—even though she could easily hire someone else.

“I love that you insist on working,” Your brother told you once. “You could have been a socialite, but you’re here with us, serving the people.”

Of course you are. Because even though you didn’t necessarily plan it, you are proud and committed to your work. You’re happy with your own, mundane accomplishments.

Or at least that’s what you try to remember when you glance at the tall pile of documents on your desk. You’ll relish the satisfaction that will come when it’s gone.

The candle beside you burns low, flame becoming dimmer and dimmer as the hour grows late. You should probably replace that. Pulling open your drawer, your eyes scan its contents for a candle.

You’re fresh out of the tall ones that fit in the candleholder, but you have one sculpted like a cinnamon bun—a gift from August a few birthdays ago. It’s not exactly the best for illuminating your work, but something makes you strike a match and light it still.

It smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls, you can’t help but inhale the decadent scent deeply.

The aroma triggers an embarrassing grumble from your stomach. You feel your ears burn despite the fact that no one else is around to have heard it. Perhaps a midnight snack is in order.

Unexpectedly, light seeps through the gap beneath the large wooden double doors to the kitchen. In all your years, you’ve never encountered anyone in the kitchen at two in the morning.

Normally, you wouldn’t want to disturb them. Knowing the chefs, they would likely fuss over you and put whatever they were doing on hold.

But you fear that your stomach will disagree with that, so you decide to knock and enter the kitchen anyway.

There’s only one chef inside—a tall, blond man with his back to you. You don’t think you recognize him. He must be one of the new hires.

When he hears your footsteps on the stone tiles, he turns around.

His expression, at first, is curious. But after a beat, his mouth curves into a charming grin that catches you completely off guard.

“Hello there, miss.” He nods in greeting, eyes alight with a look that no one usually dares when it comes to you.

“I’d be happy to fix up something for you if there’s anything you’re… craving.”

When you expected the chef to fuss over you, this isn’t what you meant.

Your first instinct is to look at his surroundings for alcohol. Perhaps he’s intoxicated and not in his right mind?

But the (sober) chef seems to have mistaken your silence for bashfulness, because he presses you further, “Trust me. I may be new around here, but I know my stuff.”

Unsure how to respond to his blatant (or insolent, your sister would say) behavior, you try to gently decline his offer.

“It’s alright,” You say, still uncertain about him. “I was only going to make a sandwich and be on my way.”

“Nonsense!” He insists. “If you’re hungry at this hour, it means you’ve been busy working too hard.”

He approaches the pantry, retrieving one too many things for a mere sandwich. Your concern grows when he grabs garlic, several leafy vegetables, and a lemon.

“You, my dear,” He points at you with, is that a cucumber? “—deserve a proper treat.”

You sigh, it looks like he doesn’t intend to back down. Maybe you should just let him do what he wants and see if he can back up all the talk. Pulling one of the chairs from beneath the kitchen island, you take a seat as you observe the flirtatious chef.

At least he seems to be enjoying himself. His hands work with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience; and he smiles proudly when he sees you watching.

“I meant what I said, I’m a damn good cook.” He’s begun chopping the vegetables. “My name’s Sanji, by the way.”

The question now is whether or not you properly introduce yourself. It's difficult to deny that you enjoy his attention. The casual and relaxed manner he addresses you with is… a nice kind of different. When else are you going to experience that if you let this go?

Alright. For tonight, you're not a princess. You're someone who stumbled upon a chef—a handsome one, it dawns on you. This is a chance encounter in the palace kitchens. And, you glance over at the dressing and ingredients he prepared, why should you turn down good food?

You decide to only give him your name. It feels strange introducing yourself without your title, but you don't tell him that.

“It makes sense that your name is as captivating as you are.” Sanji's voice is smooth, easygoing as he moves around the kitchen.

Nothing about his demeanor changes. Either he really doesn't know anything about this country's royalty, or he's skillfully controlled his reaction and is hiding that he knows.

There's also a third possibility: that you look so haggard and tired that you simply do not appear royal anymore.

Subconsciously, you look at your typical office clothes… Maybe you should go on that fitting the royal stylist has been pestering you about.

On the topic of style, however, your companion has unusual attire for a chef. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt with a necktie. His black slacks match the suit jacket draped over one of the chairs.

Your attention is diverted when Sanji begins rolling up his sleeves. He juices the lemon he had sliced in half, arms flexing as he twists the fruit.

Clearing your throat, you ask him a question to distract yourself. “What are you making?”

He smiles as if he’s glad you asked. “A dish that suits a beauty like you, of course.”

Several minutes later, he presents you with a sandwich. The slices of bread are whole wheat; the layers of ingredients between them are all in varying shades of green.

“A green goddess sandwich, made with care for the goddess in front of me.” Sanji pushes the plate towards you. 

It's easy to stay composed despite the flattery because your hunger makes you focus on the food. “It really does look excellent.” You compliment earnestly.

He gestures to the plate before placing his hands in his pockets. “Tastes excellent too, try it.” Shaking your head at how confident he’s being, you pick up the sandwich.

It might just be the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life. The flavors are fresh, and you catch the hints of lemon blending with the dressing. The bread is soft, contrasting with the crunch of the cucumbers and sprouts.

You're completely surprised, and it must be obvious based on how Sanji reacts. He lets out an adorable, pleased laugh that makes you want to hear it again.

“I knew you’d like it, ma chèrie.” Sanji reaches a hand towards your face. Your heart just about stops when he brushes his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth. His eyes look so intense, like you'll drown in them if you stare too much. 

It feels as if your face could burst into flames at any second, so you turn away to hide your flush.

As Sanji grabs you a glass of water, you ask him if he’s eaten. “I did, but it’s nice that you’re worried about me.” He answers. You almost choke on your drink.

Once you've finished your meal, you stand then grab your empty plate and glass. But Sanji mirrors you, blocking the way to the sink. Why must a chef have such broad shoulders?

He shakes his head, trying to get the dishes from you. “Can’t let you do that, love.”

“Why not?” You frown, pulling your arms back so he doesn’t reach them.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be working any more—”

“But you’re allowed to?” You look up at him defiantly.

Sanji stares at you. You stare back. There's a few seconds of silence before you sprint the other way, running around the kitchen island to get to a different sink.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sanji yells after you.

You’re almost there, but Sanji catches up to you easily. Before you know it, he’s blocking the way again and you curse, remembering his long legs.

“Sanji, let me do the dishes.” You plead, but he’s as stubborn as it gets.

“The knives I used need to be washed anyway, and I’m not about to let your pretty hands do that.” Sanji winks, and you give up. He pries the dishes from your hands.

Seeing your shoulders slump disappointedly, he offers you a compromise. “If you really want, you could throw the rubbish in the bin and wipe down the counters.” Okay, you can do that.

“Are you sure this is the only way I can repay you?” You ask, grabbing a washcloth to begin cleaning up.

“That’s plenty of help, my dear.” Sanji answers.

But after a moment, he seems to have gotten an idea. Your brows raise in curiosity as you question him, “What?”

“...I was just wondering,” He begins, looking at you with that flirtatious glint in his eye. “Since we had such a wonderful time tonight, would you be willing to join me again?”

“That depends,” You press your lips together to suppress the smile blooming on your lips. “Will you cook for me again?”

Sanji laughs, throwing his head back. “Darling, that’s a given.”

He gazes at you while he dries his hands. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, like he already knows your answer. He probably does. He’s probably right.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Even though you got back to your chambers at an ungodly hour in the morning, you woke up feeling the most refreshed you’ve ever been. There’s a spring in your step as you get ready for the day, and you pick clothes that are slightly more dressy than your usual attire. Sanji shouldn’t be able to notice that you dressed up for him, right?

But your sister does. 

Seated at the head of the table, Chrysanth stops eating to analyze your clothes the instant you show up to the dining hall for breakfast.

You could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Avoiding her gaze, you bow to greet her before taking your seat, “Good morning.”

The queen only smiles at you knowingly, eyes still flickering over you with enraptured excitement. Very much unlike a queen, however, she kicks your shin underneath the table.

“Ow!” You yelp.

“So���” She lets the syllable drag on. “Who’s the guy?”

You focus on piling food onto your plate, choosing to ignore her. “What guy?”

“Your guy.” She says, giddy. “Is he your guy yet?”

“Hm?” Is your only response. Breakfast looks lovely. Should you ask for coffee or tea today?

Chrysanth kicks you again.

“Hey!” You rub the skin to dull the pain. “Stop that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” She persists, waving a hand to gesture at your clothes. “You only wear that skirt when you want to impress someone.”

Mentally cursing her for knowing you too well, you continue to act nonchalant.

“Really, it’s nothing.” You try to clarify. “I just thought that it would be a nice change.”

She doesn't believe it. Not one bit of it. Thankfully though, she drops the topic. Your shoulders relax as the discussion switches to work-related ones. She’s telling you about her plans to approve a restaurant in the museum when your brother joins you for breakfast.

Once he’s seated, August takes one look at you before tilting his head. “Who’s the guy?”

Chrysanth looks far too smug and triumphant than you’d like. You bury your face in your hands. Would Sanji also tease you if he knew?

The rest of the day is uneventful, the only change to your typical work day being that you avoid your siblings like the plague. You have lunch brought to your office and skip on dinner.

Sanji had already started cooking by the time you got to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind,” He says. Of course you don’t, whatever it is smells amazing. “I thought I’d start early so you wouldn’t have to wait too long.”

“Thank you for going through the trouble.” You say, glancing at the ingredients he had laid out: there are crushed tomatoes on the counter. Pasta simmers in a pot on the stove. You recognize the tubed shapes with ridges surrounding them.

“Rigatoni?” You ask, turning to the chef.

Sanji nods, “With a simple, creamy tomato sauce. Nothing too extravagant, but still specially made for you.” 

He puts the pasta into two bowls, grating parmesan cheese on top. Your mouth waters.

“Here you are, darling.” It pleases you more than you thought it would when Sanji sits across from you to eat as well.

There’s something homey and yet luscious about the taste. He really outdid himself. “It’s delicious, Sanji.”

“I live to please.” Sanji says before standing to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of red. “Zweigelt.” He says as he pours for you both. “Juicy and fresh, with just the right amount of acidity.”

You almost swoon at the rasp in his voice. You never realized someone could be so attractive when talking about wine.

As he clinks his glass with yours, you think to yourself that this might be your favorite dish from him. However, true to his word, he surpasses your expectations every time.

After a few weeks, on your sixth (or is it seventh?) time meeting Sanji past midnight, you've reached the point where you're able to open up to each other beyond the pleasantries that come with the food.

He tells you about his dream of traveling the seas in search for the best ingredients the world has to offer. You admit how you sometimes feel like life is just taking you along with the current—that you’ve never had a burning, passionate dream to aspire to.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Sanji hums contemplatively. “There aren’t any deadlines when it comes to finding dreams.”

“I do worry that you’re working yourself to the bone, though.” He adds, and for once, his smile looks different somehow. It’s a fond, gentle smile that’s sweeter than the macarons he made for you.

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of water.

“While I'm flattered you enjoy my food so well, do you eat properly? Shouldn't the palace be treating you better?” This time, you actually choke on your drink.

Could it get more embarrassing than this? Your ears burn as you cough, trying to clear your throat and settle your heart.

“Breathe, love." Sanji, ever the gentleman, is next to you in a flash of a second. He pats your back gently and supportively. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“It's alright—and, I do eat,” Your voice comes out raspy. “It's just that I don't usually have an appetite for dinner.”

“But that leaves you hungry for a midnight snack?” Sanji asks, a knowing expression on his face as he refills your glass.

“Exactly.” You smile. Thankfully, your throat has calmed down. Picking up a vanilla-flavored macaron, you savor the taste that melts sweetly on your tongue. Returning to his chair across from you, Sanji watches you eat happily. 

“I take pride in my desserts, but that chocolatier in Belltower street… The sweets are just—out of this world, I tell you.” He looks so excited as he talks, eyes aglow and gestures animated. “The chocolates are handmade and everything. I'm sure you've heard of it?”

“Um…” Hesitating, you certainly remember issuing a business permit for a chocolatier; but you can’t say you’ve gone there yourself.

Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Surely you’re pulling my leg. You haven’t been?”

“...”

He observes you quietly, like he's considering what to do next. There have been instances when Sanji stays quiet, doesn't eat, and only watches you chew. The times where he insists that he's content with seeing you eating well. Those were awkward at first, but you learned that was just part of spending time with him. Your reaction was a reward on its own.

But this isn't like that. Something feels oddly different in the way he seems to be gathering his composure. The silence almost worries you, but thankfully he breaks it first.

“You’ve saved me the trouble of thinking of a place to take you to.” Laughing, Sanji practically glows in elation. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You had a peculiar sense that you would’ve loved going anywhere, as long as you were with him. 

Feeling bold, you suggest, “I’m free this Saturday if that’s good for you?”

He gives you that soft, enamoured look again. Something makes you hold your breath, your fingers tingle and the entire rest of the world slows down. You’re almost certain you’re giving him the same look.

“Even if I wasn’t, love, I would have gone to you anyway.”

The next day, a Thursday, your brother unexpectedly knocks on your office door.

“Hey,” You smile. “Is something wrong?” 

It’s rare for August to look for you in the middle of the day. If either of you need to speak, it’s usually you who heads into the training grounds to talk to him. The other way around occurring is curious.

“I wanted to invite you to watch the knights train this Saturday.” He says coolly. “It would boost their morale if you spoke a few words.”

The commander goes on to speak, not catching that you’ve short circuited somewhat, trying to rack your brain for a valid excuse to decline him.

“And maybe, you could pick out a personal knight like I’ve been telling you.” August prompts. “You really should—”

When he pauses, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously, you suddenly recall why you stopped trying to hide anything from him. 

“You already have plans.” He says, face carefully blank.

“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood. But wait, his eyes are widening. Why is he making that face? Why is he looking at you like he just figured out—

“You have a date.” Darn it all.

August is bewildered, not knowing what to do with the information he put together. He awkwardly brushes his fingers through his hair.

“...Is he a good guy, at least?” He settles with, asking carefully in that concerned way he does when he looks out for you.

Biting your lip, you nod. “He seems to be, so far.”

“Okay.” August responds. “Does Chrysanth know?”

“It’s nothing serious.” Yet. Yet? Do you want it to be? “You’re the first I’ve told.”

A worrying thought suddenly pops in your mind. Your turn to him, distressed. “Please don’t tell her yet, August.”

“Why?” His frown deepens, like he’s about to ask more questions. Unfortunately for him, you decide you’ve had enough talking about Sanji to your brother for today.

“Aren’t you busy?” You grab his arm, guiding him out of your office. “Don’t you have training to get to?”

“I do, but—why can't Chrysanth know?” You open the door for him and try to push him out, but August plants his feet; still trying to figure you out. He doesn’t budge an inch.

But then he makes that face again. That annoying ‘aha!’ face.

“You really need to go, good luck with training! Tell the knights I said hi—” You manage to shove him out with all your strength, but at the last second before you close the door, August turns around again.

“He’s a commoner, isn’t he?” You slam the door at his face. 

It doesn't matter. Sanji's status will never matter to you. Not when he's holding your hand so sweetly while he guides you through the winding streets of the city. You recognize some shops by name, knowing who owns what and when they established their business. But Sanji knows these streets, and he's more than happy to show you.

“Ah, one moment, my dear.” Sanji pulls you towards a quaint little cart overflowing with flowers. He flicks a coin to the vendor, eyes scanning all the vibrant colors and bursting petals. 

Somehow, without you needing to tell him, he picks one in your favorite color. You're starting to feel like that's just part of being with Sanji—that he knows what you want, and knows what you need before you do.

The flower is soon tucked into your hair, behind your ear. His fingers linger on the side of your face—and normally, you'd break eye contact and shy away. Maybe let out a halfhearted excuse that you should continue on your way. But you don't.

You smile back at him, not bothering to hide the genuine happiness you feel. And when Sanji pulls back, you're already holding out your hand before he reaches for it. There’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel like you're walking on air when he tugs you along again.

As planned, Sanji takes you to the chocolatier he told you about. The building is small, tucked between larger shops in the middle of a busy street, but there’s no doubting the quality of their confections.

The elderly chef behind the counter greets Sanji like a grandson she hasn’t seen in forever. She ushers him in, enthusiastically pointing to this and that, saying she moved some furniture around as he suggested.

“It looks perfect, grand-mère.” Sanji smiles, taking in the beautiful glass display. Chocolates of every flavor cover the shelves from end to end.

Grand-mère’s eyes light up when she sees you. She casts an approving look at Sanji, “I like this one. She might even be too good for you.”

“That’s because she is.” Sanji laughs, and you pretend to browse the menu while they talk.

“No need for that, ma chèrie.” The menu is plucked from your hands. Sanji sets it aside, pointing instead to where grand-mère is behind the counter. She's wrapping up a box of chocolates that she hands to you.

“No need to pay, dear.” She smiles, patting your hand. “If he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

Sanji whisks you away through the streets again. You've never been this far into the city before. Looking back at the path you've taken and not recognizing any of it, you know you’d be absolutely lost without Sanji by your side.

“Almost there.” He tells you, pointing to a cobbled path that inclines upwards. 

What meets you at the top of the path is a small clearing. A stunning tree with blossoms on its branches stands at the center. Flowers and petals flutter away and fall onto the iron bench beneath it.

“Sanji, this is lovely...” You trail off, letting go of his hand to catch a flower into your palms. The flower twirls delicately between your fingers before you turn back to Sanji, tucking the blossom into the pocket of his suit.

Sanji takes your hand before you can pull away, bending down to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Not nearly as lovely as you.”

The two of you spent hours under that tree, sharing chocolates and stories—feeling like this is how things are supposed to be. Not necessarily the flowers, or the chocolates, or even the sun setting beautifully in so many warm colors.

Just Sanji. With you, next to you. 

All at once, it sinks in that he could be the dream you've been waiting for. But you don't tell him that.

Being enlightened on your feelings for Sanji becomes a second thought, however, when you’re swamped with work the following week.

“Don’t these people ever get tired?” Chrysanth groans, leaning back on her chair. “Why is planning a festival so hard?”

You approach her desk and place another stack of documents onto it. The numerous piles are getting concerning.

She scowls at the papers, then scowls at you. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of course I do.” You tap a stack of documents to her left. “The guest list for the ball needs to be approved by tonight so we can send invitations out.” She groans again, but picks up the list anyway.

You’re unable to see Sanji as often as you’d like, but you both promised to meet once a week. Even if it’s only for a few short heartbeats together.

You dearly miss him. You think about him as you hand Chrysanth menu plans for the ball. If he saw it, he’d say that he could come up with something better.

She glances at the menu, studying it. Or at least, that’s what you thought she was doing—until her next words proved you wrong.

“So, how are you and that chef doing?”

Your heart isn’t in your chest anymore. It sank down, deep into the depths of the earth. It also must have taken all the air in the room along with it. How did she—

“August?” You blurt out.

Chrysanth shakes her head, “Zeff.” Oh no. Sanji’s boss knows? Does Sanji know that you’re—

“According to Zeff,” She proceeds, cutting off your thoughts. “One of his subordinates has been cooking a lot of personal meals over the last few weeks.”

“I can explain—” But your sister holds up a hand. Your mouth snaps shut.

She calls your name, and then you realize how serious her tone is. “Are you familiar with the kitchen’s rules when it comes to using ingredients and supplies for personal use?”

“...I’m afraid I'm not.” You didn’t know the kitchen had any such rules… but surely Sanji does. Your voice stutters, “I, did—is he in trouble?”

“He isn’t.” She answers, though her expression is still grave. “But I think that you should be aware of how much he’s doing for you.”

Chrysanth opens a drawer to retrieve a list of kitchen rules. Reading it over, everything is standard and straight to the point. You find the answer to your confusion towards the end, a small, nondescript bullet that reads:

All staff must reimburse the cost of all ingredients used for any reason outside of official duties.

“He must know who I am, then.” You say, feeling relieved that he didn’t break some sort of impossible rule. “He wouldn’t have done so much for me if he didn’t.”

Your sister purses her lips, letting the silence linger for a second before responding, “He doesn’t know, love.” She hands you another document. “He’s been paying back every cent out of pocket.”

Tracing over the timestamps and the different ingredients listed, you stare at an outline of your time with Sanji. It’s nice to reminisce, but you can’t help but wince whenever you spot something particularly pricey. What on earth are you to do with this man?

“Zeff recognized your name when he asked Sanji who he was cooking for.” Chrysanth explains. “He didn’t tell him, but he came to me and requested for Sanji to be repaid.”

“Since anything served to me counts as official duties of a royal chef.” You piece together. 

“Exactly.” Chrysanth nods. “However, doing that would expose your title to him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you about this first… You should tell him.”

“I know.” Letting out a deep sigh, you agree. Sanji deserves to know more than anything. Nevertheless, the thought of him changing how he treats you—or worse, leaving—because of your status, frightens you to your core. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” You say, but your sister’s expression slowly changes. What did she plan this time?

“Or maybe, you could put the kitchen dates on pause and tell him in a few weeks.” Surprisingly, she hands you an invitation to the ball.

“I can’t bring Sanji as my date.” No matter how much you wish you could.

“Are you sure about that?” Chrysanth is unable to contain her grin. “Open it!”

‘…you are cordially invited to the spring masquerade ball.’

You gasp, “You turned it into a masquerade?”

“Yes, I did. You won’t believe how much convincing it took for the ministers to agree.” She rolls her eyes, but then her smile returns. “Don’t waste my hard work and have fun with your man, littlest sister.”

You laugh, not expecting this outcome after all that. “I love you, even if you made me go through so much emotional turmoil for fun.” She cackles.

“Of course I had to make you sweat after what you put me through.” Chrysanth scoffs, “I can’t believe I had to hear about your love life from Zeff, of all people.”

“Ah,” She says, remembering something. “Speaking of, why’d you guess August first earlier?”

“...”

“...Did you tell him before me?” She gasps. “How could you! Give that invite back!”

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” You admit shyly. “He’s a commoner.”

“If he treats you well—which, he obviously does—I could care less about all that.” Chrysanth reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Only those stuck up ministers will react negatively, I’m sure. We can deal with them easily enough.”

When she lets you go, she abruptly adds, “He better be cute though.”

That sends you laughing again. “Oh, Chrysanth, he’s the cutest!”

He certainly is. Especially when he sees you and grins, opening his arms wide in expectation. You fall into his embrace when you’re near enough.

Sanji takes your hand and places it on his arm, leading you away from the kitchens.

“Some of the others are still in there planning for the ball.” He explains. “It seems preparations are keeping us both busy.”

Sanji takes you to the greenhouse, which you’ve never seen at night before. Various patches of vegetables and shrubs line the space. There are trees and flowers towards the back too. It feels like a secret hideout, being here with Sanji. 

“I miss spending more time with you, love.” He whispers.

“Me too.” Your heart melts thinking about how much he gave for you. You wish you had the courage to tell him the truth now, while he’s looking at you like you put up the stars in the sky, but you can’t. You’re not ready yet.

Reaching your hands up, you caress his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. He places his hands over yours, keeping them there. 

Sanji closes his eyes to savor the moment, and you let him. You two stay like that, your hands becoming enveloped in so much of Sanji you feel like you could recognize him with your eyes closed, with a single touch.

There’s a certain familiarity to him at this point. You would probably have some difficulty adjusting back to life without him in it. He’s so familiar that you could probably draw him. He makes you want to try.

“...I was just wondering,” You say with a knowing glint in your eye. Does he remember those words when he said them to you that first night? “We’ve been working hard for this ball, wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it together?”

You give him the invitation, and he throws his head back laughing. You send him a confused look, but it all becomes clear when he pulls out an identical invitation from his jacket.

“Ah, how brilliant you are, mamour.” Sanji embraces you again, and you bask in how perfect it feels to tuck your head into the curve of his neck.

“It will be easy to find you even with a mask.” You murmur into his skin. He shivers. “You’re so goddamn tall it’s not fair.”

“I’m not too worried about you finding you, either.” Sanji begins to sway slowly with you still in his arms. It makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t wait to dance with him.

“Are you confident you’ll find me first, then?” You ask, adjusting your hold around his middle to snuggle in better.

“I’m not sure about being first,” He ponders. “But I’ll be sure it’s you when I find you.”

The greenhouse became your new meeting place while the palace was buzzing to prepare for the ball. You could only meet for a few minutes, but you treasured the time you shared just the same. 

Once, Sanji tried to feed you one of the expensive fruits growing there, but you declined, making up an excuse that you were allergic. He had looked at you strangely, but didn’t press you further.

You couldn’t find the time to see Sanji the week of the ball at all. Your time was spent welcoming foreign dignitaries, discussing business and trade. You and your sister had a marvelous time shutting down a marriage proposal from some duke from the north.

It amazes you how much you’ve changed since meeting Sanji. Had the duke asked before you met him, you probably would have considered it seriously. Whereas now, your standard is far too high. The man you choose must be able to get to your heart by cooking you the best food in the kingdom and all the seas. 

You’re glowing by the time you finish getting ready for the masquerade. The dress you chose is in your favorite color, with the skirt twirling dreamily when you turn. 

Chrysanth permitted you to enter the ballroom a few minutes late to avoid a royal entrance. You use the time to compose what you want to say to Sanji when you tell him the truth.

‘I’m a princess, and I think I might love you’, is that a lot to say? You sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress.

The clock on the wall chimes. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ball officially started. You put on your mask, tying the ribbon behind your head to secure it.

After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head to the ballroom—looking much more collected than you actually feel.

Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged to Sanji that you would find him easily, because you don’t.

You were mistaken when you thought all you’d had to do was look for a tall, blond man with a blue mask. (Sanji’s mask is surely going to be blue. He wouldn’t consider any other color. You bet your foot on it.) It’s unnerving how many people fit that description tonight.

You even find your brother before you find Sanji. August is dressed in surprisingly simple, all black attire. He looks more like a gentleman than a commander, lacking all those sparkly medals he’s usually required to wear at events.

“Where’s your date?” August asks, ducking his head slightly so that you can hear him over the crowd. “Chrysanth bragged about setting you two up.”

“I haven’t found him yet.” You answer dispiritedly. “I thought it would be easy.” 

August looks around, and you know that if he knew what Sanji looked like, he would be able to track him down in a flash. You’re about to ask what you should do when August suddenly bows, extending a hand to you.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” He asks in a fake pretentious accent that instantly makes you laugh.

It would be nice to say yes, but you desperately want Sanji to be your first dance. August would understand. 

But you aren’t able to decline, someone else beats you to it.

“I’m afraid her first dance is spoken for.” Sanji’s voice reaches your ears and suddenly the room is brighter than it was.

You almost gasp, elated that he found you. Were it not for that frown on his face, you would have voiced out your joy.

August and Sanji stare each other down. Neither of them say anything, but it’s clear that their first impressions of each other aren’t the most pleasant. Not liking the hostility you’re sensing is building, you tug at Sanji’s hand. 

Your brother’s eyes soften at that, and he bows again, this time to say goodbye. “I’ll see you later then.”

You watch August go, and Sanji grumbles something you don’t catch under his breath. You'll have to properly introduce them at some point, but worrying about their relationship can wait. You really must cheer up this grump who thought he was going to miss your first dance.

“Dance with me, stranger?” Intertwining your fingers together, you smile and take in how handsome he looks. His suit is still black, but there are several accents in dark blue—the same color as his mask.

The deep navy color makes his eyes look almost crystalline, and you recognize why you love him so immensely when he smiles.

“I would be honored.”

Sanji is more graceful than you expected. His movements are controlled and precise, never moving too fast and always making sure you’re falling into step beside him.

He’s proven, once again, that he can surpass your every expectation. Sanji spins you around, catching you by your waist and grinning before sweeping you off your feet again.

By the end of it, you’re left breathless due to far too many reasons, and they all involve him.

You had tried bringing Sanji to a romantic spot; maybe a balcony, or somewhere by a fountain in the gardens—but it seems that a lot of other people had the same idea.

Everywhere was crowded, but you suppose where you ended up is romantic in its own way. With the sky being cloudless tonight, you could see every star twinkling away through the greenhouse’s glass roof. 

Let the stars bear witness to you pouring out your heart to this man.

“Sanji…” You start, mentally preparing yourself.

“Yes, ma chèrie?” Sanji tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, you have his complete attention.

“There are things I must tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, not brave enough to look him in the eye yet; though you grip his hands tightly in yours.

Sanji waits. He doesn’t complain that you might be holding onto him too tightly, or nag at you for taking too long to put your words together.

When you finally look up to meet his eyes, you find the strength to breathe it out, “...I’m a princess.”

There’s this moment again, when you hold your breath and wait for his reaction; like when you first told him your name. Suddenly, it feels like you’re in the kitchen eating sandwiches with him again.

And, just as it did back then, his reaction surprises you.

His expression barely changes, the only difference being the barely-there furrow of his brows in concern. 

“I know, love.” He says.

“What?!” You drop his hands in shock. “Since when?”

Sanji blinks. “Since the moment we met.”

“But, I—why did you pay everything back? Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

His eyes widen, “Ah, is that why you wouldn’t eat anything from me these past few weeks? I knew you couldn’t be allergic to pineberries.” 

“Sanji, answer the question.” You pout, and he rubs your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

It’s Sanji’s turn to compose himself, you notice. He looks like he wants for your time together to stay lighthearted, when the thoughts in his mind are far from it.

“You didn’t want to talk about your duties, so I never asked.” Sanji shrugs, but you can see him getting nervous. 

“As for reimbursing the ingredients, I suppose I was worried that… you wouldn’t think of our time together dearly if I was just another chef on your staff.” 

Your heart shudders when he lets out a shaky breath. Oh Sanji.

“But that’s the truth isn’t it? I am, and yet I—” He pauses, eyes searching yours desperately. “If I didn’t pay for it, I would be admitting that a chef was all I’d ever be to you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “I don’t regret it. I would make the same choice if I had to.” Through the mask, you can see his resolve, but his hands shake as he holds you.

“I didn’t expect to feel this strongly about you.” Sanji continues, “You’re just so lovely, making me feel like I could take on the world for you.”

With your hands quivering the slightest bit, you pull at the ribbon behind your head. Your mask clatters to the floor. Raising your hands towards him, you push his mask up until it’s off, revealing the face of the man who has completely enamoured you; body and soul and all.

You think back to how the colors lit him up beautifully, that one sunset you shared under that blossoming tree. And now, he’s still just as beautiful, in this greenhouse under the moon and the stars. 

You love him all the same as you did then and every moment before. With the weight from keeping secrets gone from your chest, you finally let yourself admit it out loud.

“I love you, Sanji.” You confess. “I’ll go with you, if you’ll take on the world.” You try to say it calmly, but tears build up in your eyes. “You mean so much to me. You’re my dream.”

Sanji inches you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head. “I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine.”

You quip back at him while wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Sanji leans in the same moment you do, lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sends sparks running through every inch of your being. He pulls you impossibly tighter against him, strong hands caressing your back and holding firm at your waist. Your fingers rake through his hair, touching him to make sure he’s real. He’s here. He loves you. He knew. He always knew.

That night, you realized that your favorite taste from Sanji is his lips on yours. But, once again, he won’t hear you tell him that.

…

Sanji first saw you when a ceremony was held to welcome the new palace staff.

Everyone’s attention had been on your sister, the queen. Understandably so, but his eyes always strayed back to you. You looked gorgeous, wearing a stunning dress perfect for a princess as yourself. A cape draped tastefully down your back. And your crown sparkled brightly under the sun; but try as it might, it couldn’t be as dazzling as you.

Sanji was drawn to you instantly, and he thought he would go on with his life never understanding why.

That is, until you walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwich.

It would have been impossible for him to not recognize you. Regular office clothes or not, something was different in the way you carried yourself. It was difficult to miss.

Other people would have thought you appeared mundane. And yet, Sanji found you the most beautiful then.

Because you let yourself smile more when you don't wear your crown. 

But he won’t tell you that.

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @ay0nha @watercolorskyy @holymusicalmothman @appalost

author's note (yes, again)♡— sooo, what do we think about sworn knight!zoro x princess!reader ? 👀

[glamourscat]

Carnal need to call Tim the cringiest, corniest, lamest nicknames

Cmere shnookie wookie pumpkin pie

G'morning Honey bunches krispy kreme oatmeal muffin

Sup Forehead

Etc

He will not know peace, it doesn't matter who's there

He will be subjected to the absolute word vomit that is his partner's nicknames

(I adore your writing sm💕)

sorry for the wait <3 i tried something new, a few snapshots

it starts innocently enough. you're half-asleep on the manor's couch when tim walks in and your brain-to-mouth filter is basically nonexistent.

"hey there, snuggle muffin rainbow sparkles," you mumble into the cushion.

tim freezes mid-step. jason, who's unfortunately (fortunately?) present, chokes on his coffee. His lips twitching in somewhat of a grin, or so you think. You're too tired and your eyes close again, last thing you hear is Jason's loud laugh echoing in the living room and Tim speaking but you couldn't make out what he was saying.

he is kinda cute when he blushes... this is your calling.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Good morning, my little strawberry shortcake vanilla bean pudding pop!" you say as you enter the batcave.

"it's... three in the afternoon," tim protests weakly.

"sorry, my precious cinnamon roll."

dick, in the background, is not sure if he should cry or laugh.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"this has to stop," tim says, but he's fighting a smile.

you smile at him, going to hug him. "whatever you say, my darling dearest googly bear sunshine buttercup."

he pulls you close, sighing into your hair. "you're the worst."

"love you too, honey bun"

Legend says, somewhere in Gotham, jason todd is still laughing.

[neon-draws-sometimes]

If you liked this poll please consider sharing @ayaaymananqar ‘s campaign and donating if you can!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/urgent-appeal-help-aya-save-her-family-from-gaza-war

Like us, she has interests in media and hobbies, but lately has only been able to focus on the conflict. She could really use your help! The price of food and other goods in Gaza is very expensive, and so is the price to cross into Egypt. Aya needs support to evacuate with her family. Her campaign is vetted here at number 217!

[liulith]

Helluva boss fanimatics, animations and parodies 🥰

Backroads (Opening animatic) by Prim (Imp OC)

Basically Helluva Boss (animated recap) by Toffye

Blitzø being Brandon Rogers for 1 minute and 37 seconds by Danaconunaene

Blitz can't be honest by Valy

Blitz explains his business strategy by Dark Crowl, misspanica1, YunanReigan

Blitz "Hates" Love by Artdoer @artdoer93

Blitz lies to himself by _anko

Blitz's incredibly epic bachelor party by Ayvee

Blitzø VS Grandpa by Brandon Rogers

Caffeine by Art of Rhues (Fizz & Ozzie)

Cheating is fun! by Fiventie (animatic by Danaconunaene) (Blitz, Stolas & Stella)

Chocolate by NoriTheLord (Blitz, Fizz, Alastor)

Cursing (Blitz as Brandon Rogers) by Joshiro_19

EVERYBODY DO THE FLOP 🎵 by 사리면&Sari (I.M.P)

Fizzarozzie waltz by Valy

Fizznapped by Tomotasauce (s2e6 parody)

goodbye horses 🎵by dwinni (circus flashback)

Goodbye 🎵by Cinnamon (full cast)

Greg & Rose dance by DaniDrawsVids

Helluva Boss Bloopers by @artdoer93

HELLUVA BOSS VS MURDER DRONES by Morø Productions

Hotel Felicidad 🎵 (Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel animatic w/ English subtitles) by Athena Fandubs and Yakko

I AM A MAN by NoriTheLord (Blitz & Fizz)

"Just Listen to Me" by Dark Crowl + dub by Paranoid DJ (6 minutes animatic taking place right after Ozzie's)

Lilo & Stitch scene by Valy (S2e1)

Mammon's Ladies by Cinnamon

Mini Cream by Prim (Robo Fizz)

Moxxie is angry by EmositeCC

Moxxie sneeze by Ky Bullock

Nothing's working out 🎵 by 사리면&Sari

OFFICE ISSUES by AnimatedMau (I.M.P)

Patchwork Staccato 🎵 by 黑貓

"Perfect crime" by Dark Crowl + dub by KovutgeVA | v2: Blitzø marries Stolas dub by Devy-D

PLAYGROUND 🎵by Austin Kalista (Loona & Via)

Pregnant Meme by @robocatrc (I.M.P)

RE: Cutie Honey OP parody by Art of Rhues @artofrhues

Sassin' a Clown (Fizzarozzie & Mammon)

Say my name 🎵 by Ghost Animations (Fizz & Octavia Goetia)

second meeting with Striker by Dark Crowl

Seikaku warukute sumimasen 🎵 by 黑貓

She is... 🎵 by EmositeCC

SHIT 🎵 by Prim (Blitzø)

Since you've been gone 🎵 by Cinnamon (HB & Hazbin Hotel cast)

Stolitz date movie by Miles Cooper

Sway 🎵 by Dark Crowl (Stolitz)

THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS when... by @robocatrc (Blitz & Loona)

THAT'S WHAT I WANT (opening) 🎵 by Foxby

The good place never felt worse by Prim (Blitz & Cash)

The important conversation by Dark Crowler (Stolas & Paimon)

The Towel (Moxxie & the mafia)

The whole being dead thing 🎵 by Danaconunaene (Fizzarolli)

Travel-sized Crimson by Cinnamon

UNHAPPY CAMPERS epilogue fan animatic by EmikaPika (M&M)

Your stupid face 🎵by CrystalCalico

Who is more powerful: Alastor or Stolas? Hunicast animatic by Leaffy Bun

You're still here? Check out my other rec lists: Vox animatics, Alastor animatics

[overtaken-stream]

What's your opinion on Katakuri being a dad ^-^, ik he doesnt pull out

Father!Katakuri headcanons

This is all my brain can come up with. It's a bit short, and I'm not satisfied with this, I feel like I could have added more, thus this has been collecting dust in my drafts. I hope you like it anon.

Warnings: End of Wano spoilers, this is meant for F!Reader.

I imagine he had children after Big Mom passed. Or a few years before she died, and of course, the marriage was arranged once Big Mom realized that she might just be left without any offspring from her third child.

And as much as I'd like to get lost in Father Katakuri, I can not ignore the warning signs this road presents.

The man doesn't see his children often enough. He always wanted to spend time with his family, but in this job, that isn't possible. Big Mom often holds his family over his head, making empty promises about him having a week off to help take care of the children, only to call him back before the sun rises on the fourth day. He had the courage to ask her for more time at the beginning, or to not disturb him during that single week where he spends time in metaphorical paradise with kids whom he loves and his partner whom he tries to shower with affection. He asked that of her once and when Big Mom does not deliver, Katakuri learns to cope with the dissatisfaction, it's a song he has heard of all his life, he knows every word and note that plays, he wants nothing more than to stop listening so that his kids don't step away from him again. It's impossible, and he comes to terms that he won't have that fatherly privilege. He feels like a stranger around the kids. No amount of comfort will be able to hide the truth.

It isn't the first time Big Mom pushed away a father from his biological children.

Although his time with his kids is short, it's always full of adorable moments, Katakuri is trying very hard to be a father even with his mother standing in his way.

I see Katakuri as a father of 3. Two girls and one boy, who is the youngest.

The man loves sweets, donuts, chocolate bars, cinnamon buns, and all, so he will be DEVASTATED if one of his kids isn't a big fan of sweets. He'll try to make them change their mind, maybe persuading them to eat a different kind of dessert, but once it becomes clear that they aren't into it, he accepts the fact with great pain, since he cannot share the simple pleasure of eating sugar with his child.

Katakuri often can't get his emotions across to others, including his siblings, but with his children, he tries, he really tries. This can be seen in spending quick yet platonically intimate moments with them alone and making small talk that he isn't a big fan of.

He also hopes that when the children grow up, there won't be any distance between them, it's basically a death sentence for him.

The moment Big Mom dies, Katakuri is finally able to keep his promise to his family and breathe with no one holding his leash.

I also think of him as a laid-back father who's strict when needed. His behavior is the result of countless years he spent mulling over his future family and what type of parent he would be. So this led to him walking on metaphorical eggshels that he imagined every time he got close to his children. Which they definitely took for granted.

Katakuri is very careful with his children because of it, I'd say that he is so scared that the kids would build a wall and be mad at him for not spending enough time with them that the man unconsciously started constructing the said wall.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! You helped me find a fic before so I’ve got another one for you:) I think it’s omegaverse where mates scents compliment each others and stiles thinks he smells like boring vanilla and Derek smells like cinnamon. Stiles is obsessed with these cinnamon buns and in the end Derek tells stiles he smells like those cinnamon buns to him. I think Derek and Scott might be brothers in this but I might also be getting my fics confused lol. I read this years and years and years ago so and have not been able to find so it might have been deleted, you’re my last resort😅 Thank you!

Hi anon! @wolfandravenrecs says it's this one.

But We're Still Sleeping Like We're Lovers by CharWright5

(15/15 I 107,599 I Explicit I Sterek)

There are several things Stiles Stilinski knows to be facts: he's a werecoyote like his parents; his twin sister Malia could use a filter more than him; he's an Omega and terrified of his upcoming heat; and Derek Hale-McCall will never see him as anything more than his kid brother's best friend. Doesn't stop Stiles from asking the Alpha to help him during his heat. Or from developing some serious feelings that go beyond the bedroom. Basically, he's totally screwed, in more ways than one.

[cr0wb0y]

I wish people understood Tim Drake as more than just “sleep deprived coffee addict cinnamon bun.” He is such a deep and complex character when you actually look into who he is. Yea he’s missing a spleen, but he’s also, a fighter, a genius, Robin by choice, obsessed with his best friend, founder of atleast one team, kinda insane, a nepo baby twice, the worlds youngest ceo, and possibly a better detective than Batman. You also get the other side of mischaracterization which paints him out to be the “obedient” Robin, which makes him lame apparently. But no, sure he follows Batman’s rules, he idolized the guy for his whole life basically. That and he cherished the role of Robin a lot. Despite that, he lies and disobeys Batman constantly. He isn’t boring, he’s just older than the other two when they started and therefore more mature. He didn’t want to lose the Robin mantel by being too stupid in the field. But bro goes off and does dumb shit all the time, he fucking went after two face WITH NO TRAINING, he just put on the suit and went after Batman and Dick. And the whole Joker Jr. thing?? Don’t even get me started on him as Red Robin, that’s a whole different post.

[littleslaywrites]

silent night | spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer and you celebrate your first christmas as parents

word count: 1.7k

cw: pure fluff

The house was quiet for once. Both Spencer and Laurence were asleep, and you probably should be, too, but you couldn’t help but indulge in the moment. You had just had your first Christmas with Spencer as a family of three. Spencer had his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck, the colored lights outside shining through the blinds and reflecting on his brown curls. You could hear his steady breathing in your ear. 

Laurence was too young to understand the holiday, but that didn’t stop you two from spoiling him. The gifts under the tree had piled up as the team pampered your new baby. He’d been born in early November, so you’d assumed that all of his gifts would double as Christmas presents. You should’ve known your friends would never let that stand, simply giving him twice the gifts. Garcia and Rossi had been the main culprits, the back of their cars piled high with gifts when they came to visit. That being said, the rest of the team was also guilty of pampering your family. Emily said that Laurence was the whole team’s grandchild, since everyone had basically seen Reid grow up at the BAU. 

When you woke up that morning, Spencer was already awake, the smell of cinnamon rolls drifting through the house. You had been awake late last night to feed the baby, and Spencer turned off your alarm to let you sleep while he cooked. He didn’t cook much, but he could manage putting the premade rolls onto a baking sheet. He’s washing the tray when you come in. He beams at the sight of you, even though you can only assume that your hair is a rat's nest and the dark circles under your eyes are more noticeable than your eyes themselves. 

“Good morning,” he says, frosting a cinnamon bun. He hands it to you, and you take it, savoring the sweetness. Washing his hands, he says, “I thought we’d wait to open presents until Laurey is up.”

You hum in agreement, too caught up in your breakfast to pause to speak. The two of you sit at the stools along the kitchen counter, silently enjoying your breakfast. Silence has been a common theme recently. When Laurence was sleeping, you did all you could to keep him asleep. Beyond that, it seemed like you didn’t have to speak to Spencer to be heard anymore. You two had gained an understanding that was beyond any words you could say. 

Halfway through your meal, Laurence’s cries tell you he’s awake. Spencer insists on getting him, wanting you to finish eating. 

You’re washing your plate when he comes out with the baby in his arms. The picture makes you smile, Spencer’s large frame practically swallowing Laurence up. You walk over to greet Laurence as he yawns. He’s stopped crying, comforted by his father’s presence. The three of you make your way to sit under the tree. You’ve been dying to open the gifts, even though Laurence won’t know what they are.

The first you open is from Penelope, a large gift bag. You pull out plushie after plushie. An elephant, dinosaur, koala, sheep, giraffe, and a monogrammed bunny. Spencer holds the bunny up to Laurence. “I think he likes it,” Spencer says, Laurence’s eyes trained on the soft toy. 

Next are small boxes, also from Garcia, all full of tiny outfits. She insisted on getting clothes, despite your warnings that he’d grow out of them. She’d told you that pictures of him in the outfits were worth it, even if they only got worn once. Unwrapping one of them, you hold up a onesie that reads “Future Genius”, making Spencer laugh softly.

You move on to a tall gift from Morgan, pulling the paper off to reveal a stack of baby books. “Maybe he’ll be a reader like you,” you say, holding up one of them. Spencer smiles at the thought, picturing bedtime stories and a library that grows along with your son. 

Then you start to work on Rossi’s pile of gifts. You unwrap the soft, plush fabric of a baby blanket, its pastel blue matching Laurence’s nursery perfectly. Your heart swells with affection as you run your hand over the embroidery of your baby's name. Another is a kit for making a mold of the baby’s hand and foot prints. “We should preserve these tiny hands before they grow too big,” Spencer says, Laurence’s palm wrapping around one of his fingers.

You pull a small box from Emily, opening it to reveal a tiny glass ornament shaped like a snowman. It reads “Laurence's First Christmas” and has a tiny picture of him above the writing. You hang it up on the tree, the ornament joining the ones you’d collected throughout your relationship with Spencer.

Finally, you get to JJ’s, a photo album with your baby’s name in cursive on the front. You flip through the pages. It has spots for his milestones, a record of his first year. Spencer loves it, as he keeps physical albums instead of storing pictures on his phone.

Laurence is back asleep by now, but Spencer decides not to bring him back to his crib, even if his arms are starting to get sore. “You are so loved, Laurey,” you say, leaning over to whisper to his sleeping form. You feel overly spoiled, knowing there’s no way to pay the team back for all their generosity, both in their gifts and their support. 

“Open that one,” Spencer says, nodding at a little box with a bow on it. He’s smiling, anticipating your reaction. He truly knows you better than you know yourself, so you know you’ll love whatever he got you. You raise the lid of the box, finding a necklace with three small stones on it. “It’s our birthstones,” he says. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Help me put it on”. He hands you the baby so he can help, closing the clasp while holding up your hair. You thank him, keeping Laurence in your arms so Spencer can open his gift. You got him sweaters and a stack of photos. 

“I should’ve put them in an album, but I never got around to it,” you say. You’d been so busy with the baby that you hardly had time to wrap anything.

“It’s perfect.” He leans in to kiss you lightly, maneuvering around where Laurence lays in your arms. “You already gave me the greatest gift I could ask for,” he says, running his thumb through your baby's sparse hair, admiring how his tiny eyes flutter as he sleeps. 

At the bottom of the pile of gifts, you find a small envelope addressed to Laurence. “I know he can’t really appreciate anything right now,” he says as he picks it up, “so I wrote something for him to open when he’s a little older.” He explains that it details all his thoughts and emotions from Laurey’s first month, Spencer planning on giving it to him on some special occasion when he’s older. 

You smile at the gesture. You’d never imagined that you could be so overwhelmed with love. Spencer had loved you more than anyone ever had, showering you with his affection since your very first date. Somehow, he managed to love your son even more. He’d been attentive and caring, albeit a bit protective about the two of you. Often you found yourself thanking the universe for bringing him into your life, as you couldn’t imagine a more perfect father for your child. 

Laurence fusses a little, and you decide it’s time to return him to his nursery. Spencer takes him back, rocking back and forth to calm his cooing.

The sound of the radio playing “Silent Night” fills the room, and for a moment, you’re transported back in time. It’s the song Spencer played the first Christmas you spent together, one of his records being a Christmas album. You remember how shy he was, how you had to convince him to buy a real tree, but now, with Laurence in his arms, you see how much the two of you have grown. 

There's a quiet smile on his lips, an expression you've come to know as his thinking face. You stand slowly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I never thought I’d have this,” Spencer whispers. 

You kiss him on the cheek. “You’re an amazing dad, Spencer.” He smiles, eyes glistening with happy tears. He keeps saying becoming a father has made him soft, every little thing his child does bringing him to a whimpering mess. Last week, Laurence had lifted his head for the first time, and he joked that he cried more than the baby does.

Placing a small kiss on your forehead, he takes the baby away. You watch them walk off, gently sitting down on the couch and savoring the warmth of the fireplace.

The rest of the day is business as usual, the two of you taking turns caring for Laurence. In between, you watch festive movies, resting while you can. Spencer holds you tight as you watch It’s a Wonderful Life. “Here’s to my big brother George, the richest man in town,” one of the characters says. He smiles, and with your head on his shoulder and his baby sleeping in the other room, he feels quite rich himself. By dinner time, the two of you are exhausted enough to resign to ordering takeout. You pair a pizza with hot chocolate, as traditional as you can manage.  

As the day fades and the house becomes bathed in the warm glow of the Christmas lights, you fall asleep on Spencer’s shoulder. He carries you to bed, gentle to avoid waking you during one of your rare moments of rest. He still holds you like you’ll break. He’d researched the impacts of birth on the body, doting on you even when you protested. At this point, you could only assume he’d never give it up, forever treating you like you were made out of glass. 

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night, savoring the silence. At some point, Laurey will cry, needing to be fed. But for now, there’s nothing but the feeling of your first of many Christmases as a family and the love you have for your two boys.

[nightlark100]

My favourite Teen Wolf fanon

My personal favourite things I've seen reoccur in Teen Wolf fanfics (some might be canon, I didn't get past season 3). A lot of these are Stiles centric

Stiles having keys to everywhere in town. No one knowing how and being reluctant to ask.

Stiles bullying Derek into not living in an abandoned ruin/making him furnish his empty loft

Stiles having spies all over town who report on his dad's eating habits

Stiles being close friends with the Jungle drag queens

Coach Finstock knowing about the supernatural

Greenberg not actually existing and no one commenting on it

Isaac going to Stiles when he has a nightmare

Erica and Boyd going to Stiles for comfort after Gerard

Stiles' window being used constantly by the werewolves and him putting down a joke welcome mat for them

Stiles laying into Derek about him hurting the betas to train them

Stiles mouthing off to the hunters when he's in the Argents basement to keep them distracted from hurting Erica and Boyd

Stiles having magical baking powers

Stiles being a great cook and no one realising

Coach Finstock framing Stiles' circumcision paper

Stiles being secretly terrifying so that even the high school bullies leave him alone but only doing anything when it's in defence of someone else (favourite example is him getting rid of all of the videos of Erica during a seizure).

Stiles upgrading his bat to make it effective against supernaturals

Stiles being the only one who knows where Peter lives

Chris Argent and Peter having some kind of 'history' with one another

Isaac getting over his initial wolf power up behaviour and basically being a cinnamon bun

Peter mocking Derek for his choice of betas and only liking Stiles

Peter being a snob about fashion

[tvgals]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I WANT SOME CAKE, AND IM NOT TALKING THE SWEET .

husband! gojo x black! baker! wife! reader x customer! geto

synopsis — when your best customer comes into your shop, your husband feels the need to share, just so your oh so best customer can see what he’s missing out on.

cw; food play, threesome, jealous gojo, ass eating?? awkward/ nervous geto in a way, semi-public sex, fluff to smut to fluff, my smut writing abilities aren’t the best so bare with me!!

you were in the back of the shop when you heard the bell over your shop door ring, signifying someone was here. “i’ll be there in just a second! take a moment to read over our menu if you’d like!” you call from the back. “ahh, i already know what’d i’d like.” you heard geto call from the counter. geto was one of your most loyal customers. he’d been one of your first clients to come to your shop when it first opened. you were a one man show, baking, icing, commercials, you name it. you met your husband gojo just two years after you’d created the shop, ten years in running and seven years of being married.

you basically ran from your spot in the kitchen to the counter. “geto! i haven’t seen you in a while. where ya’ been at?” you ask, crossing your arms on the counter and leaning forward. “y’know, around. met this girl and i’m talkin’ to her i guess.” geto shrugs, looking at the menu as if he didn’t get the same thing every time. “ooo, i see. are you gonna order or just stare like you don’t get the same thing every time?” you laugh, geto blushing at your bubbly smile. “yeah yeah. you know what i get. i’ll get a cinnamon bun with a glass of strawberry lemonade.” geto whispers, almost embarrassed of what he looks like ordering something so girly.

“comin’ right up.” you smile, walking into your kitchen. your husband walks into the shop with his arms open. “hey!” he smiles, everyone in the shop saying their hellos back. “in the back!” you alert your husband, who was making his way to geto. “hey.” gojo mumbles, picking food out his teeth. “hey. y/n’s in the back making my cinnamon roll.” geto replies, stretching. you stand in the back packing up geto’s cinnamon roll in a styrofoam box. you put his strawberry lemonade in a cup, a cute pink straw to compliment it. you walk to the front, looking at your husband and your best friend standing awkwardly next to each other.

“five twenty six.” you smile, handing geto his treat. geto grabs his wallet and hands you a ten dollar bill. “keep the change. i’ll be back later, yeah?” geto smiles, taking his cinnamon roll and drink and walking out. “see you later!” you wave goodbye, putting the 10 dollars in your cash register. “ain’t he the charmer?” gojo mumbles, walking behind the counter with you. “ah, he’s just generous like that.” you shrug. watching five more customers walk up to the counter.

“hello! i’m y/n, what can i get for you?” you smile, discarding of your old gloves and putting on new ones. gojo watched you as your customers ordered, your bright smile never faltering. “want help?” gojo asks, peering down at you. “i would appreciate it.” you grin, walking to the back. gojo washes his hands and puts on his own pair of gloves. your husband watches as you walk around the kitchen, staring at your ass.

“jesus, baby. might have to close shop early. those shorts look too good on you.” gojo teases, grabbing plates and a few styrofoam boxes to put the food in. “gojo! they can hear you y’know.” you roll your eyes playfully. “oh well, let them hear about how hot my wife is.” gojo snickers, smiling at your playful banter. “being hot won’t get any customers.” you say, putting a batch of cookies in the oven. “oh yes it will..” gojo grins, taking a few cups and straws.

“mhm…” you hum, leaning on the sink while the cookies baked. “y’know that geto guy…” gojo started, sighing. you let out a little laugh, grabbing a cup from gojo’s hand. “what about him?” you ask, watching the ice cubes fall into the cup. “uhhh, what’s his deal? is he dating someone orrrr…” gojo asks, turning to you. you shrug your shoulders and sigh. “yeah, he said he’s talking to this girl. i’m proud of him, actually. he’s been stuck on me for a while. i’m glad he can move on.” you smile. you realize gojo’s face falters a bit, him shifting on the balls of his feet.

“hm.” gojo hums. you open up the oven and take the cookie out with a mitten, hissing at the feeling of the heat through the mittens. “what’s wrong now?” you roll your eyes, looking over at him. “it’s just…he had a crush on you and you’re still friends with him?” gojo asks, his face scrunched up. “i mean, it was a while ago. i’m just glad he found someone else.” you shrug your shoulders, placing a few of the cookies into a plastic bag. “i see.” gojo mutters.

you walk out the kitchen to give your customers their orders, then happily taking them and paying you. “well, that’s the last of the day.” you smile to gojo, who was following behind you. “if you help me clean you can get a present afterwards.” you whisper, rubbing your thighs together. “is that so?” gojo whispers back, leaning over you. “mhm.” you hum, pressing a kiss to his lips. “but firssttt, cleaning.” you grin, handing gojo a broom. he groans and then smiles at you, grabbing your face with one hand to press a kiss to your lips one last time. “alright, ma’am.” gojo says, walking into the main entrance and starts sweeping. you grabbed a pair of gloves and started cleaning your counter and washing a few dishes. once you and gojo were both finished, you both plopped into one of the booths.

“hard day, huh sweetheart?” gojo asks, pulling you closer to him. “very. had more customers than usual lately. might have to start hiring…” you reply, fumbling with the hem of gojo’s shirt. “mmm…i can always help you, baby. i can always take some time off.” gojo suggests, rubbing your thigh. “no, no. your job is more important than mine.” gojo’s face scrunched up at this, a disapproving sigh falling from his lips. “nonsense. i am proud to say that my wife has one of the most successful bakeries in the city.” he smiles, pulling you onto his lap. gojo starts to kiss at your collarbone, looking up at you as your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“‘m gonna take you right here, yeah? is that okay with you?” gojo breathes out against your neck. you let out an airily laugh and a barely audible “yeah” and gojo starts to unbutton your shorts, unzipping them. you help gojo by shimmying out of them, your white lacy panties now soaked. “you’re so pretty, sweetheart.” gojo compliments, reaching around under your shirt to unhook your bra. you watch as gojo starts to take your shirt off, you raising your arms to make it easier. gojo sits you on the table, admiring your body. “my wife is so pretty…” gojo whines to himself, letting his hands roam around your body.

“gojo…” you mewl, arching your back. “i’m right here, baby…” he responds, pressing kisses down your stomach. “t-this isn’t sanitary…” you mumble, seeing gojo let out a chuckle. “it’s alright. we’ll be sure to clean it real good afterwards.” gojo smirked, pulling your panties aside. gojo pressed open mouthed kisses to your cute pussy, his nose nudging your clit. your hand moves to the back of his head, forcing the lower half of his face into your pussy. “that’s it, baby…fuckkk!” you moan,your thighs clenching against his head. gojo patted the inside of your thighs, signaling for you to open your legs. you whined and open up a little bit more, gojo running his hands along your thigh.

your sighs and moans eventually got louder, taking over you and gojo’s ears. which is why neither of you heard he shop door being opened. “y/n, that cinnamon-“ geto was cut off by the sight of you two, his lips pursing together. he lets out a nervous sigh, him feeling blood rush down to his dick. “shit, baby!” you moan, arching your back. “‘m gonna cum!” you warn gojo, your head falling to where the shop door was. geto’s eyes widened, him choking back a gasp. you eventually came with a groan. “shit, gojo…” you laughed, opening your eyes. your eyes widened at the sight of geto. “shit! hey!” you greeted geto in the least flustered way you could muster.

“uhh, i get it’s a bad time, sorry.” geto apologizes, putting his hands up in defense. geto turns on his heel, about to walk out the door before gojo let out a laugh. “stay. i wouldn’t mind sharing.” gojo laughs, looking at you. “would you mind, sweetheart?” you take a few moments, looking at the two men. “not at all…” you smile. “perfect.” gojo picks you up and walks you into the break room, laying you on the pink couch that you put in there. “cmon in, big boy.” gojo coaxes geto into the room. geto can feel his dick straining against his pants, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of you with your tits out and your legs open wide.

geto stalks closer to you, hovering over you and slotting a knee between your legs. “you’re so pretty…” geto whispers, pressing kisses to your lips. gojo smirks and leaves the room, walking into your little kitchen and opening the fridge door. he grabs the whipped cream and shakes it up a bit, putting a dollop in his mouth and walking back to you and geto. gojo places the whipped cream on the side of the couch, geto pulling away when he saw gojo’s feet. geto looks up at him, his breath getting heavier. “jesus. you’re such a dog, aren’t you?” gojo mocks, forcefully moving geto from on top of you and putting you on all fours on the couch.

gojo sits behind you while geto sat in front of you, geto only in his boxers. “hand me that, yeah?” gojo asks, pointing to the whipped cream. geto grabs it and hands it to gojo. he puts a mound of whipped cream on the small of your back. you let out a little “oh” at the feeling. gojo brings a hand down and smears it along your ass, some of it getting between your ass cheeks. “don’t just stare. shove your dick down her throat.” gojo says to geto. geto’s eyes widen and he takes his boxers off, his dick hitting almost above his bellybutton. you look up at geto, arching your back and grabbing his dick with two hands.

gojo is still behind you eating your ass, the whipped cream making it even more sweet. “shit..” you moaned on geto’s dick. he bucked his hips up at the feeling, mumbling out “sorry”’s. geto’s hand tangled into your hair, pushing you down farther onto his dick. you coughed and sputtered a bit, still taking him in your mouth. “ah shit…” gojo mutters, pulling away from your ass to rub your clit a bit. “that’s it…” gojos smiles. geto cums into your mouth with a groan. “mhmmm…” you moan, rolling your eyes back. you pop off of his dick and smile at him, kissing along his abs. “come get a taste, yeah?” gojo asks, looking at geto. gojo and geto switch places. now you and gojo are facing each other with you sitting on geto’s face.

“you’re so pretty, baby.” gojo smiles, pressing kisses to your lips. you hold onto gojo’s thighs while grinding on geto’s face. “thank you…” you moan, kissing him back. the kisses are sloppy and wet, sounding almost identical to the sound of geto eating you out. “oh my god..” geto moaned into your ass, his hands grabbing at your ass cheeks. “m gonna cum again..” you warn geto, grinding even harder. “cum baby.” gojo whispered in your ear. you came with a loud moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. “oh shitttt…” geto moaned from under you. you rode out your high for a minute, letting out pants and whines. gojo picked you up, you wrapping your legs around his waist.

“you can go now. hope you didn’t think i was gonna let you stay.” gojo smirked. geto pursed his lips together, standing up and scurrying out the shop.

“i really wanna know what he thought about the cinnamon roll.”

TAGLIST ; @looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly @chinaza444 @baboon-milk333 @marcelineormars @mxspiderman2099 @ts1mp0ne @23victoria @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @laaailuh @diorsbrando @madz-rulez @spiderheartzz @chinieh @asensitivecookie @tourbug @anikaluv @mainvamp @strawberryshortcake143 @spectr3inl0ve @anitatvd @yuckyygutz @janaeby @milesmoralesesposa @lily-pythonz @naijagrl @ninaaaazzzz @sucuretcannelle @captaincyberqueen @cafehyunji @gtsflawless @v1rtu4lsworld

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3

[otakubimbo]

You Don't Know Me

Gojo x F! Reader

You're just some hot bimbo who needs help with their advanced college classes right?

Context: Cussing. Misunderstanding. Typical Gojo Behavior. College AU. No curse.

next

Today was the beginning of your sophomore year of college. You would probably be more excited about this if you weren’t lost, again. Your newfound friend, Shoko Ieiri, just showed you how to get to all your classes this semester. The two of you became fast friends over the summer since you were both pre-med and had taken the same summer classes. You found her hilarious and cool, and she enjoyed your positive and calm personality. Just last week, she showed you around all the buildings you were supposed to be at for your classes because if there is one thing people can say about you is that you are directionally challenged. No matter what it seemed that you were always getting lost, that’s even how you initially met Shoko because you were lost and luckily, she was going to the same classroom as you.

Reluctantly, you reach into your pocket pulling out your phone and hitting her contact.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” She didn’t even bother with the pleasantries and got straight to business.

“No!” You started and you could hear her try not to laugh at you on the other end of the line, “It’s just that I wanted to make sure that I knew exactly where the building was at, ya know, a second opinion some may say.”

“Hmmn, a second opinion? Alright,” She takes a drag of her cigarette. Who the hell starts smoking before 8 am? “Where are you right now?”

You look around at any landmark you could use to give her your location, “By the dining hall.”

She sighed, and you knew you weren’t even close to the right building “You need to be near the library, which is on the other side of campus.”

You groan, realizing that you’re going to be late on your first day. You hated being late, even if professors gave students a pass on the first couple of days to navigate around campus, you prided yourself on your punctuality despite your inability to figure out how to get where you are going.

“Alright. Got it. Thanks, Shoko.” You say as you begin your long walk to the other side of campus.

“Yeah yeah. We still on for lunch?”

“Yeah of course. You know I got that 11 am physics but after I’m free.”

“Cool, so around 12? Yeah? You gonna need help finding it?” She teases and you roll your eyes even if she can’t see you.

“Bye Shoko.”

“Bye,” She laughs before hanging up.

Eventually, you make your way across campus only a few minutes late, not even missing the 5-minute grace period. Even with the directions that you were given, when you enter the lecture hall you do look around a bit confused just to make sure you were in the right location.

“You look lost, pretty. I don’t think you’re in the right place.” Your eyes shift to the voice coming up behind you. Your brow furrowed because you thought you would be able to follow these basic directions Shoko gave you. You look back at your phone and your schedule just to make sure. The white-haired man in front of you scans over your body from head to toe while you look. You had a figure that a lot of women would pay for, and you weren’t shy about flaunting it. Currently, you were in a pair of low-rise jeans, thong showing of course, with a V-neck crop top that displayed multiple chest tattoos on which a letterman jacket sat on your shoulders. Your hair was in a slicked-back bun that had your coils neatly tucked away in the back, a fresh dye job of a dark purple. Every inch of visible body parts was shimmering brown from what must be some sort of body butter you used which made you smell like heaven, a mixture of cinnamon and vanilla.

He thought you were stunning and just knew a pretty girl like you couldn’t be in the same organic chemistry class he was taking. Especially with the way you looked, a girl who looks like you, like a bimbo, on top of the fact you looked absolutely lost.

You finally looked up from your phone, catching his eyes wandering your body but brushing it off because of course he was,

“No this is definitely it, I’m sure of it.” Your words did not come out as confident as you wanted them to, “This is advanced organic chem with Professor Sho right?” You bite your lip hoping that you were right so you wouldn’t have to go looking for the correct hall. His eyes widened at you in surprise when you said what class you were looking for.

“Yeah, this is it.” He says in a confused tone which makes you a bit confused, but you brush it off.

“Whew great.” You say and turn to go take a seat in the middle of the lecture hall. You were so happy you made it to the correct place. The middle was the best place for you, since you had accommodation that allowed you to record the lectures and it was best if you sat in the middle. If you sat in the back sometimes the audio would cut out on some parts and sitting too close sometimes gave feedback, so you found sitting in the middle to be the perfect spot for you.

As the professor begins his lecture, you are in your little world that you didn’t notice that boy you spoke to earlier watching you over your shoulder. Something about you intrigued him, you weren’t even paying attention, just doodling in your notebook not taking down a single note. Yeah, he wasn’t either but that’s because everything came so naturally to him that he would be fine regardless. On top of the fact that you didn’t even attempt to fawn over him when he spoke to you, all you cared about was whether you were in the right class or not.

After the lecture was over, you grabbed your things and stopped by the boy you met earlier to thank him again.

“Oh hey” you call to him getting his attention, he looks up at you while he’s packing his stuff. “Thanks again for letting me know I was in the right place, I’m terrible with directions. Kaneko, by the way.” You extend your hand out to him.

He smirks up at you, finally, you were going to give him the attention he just knew he deserved from you. “No problem, Gojo.” He reaches out and shakes your hand. You grin back at him. “Well, see you are. Bye” you say letting his hand go and waving to leave. Now he was left, stunned by your absence because surely you had come over to flirt with him. But no, you just wanted to thank him and then left. He was left watching your hips twitch in those too-tight jeans, gazing at the rhinestone of your thong leaving the doors of the lecture hall. Did you think you were out of his league or something? He had looks and brains, no way was he out of your league. This annoyed him to no end, and you had no clue what you even started with him.

Luckily, for you, you were able to find your next class with no problem and by that you mean you asked someone beforehand while you were getting your morning coffee, and they gave you impeccable directions. So, you were in high spirits by the time you met Shoko for lunch at the dining hall.

“Aye Meya” Shoko calls to you for you to come have a seat with her already at a table. You happily bounce your way over to her table.

“How do you always manage to look so great even when you have 8 ams?” she asks in an annoyed joking tone.

“Every morning when I wake up, I think to myself ‘What if I died right now? What kind of outfit would I want to be stuck in for the rest of my life’ that’s how I get the energy to put myself together in the morning. The last thing I want is to be an ugly ghost.”

This made Shoko almost shoot her drink out of her nose as she laughed at you.

The two of you enjoy the rest of your lunch together and then separate to continue your respective schedules. This is the routine that you two keep for about a month or so now and midterms are coming up soon. During this time, little did you know that Gojo's interest was getting more piqued on you. The two of you only said the occasional ‘hi’ when you saw each other in class but that was it. He wanted so badly to have a conversation with you, but you never seemed the least bit interested but today would hopefully be different. As you leave the lecture hall for your morning coffee Gojo stops you.

“Oh hey, what’s up Gojo?” You ask, taking your AirPod out of your ear, and smiling at him.

“I just wanted to ask if you needed a tutor or anything for the midterm coming up?” he asks nonchalantly with his hands in his pocket. Your brow furrows as you look at him confused.

“No, I think I’m good.” You giggle. Why would you need a tutor? The lowest grade you had gotten in this class so far was an A- but he didn’t know that.

“You sure? I really don’t mind.” He attempts to insist, hoping that you’ll let him.

“Yes, I’m sure. Thanks, though I guess.” You say beginning to walk away putting your AirPod back in.

“Wait” He stops you again, “Are you being tutored by someone else?”

Now you were starting to get a bit irritated but not trying to let it show because maybe he was just trying to be nice and there’s no reason to be mad about that.

“No. I’m not but again thanks for the offer. I gotta go.” You say as politely as you can, giving him a small smile as you leave making an exaggerated movement in putting your AirPod back in, in hopes he doesn’t ask again. He sighs frustrated as he watches you leave.

“There’s no way she can’t be interested in me” Gojo complains to his best friend, Geto Suguru, in their shared apartment, flopping onto his bed.

“Are you talking about the girl in organic chem class?” Geto asks kind of uninterested, focusing on his own studies since again midterms were coming up.

“Of course, no one else is worth my time. Kaneko Meya”

Geto puts his pen down after hearing him say your name, “That name sounds familiar actually.”

“Like you know her familiar?” Gojo asks shooting up from his position on the bed.

“More like, know of. Hold on horn dog, let me see something” Geto remarks as he pulls out his phone pulling up instagram to scroll trying to find what he was looking for. “Bingo.”

Gojo suddenly appears over his friend’s shoulder. It was a picture of Shoko at some type of restaurant with the caption “On a date kind of nervous <3” and Shoko was tagged in it. The original poster is none other than you, TheGirlY/N.

“She’s dating fucking Shoko?!?!” Gojo yells in despair. Geto laughs at him as he keeps scrolling. “No, she isn’t look.” He shows Gojo the comments.

ChainSmokerShoko: Meya stop saying this! This is why I can’t get a girlfriend!

TheGirlY/N: No, it’s fun and this isn’t why you can’t get a girlfriend. Love you bestie! <3

ChainSmokerShoko: REPORTED

Gojo sighs in relief when he realizes that you aren’t dating Shoko but now he had to find a way to convince Shoko on how to get to know you better. He grabs his own phone to pull up your IG and scroll through it. There were a lot of photos like the one Geto showed him that had pictures of Shoko across from you at a table with similar captions, “just having dinner with the loml’ ‘me and bae out of the town’ and each one with Shoko complaining and you laughing her off. Other pictures were of just you, cute selfies, photos of you during summer, pictures of your notes and aesthetically pleasing set ups. You took part in thirst trap Thursdays a lot it seemed. Fuck, you were absolutely gorgeous to him.

“She is definitely out of your league. No wonder she won’t let you tutor her.” Geto teases as he’s also going through your IG.

“I’m probably the hottest guy on campus, we are in the same league” He scoffs turning back to his own phone.

“Did she even ask for tutoring?”

“No but look at her, and plus all she does in class is doodle and look frustrated. AND this is advance organic chem, there’s no way she doesn’t need help.”

“You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover Satoru.”

“Yeah, whatever” Gojo says before he decides to follow you on IG.

The funny thing about it is that Geto had met you before, at a meeting with the National Honors Society. You had a GPA that was higher than his and Gojos but he wasn’t going to tell his friend that, he was going to have to learn the hard way. Especially since you were the only reason that Shoko wasn’t failing out of her pre-med classes, you saved her during the summer break and if anything, you should be tutoring Gojo.

You always took it easy on the week of the midterms to not stress yourself out in every way, you can’t retain information on a stressed brain. But Gojo knew there was no way you were going to pass the midterm so that would be his opportunity to swoop in and assist you with helping get your grade up.

Now midterms were over and as always you got in class early, already doodling on a piece of paper while you waited for class to start. You knew that you would be going over the midterm today, so you don’t have your usual setup out since there weren’t going to be any lecture notes to copy down.

“Hey Y/L”

You hear Gojos voice as he takes the seat beside you, which you find a bit strange since he always sits in the back, but you don’t mind.

“Hey Gojo” You softly smile at him as you continue your doodles. You were just doing some chibi art today, confident in your grade from the midterm.

“How did you think you did on the midterm?” He asks you to try and gauge if you were concerned or not.

“Eh I’m sure I did fine.” You shrug casually. Yes, you were confident, but it wouldn’t matter what grade you got, it just matters what you do after. You didn’t stress but you strived to be better always.

“Well, I’m sure I aced it” He says cockily grinning at you. You just nod your head at him unimpressed with his boisterousness. “How about we both look at ours the same time when they get handed back?” He comments trying to get more out of you.

You give him a small giggle that makes his eyes light up, the sound was music to his ears, “Sure, if you want to” The idea to you was silly but why the hell not.

As soon as the midterms were handed back out, both you and Gojo had yours facing down until the professor said to look over it and if you had any questions today was the day to ask, as he would be going over anything people didn’t understand.

“Alright, you ready” Gojo asks, hoping that you would beg him to tutor you once you saw his higher grade.

“Ready” You giggle at him and the two of you flip your papers over at the same time. A wide smile spreads upon your face as you see the A + plastered at the top, all the chemical compounds that you doodled repeatedly coming to being usual, you had them memorized by muscle memory. You look over at Gojos paper and see that he received a B+, which is still a great grade.

“You did good. Good job” you say earnestly smiling at him, but all Gojo heard was condescension.

“You got a better grade than me?” Gojo says more to himself than to you.

“Well I mean — “You start before he cuts you off.

“How did you get a better grade than me?” He continues and your smile drops from your face, he didn’t even let you answer before he starts ranting. “All I ever see you doing is doodling in that fucking notebook of yours. I was even trying to get to tutor you because I just knew you needed help and was going to fail.”

You were immediately taken aback, why would he say that to you? He didn’t even know you.

“What?” You question, your voice breaking a little.

He looks at you, angrily “Are you fucking the professor?”

“Excuse you?” You must have heard him wrong because there’s no way he just asked you that.

“That’s why you’re always dressed like that. You must be fucking him 'cause there’s no way you got an A + on this hard-ass midterm and did better than me.” He spits as he snatches your mid-term, comparing the answers. Your body moves on its own as you stand up, the tears threatening to escape. Your arm goes back and you punch him square in the jaw, usually, you would be against hitting someone but the rage and hurt that just came over you had your body moving on autopilot. At the sound of your fist connecting with his jaw everyone’s head turned in your direction as blood flew out of his mouth.

Your body was shaking with rage, “you do not FUCKING know me. I worked hard for that grade you condescending prick. I’m sorry that your walnut sized brain can’t comprehend someone who looks like me getting better grades than you. Get the fuck over yourself. Do not EVER speak to me again, don’t even LOOK at me again. Fuck you, you blue eyed freak.”

You grabbed everything but your notebook that had fallen when you got up to punch him and ran out of the lecture hall. You knew Shoko didn’t have a class right now, so you make your way to your shared apartment trying your best to hold back your tears until you get there. Unfortunately for you, you get lost on your way there. Fuck. You think you’re on the wrong side of campus when you quickly turn around running into someone.

“Oh Shit. I’m sorry. Excuse me.” You get out trying not to meet whoever you ran into gaze.

“Y/L?” the person asks, holding your shoulders gently. It was Geto.

“Oh, hi Geto right?.” You meet his eyes, and his face grows concerned as he nods at you. “I was just trying to get to my friend Shokos apartment, can you help me? If not that’s fine, I’m sorry to bother you. I just…. Im just… a bit lost.”

He can tell that you are on the verge of tears, you look completely lost and not just directionally, “Yeah sure, she’s a friend of mine too I know exactly where that is.”

He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong just guides you to Shokos apartment. When you get there, you immediately throw yourself into her arms and try not to cry just yet until you’re sure that Geto leaves.

“Y/N?? What happened? What’s wrong?” She asks rubbing your back, death staring at Geto.

“I didn’t do it. I just walked her here.” He says hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, I ran out of class and got lost trying to find your apartment and ran into Geto. He said you were friends, so he helped me here.” You confess into her shirt before turning to Geto, “Thank you by the way.”

“No problem,” He says awkwardly for a second before checking the many notifications that he received on his phone while walking you here.

Seven missed calls from Stupid Satoru

Text From Stupid Satoru:

I fucked up. Fucked up big time. Call me back! Please!

“I gotta go. I’ll catch you later Shoko and Kaneko.” He says giving you a sad smile before he leaves. Once the door is closed, you immediately break down into Shokos arms.

“Hey, calm down. What happened?” She questioned between your sobs.

“I punched him and then I cussed him out in front of the whole class. Now everyone’s going to think i’m some crazy monster I already have enough trouble as it is because it seems like no one ever wants to talk to me but he just made me so upset. I just did it before I could even think. Then I ran out of class and then I got lost. Luckily I bumped into Geto, I didn’t even know you were friends and he got me here.” You say feeling better after your little crying spell, wiping your tears.

“You punched someone? Who? You’re not exactly telling me what happened.” She asked, her voice full of concern.

“Remember the guy I told you about who kept insisting he tutor me?”

“Yeah, I remember. That shit was weird.”

“Well, we got our midterms back and I got an A+” you say and Shoko cuts you off with congratulations, she saw how hard you were studying for the test, you barely left your apartment for a week. “He got a B+ on his and I don’t know why he was so upset that I got better than him, but he was. He said there was no way that someone who looks like me should have gotten a better score than him, claimed I don’t pay attention in class, and that I must be sleeping with the professor to have gotten such a good grade.”

“He said what?!”

“Yeah and that’s when I punched him” You say with your head down, Shoko squishes your face with both of her hands making you look at her.

“As you should of” She says proudly, she knows you are more of the docile type especially since you actually did know how to fight, you didn’t like using your strength on others unless for self-defense.

“Do I look dumb, Shoko? I dress this way because I like too, and I know I can come off as a bimbo sometimes especially since I’m bad at directions but do I seem dumb? I don’t want people to think I’m dumb, especially not to think I sleep with professors for good grades. I try so hard, you know that, and I just have finally gotten comfortable with myself….” you trail off unable to finish your thoughts, you just felt like complete shit.

“No, you’re just hot and confident and that idiot is an idiot. I know how smart you are. Shit you’ve helped me study with your immaculate notes all summer, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Being hot doesn’t make you dumb, that’s just a stupid stereotype, and the fact that he believes that is idiotic.” She attempts to comfort you.

“But then I cursed him out, said he had the brain the size of a walnut, told him never to talk to me again, and called him a blue-eyed freak.” You confess with a sigh, you really didn’t like how mean you were even if he deserved it.

“And he deserved it… Wait you called him a what?” She blinks at you a few times, hoping and praying you aren’t talking about who she thinks you’re talking about.

“A blue-eyed freak…. I know it was mean, but he started with me first and just….” You trail off, now feeling horrible about what you said.

“No, no, I get it. I would have said worse. It’s just that…. What was his name?” She asks through gritted teeth.

“Gojo Satoru”