#even if they don't get back together romantically I think they would make friends again

[ckret2]

Hellooo, I have a question about Billford in your au.

how do they get a chance to get together if both Mabel and Stanley are keeping a sharp eye on them, and forbidding them of any romantic relationships?

They are NOT keeping a sharp eye on them.

Mabel has identified Bill as a needy ex, and is determined to get him to move on—but like, he's gonna be dating around town! She's gonna meet a couple of the people he goes out with! (We're using the word "people" really loosely here.) And Bill's attitude toward Ford has evolved from "hey buddy, don't you wanna be buddies again, buddy??" to "if you don't like me then why bother." So getting Bill to move on is totally working, right?

(I DO still need to edit a couple scenes in some early chapters for TBOB compatibility on this front—but that basically only means Mabel's going from "I need to help Bill make new friends and keep him away from Ford so he won't be a jerk toward him" to "I need to help Bill make new friends and keep him away from Ford so he won't be a jerky ex toward him." Either way, she's mostly concerned about Bill being a jerk.)

Stan has realized Ford's weirdly obsessive over Bill... but not THAT kind of obsessive. It's like "interview him about his species while vivisecting him" obsessive. Like so. Ford gets like this about stuff! Stan might not have a damn clue what autism is but he sure as hell has seen his brother's special interests! He tried to kill that triangle for thirty years, this obsession is not coming from a place of love. He's worried about Ford—but he's NOT worried about romance.

As a bonus, the two of them DIDN'T have a past relationship—they're not actually exes, they just spent the 80s being weirdly homoerotic—so there's no grounds to worry that they might "get back together." Bill's current feelings on Ford are more mixed; but at this point in the fic, Ford honestly, genuinely, truly hates Bill with no romantic interest.

Plus, once romance creeps onto the table, Ford thinks "if anything happens between Bill and me, my family would never forgive me (and I'd never forgive myself)" and Bill thinks "if anything happens between Ford and me, the Pines would murder me, and that might not be hyperbole." They'll be motivated to downplay their feelings for each order before feelings even start to happen.

Bill & Ford tend to clam up around each other or only have shallow surface-level conversations when other people are around. When they DO have serious heart-to-heart discussions they trip and stumble into them when no one's listening. (They keep having serious conversations at midnight, usually in the kitchen. It's happened like, what, four times so far?) This is gonna continue in future chapters. Oh, boy is it gonna continue.

So during this time period, as far as anyone else knows, on a scale of 0 = sheer loathing to 10 = passionate love, Ford's feelings for Bill go from 0 to 2 and Bill's feelings for Ford go from 3 to 1.

It doesn't help that their idea of flirting is "spend an entire day arguing about whether or not Minnesota exists and compromise by agreeing the backs of dollar bills are blank. Tell no one how this is a compromise." This is some kind of shrimp romance.

(This is an actual upcoming chapter, and I wrote it like a week before TBOB came out where Bill has a whole paragraph about how Minnesota doesn't exist. Originally the chapter was about Wyoming. I still think Wyoming works better than Minnesota but I'm tickled "Bill claims a state doesn't exist" is canon.)

Add that all up? And by the time anyone realizes something's going on—IF anyone realizes something's going on—they've been licking each other's eyeballs and roleplaying erotic deicide for weeks.

(This is a slight exaggeration. Only Bill's into eyeball licking.)

[unfriendlies]

completely caught off guard, garam let out a soft yelp when angel had picked him up to hold him in his arms instead of on his back. he was quick to wrap one arm behind the man's shoulders while the other hand held on tightly to the opposing shoulder to ensure he wouldn't fall even if angel lost his grip. his brows furrowed, just staring at angel. he was so strong. another thing garam couldn't recall his now ex-boyfriend doing; carrying him, regardless of position. it was always something his friends did. when asked, his ex would tell garam his legs still worked so he could walk himself wherever they were going. he was starting to really question what he ever saw in the other man, he was probably the least romantic partner garam had ever had. if he was going to be completely honest, angel was far more romantic towards garam than his ex was. that fact made his expression soften, a small smile growing. "i'm not that skinny," he said softly, pulling his hand up to the curve of angel's neck. his weight was never something he worried about before because he ate relatively healthily but he had noticed he lost weight recently which he could now blame on his relationship. after being dropped down onto angel's bed, he let go of the blanket and shifted so his head was on one of the pillows. when he was asked about his preferences, his expression fell once again. it wasn't because he didn't want to talk about it, he just wasn't expecting angel to want to know. he was quiet, not because he didn't want to talk about it but because he was silently questioning why angel wanted to know. was it because he was worried? that was the only reason that made sense. the only other thing he could think of was angel was asking because he wanted to have sex with garam but that didn't seem plausible at all. he was sure that angel would have made some sort of attempt to flirt with him, hit on him, something to let garam know he wanted something more from him. but angel didn't do that, at least garam didn't catch on if angel had made some sort of move. garam exhaled heavily as he threw his arms up over his head, unintentionally making his shirt rise, revealing his lower stomach and the bruises his ex left on him. "sometimes it's okay." he replied, staring up at the ceiling. "i really didn't like it at first but..." he paused, making an attempt to shrug his shoulders, but the gesture was a bit difficult to do with his hands above his head. "i got used to it." he added in, glancing over to angel with just his eyes but he was quick to return his gaze up to the ceiling. "there were some things that i liked but not when it happened all the time. i think i like it better when somebody is more gentle with me. like, they're afraid if they push too hard, i'll break." maybe break wasn't the most accurate term to use, it was more like he didn't want somebody who wanted to hurt him. "i think i want softer passion. not so fast, not so hard... but i still want to feel his emotions when we're together... if that—" his full attention turned to angel, "does that make sense? i want to feel like i'm the only person in his life that matters, i want to be able to see his love for me when i look at him... i want to feel like i'm more than just a piece of ass, you know? i think that's what i want." he couldn't even say for sure, it was just that soft and passionate were the complete opposite of what his ex showed him whenever they were intimate. their intimacy lacked all intimacy. the man focused on what would feel good for him instead of garam, he never felt love when they were together. it felt like it was purely physical between them. but maybe explaining as much as he had was a bit of an overshare. even if angel asked, garam didn't have to go into the kind of detail he did. "you don't have to worry, i'm not going to let somebody treat me like that again. and i'll make sure whoever i eventually get involves with has your stamp of approval, you seem to know who isn't good for me better than i do..."

Garam’s nod as confirmation was all Angel needed. He stood quietly as he watched his best friend grab his phone. The taller man watched the other’s facial expressions closely before realizing the alcohol was beginning to affect him. A shiver rippled through his spine seeing Garam’s ex crying face on the screen. His lips were pulled tight as his eyes shot down. Angel thought seeing the man crying would bring him joy. He was getting back just a fraction of what he put them through. But it only made his stomach turn. His skin felt itchy and gross. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Let him suffer” he managed out glancing back up only to catch Garam texting his ex. Angel raised an eyebrow as Garam giggled which must have been contagious. The raven-haired man smiled offering a small giggle back. It was great to hear his friend laugh again. The screen was flashed to him once again. This time he didn’t look away. Scanning the text Angel let out a sharp breath. That text wouldn’t go over well but Angel couldn’t worry about that right then. “Take me to bed” Such a small sentence stopped Angel in his tracks. It wasn’t like the man hadn’t said it before. Angel had gotten used to carrying drunk Garam through the streets to either of their apartments. It was the way the man looked at him for a moment. His arms stretched out ready to be lifted. It took the man a minute to compose himself. Finding the whole scene rather adorable. “You are such a child” he teased to break the silence as he scooped his best friend up into his arms bridal style. “Easier to carry you this way…while you are staying here we are going to get some food in your system. You have never been this light” Angel commented as he guided them to his bedroom. As they made their way through his apartment he couldn’t help but think about Garam’s past relationships. They seemed to get worse with each one. Angel always kept his feelings silent. Watching each relationship pass by. It killed him his best friend hid so much of what was going on. Angel never judged him or so he didn’t think he did. But for sex to be that violent and their argument to lead to this. Angel couldn’t wrap his head around his best friend enjoying that. The grip he had on Garam tightened as they entered the bedroom. He was starting to feel the effects of their drinks but kept his composure. His focus was on making sure the man in his arms was okay. Angel stumbled lightly managing to get his best friend to the bed with a slight thump. He chuckled tucking his curls behind his ears as he sat on the edge of the bed. The question he wanted to ask hanging on the edge of his tongue. Even drunk he didn’t think this was the best time. But he knew he wouldn’t have the nerve to ask any other way. Besides the other was drunk as well. It made it easier somehow. “Garam?” Angel would never ask questions like this sober. He didn’t pry in such ways. He knew his best friend was private. The same way he was. “Do you really enjoy rough sex like that?” His words were slow, almost careful. To ensure he was saying the right thing. His eyes avoided his best friend. Angel looked down at his hands which he had been biting at out of habit as he waited for his answer. His feelings for Garam were festering inside him. In his drunken state, he was thinking he could never live up to that. He couldn’t see himself hurting Garam in any way. As he sat there the guilt of the question started to sink in. “Y-you don’t have to answer that. Sorry…these damn drinks” he muttered picking his head up and flashing one of his smiles.

[imakemywings]

Thoughts on Finrod and Amarie’s relationship

All purely headcanon based, since we get like, a single sentence about her in Silm.

> Her family are vintners who moved to Tirion for business opportunities.

> She and Finrod met when they were quite young (~5 years old by human standards). Amarie had already started presenting as a girl at this time.

> They became good friends quickly and throughout childhood and adolescence, sort of flitted in and out of having crushes on each other, sometimes at the same time, sometimes not, but nothing ever came of it

> Eventually as young adults they admitted they simply couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but each other

> Sappy. So fucking sappy. Obnoxiously sappy. Unironically calling each other “sweetie” in regular conversation. Making uwu eyes at each other in public. “You hang up first uwu” “no you hang up first uwuwu” “no you--” etc.

> They’re very good with communication. They talk things out very well. This is the biggest reason why they don’t really fight, and the lack of fighting is baffling to Finrod’s entire extended family. They had a disagreement at a party once and everyone was ready to see them actually argue for once but it ended with them crying and apologizing to each other and then making goo-goo eyes at each other for the rest of the party.

> “Why aren’t you going into [x room]?” “Finrod and Amarie are in there” “valid”

> As happens with families, the jokes about how obnoxious they are escalate into their relationship generally being a family meme. As a result, no one takes it very seriously, even after they announce their engagement.

> Thus, Finrod’s grief over leaving Amarie was significantly overlooked, and led to the conversation between him and Galadriel about why he wouldn’t marry in Middle-earth, because surely he can’t still be hung up on Amarie.

> They both felt pressed apart by family. Amarie stayed in Aman on her parents’ wishes; Finrod left to follow his family.

> Amarie’s parents were not happy about the whole “rebelling against the Valar and leaving Aman and on the way out killing a bunch of people.” The whole family left Tirion and moved back into Vanyar territory, and Amarie’s parents put a lot of pressure on her to publicly end her engagement with Finrod, which she refused to do.

> When they reunite in Aman, whether or not they stay together (I like to imagine they do but I know a lot of people don’t), there is definitely a period of re-learning each other because they have both changed as people since they said goodbye, but there’s also a lot of joy in getting to see each other again.

> Whether as friends or lovers, it’s quite scary for Amarie to see how traumatized Finrod returns from Middle-earth. It isn’t until she goes herself with the Noldor forces during the War of Wrath that she catches glimpses of the beautiful things Finrod had described to her and understands a bit why he was so fond of this place. She brings him souvenirs when she comes back to Aman.

[doggirlnarcolepsy]

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[neverendingford]

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[yawnderu]

Mine — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Art by @ave661!

Synopsis: knowing he couldn't provide you with the life you wanted, Simon breaks things off with you. Two years later, you come back to base with a baby that isn't his.

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, established relationships, breeding, erotic lactation, romantic love making, praising. No beta we die like Roach.

Ghost always knew his lifestyle would forever be considered out of the norm. A soldier who risks his life every single mission, a man who has built an entire plethora of enemies in multiple countries should never even bother settling down, yet why does it hurt to bad to see you come back to base with a baby that isn't his? It was his idea to break up— not wanting to destroy your dreams of wanting a family in a gated community, even when you reassured him living together as soldiers wouldn't be an issue at all.

"Say 'hi, Simon'." You tell the baby you're carrying, the tiny thing wearing a bear onesie is looking up at Simon, pure curiosity in her eyes. She simply babbles, short arms reaching out to touch his skull mask. To your surprise and to his heart break, he leans down so your daughter can play with the hard plate of the mask, not worried at all about her breaking it.

"She looks like you." He said with a choked voice, trying his best to sound calm. He doesn't even dare look at you, his gaze focused on the tiny girl you're holding.

"Dada!" She babbles out while touching his mask and Simon's eyes immediately go towards you, soul almost leaving his body in fear of seeing disgust on your face, yet all he sees is a bashful smile adorning your pretty features. He holds in his breath, eyebrows furrowed under the balaclava as he waits for your response.

"Astrid, that's—" You begin and she interrupts, one of her tiny hands barely being able to hold one of his big skull gloved fingers. "Dada!" She insists, louder this time. There's only 3 words the little girl can say including 'Dada', so you're not all that concerned about her seeing him that way.

"Sorry, she—" You get interrupted once again, this time by Simon.

"It's okay." If being delusional and pretending this tiny thing is his daughter helps him deal with the heartbreak making his chest hurt, he doesn't mind. The girl clings to Simon's neck and you lean closer, giving her a questioning look. She never liked being held by anyone but you, often crying whenever friends tried to hold her.

"This might sound strange, but..." His gaze shifted from you to the child, heart melting at the little girl holding onto the neck of his jacket for dear life.

"Can I hold her?" His voice was hoarse, hands almost shaking from all the emotions that hit him at once.

"Of course." Your warm smile reassured him, gently passing him the baby. He supported the back of her head with his hand, easily dwarfing her entire skull, yet being so delicate with his touch you could swear he thinks your daughter is made of glass.

Simon felt light headed as the little girl was slipped into his arms, fitting perfectly in his hands. His eyes lit up when he looked down and saw her soft, chubby fingers wrap around the chain of his dog tags, a small smile forming under the balaclava. He brought her close and cradled her, heart thundering in his chest at holding this lovely girl you created.

"Dada." She pointed at him with her finger, looking back at you as she squeezed his chain with her free hand. You could swear you saw one of his eyebrows lifting in amusement under the mask, the same cocky look you know too well.

"Maybe she wants me to be her daddy." He teased you, cradling the baby delicately in his strong arms, shielding her from any danger. He was instantly smitten the second he saw her, content to have your permission to hold her even after all you both went through.

"Don't be so smug about it, bastard." You playfully roll your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder to give your little girl a kiss on the forehead, her hand holding onto your hair softly the same way you managed to teach her after one too many times of having your hair pulled by the tiny creature.

"Mama." She attempted to pet your hair the same you taught her how to pet a cat, albeit her tiny limbs moved much sloppier and with surprising strength.

"I think it's sweet." He said with a cheeky smirk, the pain in his chest going away more and more the longer he held your daughter. He was secretly hoping to get a reaction out of you after almost two years of not being able to tease you.

"You can tell her no all you want, but if she wants a dada, she's got one." As if to prove his point, he pointed with his eyes to the girl in his arms, the child reaching out towards Ghost with a giggle. His fingers tickled the baby gently, making her laugh even more. You look between Simon and the baby, a fond smile on your lips when you see just how easily they get along, the pupils in his brown eyes fully dilated as he looks down at her.

"Look at her." Ghost spoke softly, one of his skull gloved fingers running down the length of her short hair.

"She looks like an angel." He looked down at the child with nothing short of raw adoration, gaze drifting back to you, taking in the sweet moment of your body leaning against his while you both fawn over the infant. You hesitantly move away from his shoulder after a few seconds and he gives you a questioning side eye.

"I've got a meeting with Price, let me—" You reach out for your baby and he looks down at you, gaze softening.

"I can babysit for you." He offers with a hopeful look in his eyes. How can you deny anything to this man when he's holding your little girl as if he would die for her no questions asked? When those big brown eyes are looking down at you, the moisture in them clear as day? You nod your head, offering a warm smile as you give your baby one last kiss in the cheek, accidentally tickling her and making her giggle even more.

"There's a few baby bottles in the fridge, just run them over hot water for a few seconds until it's warm— but not too warm." He nods his head as you give him instructions on how to take care of the baby, listening intently. He doesn't have the heart to tell you he knows how to take care of a child— he babysat his former nephew many, many times before. He doesn't even realize he dissociated until you gently pat his shoulder, walking to Price's office.

"You and me, yeah?" He asks your baby who simply giggles in return, tiny hands going back to play with the hard plate of his skull mask.

The meeting took much longer than expected, catching up with Price and talking about your possible return to the 141. It isn't until three hours later that you go back to your quarters, heart in your throat when you turn on the lights.

Ghost is laying on your bed, civilian clothes on with a hoodie covering half of his upper face, your baby safely secured on his chest. You don't have the heart to wake them up, instead grabbing your phone and snapping a quick picture, making sure not a single feature of his face is seen for his own safety and privacy.

The change of lighting slowly wakes him up, offering you a tired smile before his eyes close again once he realizes it's just you. You take off your boots and turn off the light, sneaking into bed with your lovely baby and... your ex.

It feels too natural to even think much about it, one of his arms instantly wrapping around your shoulders to bring you closer, head resting on his chest along with the tiny offspring. He drifts off to sleep soundly with his two girls and for the first time in a long time, he's able to get a full night's sleep, not being woken up by his violent nightmares.

Weeks pass as Simon spends more and more time with you, your new contract signed the same day you had a meeting with Price, though he's not putting you on any missions yet until they figure out who will take care of your daughter while you're away. Today Gaz and Soap asked to take her out, claiming they wanted to buy some new clothes for her since she's growing up fast.

"Hey, big guy." You greet Simon, who seems to have relocated to your quarters for whatever reason— the man literally spends his whole time there and you don't even question it anymore, simply assuming he wanted to spend more time with your daughter. You know details here and there about his family, though he was never clear about the full story. You sit down next to him and he nods his head in acknowledgment, too busy looking at his phone.

"Can I buy her this?" He points his phone at you, showing you a website selling pajama pants for babies, the ones he's showing you are grey and have a skull pattern all over. You playfully roll your eyes, nodding your head before laying down next to him, head laying on his chest while you look at his phone, browsing the website together.

"You don't have to buy her things, you know?" You take a few seconds to admire his unmasked features iluminated by his phone—the soft jawline, thin pink lips, high nose and skin around his eyes that always seemed to be tainted with eye black no matter how well he washed it off.

"Telling me what to do, Sargeant?" He teased, raising an eyebrow at you and being an asshole jokingly just to make you laugh. It only earns him a slap on the arm, phone dropping right on his face. He turns his head slowly to look at you and you can recognize the look in his eyes— you try to run away but he holds you down, fingers already tickling your ribs as you laugh and struggle, trying your best to get out of his grasp to no avail.

"Pause." You kick and scream, laughter escaping your lips due to the tickles. As soon as you speak he stops, looking down at you with a tender look in his face. You gasp for air and he takes the chance to look down at your lips, so close, so inviting...

"I saw that." You tease and he jokingly pushes your head into the pillow, laying down next to you with an arm wrapped around your waist. You giggle at the remaining feeling of the tickles before laying back down on your side, hand absent-mindedly tracing patters on his defined, clothed stomach. You don't know when you both started becoming so close again, yet the comfort is always welcome in the turbulent life of a soldier.

"When's that lot coming back?" He looks down at you, longing mixed with curiosity. Truth to be told, he knows the boys will keep your baby safe, but he wants to have her right back where she belongs— in his arms.

"Like... two hours, I think. If they don't find anything too distracting. Don't worry, I made them take a jacket for her in case it gets cold." He would never tell you he was the one to put the baby jacket in the car because they all forgot.

"Good, good." He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It's quiet for a few minutes, both of you finding comfort in the silence before he speaks again.

"Are you planning on having another one?" He asks curiously, gaze drifting down towards you, doing his best to hide the longing and hope in his tone.

"Maybe." You keep in simple, eyes staying closed as you trace patterns on the muscles of his stomach, feeling them flex involuntarily at your touch.

"Why? Interested on having a family with me now, Simon?" You tease, an eyebrow raised at him as you finally open your eyes. He seems to be thinking about it for a few seconds before hesitantly nodding.

"Bullshit." You sit up, looking down at him with a mix of confusion and hope.

"S' the truth." He plays it off casually as if he didn't confess being ready to do the same thing that broke both of you off two years ago. He pulls you back down to his chest, fingers gently massaging your scalp. You can hear his heart beat fast, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the knot in his throat.

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. It's too much all at once— knowing Simon actually wanted to settle down with you bringing a mix of anxiety and fear to both of you equally. He never had a normal family, and though deep down he was scared of being like his father, he already proved to himself he can be gentle and tender, the same way he is with your daughter.

His hand slowly drifted down from your waist to the curve of your ass, softly squeezing it while looking at you for any signs of hesitation. He finds none, and instead sees you leaning closer and closer until your lips crash, the passion of two lovers who never got over one another present in the kiss.

Clothes are discharged all over the room with no care at all, the quarter walls bouncing off with a mix of your moans and his low groans, a pillow under your hips while he fucked into your cunt, slow and deep thrusts making the tip of his fat cock slam into your willing cervix.

"Gonna look so fucking pretty with my kid." He whispers into your ear, breathy groans leaving his lips as his thrusts slow down, making love to you rather than just fucking you for a quick nut. One of his hands cups your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"Tell me. Tell me how pretty you'll be all swollen with my baby." You hesitate and he kisses your lips gently, gaze tender while he looks down at you, thrusts hitting deeper and deeper each time as he waits for you to speak.

"I'll look... so pretty—fuck— with your child." You manage to speak out between whiny moans, the way he's looking at you with pure love and adoration is all you need to confirm he does find you attractive. Truth to be told, it's difficult being confident after glint through something that permanently alters your body, yet he's looking at you like you're even more beautiful than before. In his eyes, you are.

"That's a good girl." He praises, hips rutting faster against yours as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your cunt, the nasty squelching sound every time he goes hits it hard making this even more exciting. He holds himself up with his elbows, large hands cupping your tits while he pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like a starved man finding shelter.

"These tits are gonna be so big too." He murmurs, swallowing the milk coming out of your tits with no hesitation. His hand gets busy with your other nipple, gently pulling and squeezing the sensitive bud, not minding the milk squirting all over. It's too good to be true— your body changing so much to keep your baby healthy and soon enough, it'll change for his baby too.

"So fuckin' perfect, baby." He praises, eyes closing as he focuses on how good your wet walls are wrapping around his unprotected cock, tongue swirling around your nipple before he latches onto it again, drinking the sweet milk coming out.

"This cock's all yours." He lets go of your nipple, face seeking shelter on the crook of your neck as his thrusts get sloppier by the second, embarrassingly nasty words coming out of his lips like prayer. You're the only one allowed to ever see him like this, to have him in any possibly way. He doesn't even care how he's promising you the world, offering all of himself to you without having any doubts.

"Everyone's gonna know you're mine, love." He whispers into your ear, voice hoarse and full emotion, hips stuttering before he buries himself all the way into your cunt, cum splurging out directly into your willing, fertile womb. He keeps himself inside, caging you in with his strong arms into a protective embrace, wanting to make sure not a single drop of cum is wasted.

"All mine."

[dramaticals]

did you hear what i said?

pairing: theodore nott x gryffindor reader

summary: after a year of secretly dating, theo breaks things off when classes start up again. it's now christmas eve and he's back with a figurative box of regret / requested by anonymous.

author's note: angst! there will be a part two with fluff, but i just needed to get this out since i've been writing this for too long. (please) feel free to leave angsty requests in my inbox because this is the genre that gets my gears going! but i make no promises on resolutions and happy endings ♡

"You look happier."

Theodore stands in front of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, his hands shoved into his pockets. His presence garners murmurs all around, even though the Great Hall was emptier than usual for the holidays. The sight of him makes your breath catch. It's been three months since you last spoke to him, but the memory of that night resurfaces, ripping open the wound on your healing heart.

It was back in September.

Theo had passed you a note in Potions, asking you to meet him in the Astronomy Tower after dark. It wasn't a peculiar ask, so you didn't think much of it at the time. The Astronomy Tower had become your and Theo's spot. A quiet place for the two of you to just exist—no interruptions and no expectations from the outside world. Your house rivalry was nothing in that tower. It was just you and Theo.

The two of you would spend hours hiding there, often cuddled on top of a lush blanket you had hidden nearby. You'd talk about anything and everything with him, from learning about each other's likes and dislikes to venting about classes and classmates. On nights where the two of you favoured serenity, it was never unpleasant. You'd embrace the quiet, exchanging sweet kisses all the while enjoying the comfort and protection of his arms.

That night in September was different, though. You sensed it the minute you ascended the steps to see Theo standing stiffly by the railing, his gaze concentrating on a bird on the horizon.

Theo didn't even turn to face you—acknowledge you—before he was muttering the words that shattered your heart into pieces.

"I'm over this." Theo said, his tone void of any emotion. His hand clutched onto the railing so tightly that his knuckles were pale.

Stunned silence fell over you. You just looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Did you hear what I said?" Theo turned to you then, and you could see the pained expression on his features. But then something shifted, and his expression turned cold. "I'm breaking up with you."

His words on their own were harsh, but the inflection on each syllable felt like he was personally twisting a serrated knife into your heart.

"I don't understand." You said. "Why? What did I—"

"I feel like you're getting attached, and I think we've run our course." Theo interrupted. His eyes, the ones you became so accustomed to, were dark and flooded with an expression even you weren't familiar with. Theo scoffed. "You didn't actually think we'd last, did you?"

Maybe it was the naive and hopeless romantic in you, but you truly believed you would. House rivalries, judgemental friends, and family expectations were merely obstacles the two of you would deal with together. You just felt so strongly about him, and you were certain he felt the same about you.

"Did you hear what I said?" The Theodore standing in front of you jerks you back to the present.

You blink, and you nearly drop your fork.

"I heard you," you say firmly, returning your attention back to the half-eaten plate in front of you. You make yourself look busy and uncaring (as much as you could with food and a full stomach), as if Theodore's sudden presence had no effect on you.

Theodore shifts in his spot, his eyes darting to the empty seat in front of you, silently contemplating whether he should take it or cut his losses and leave. Reluctantly, he settles on the former. This makes you tense, your lips pursing as he sits. It doesn't help that you were highly attentive to the whispers; your classmates were surely speculating why Theodore Nott would be choosing the company of a muggle-born on Christmas Eve. You put down your fork, bring your gaze to his, and let out an exhausted breath.

"Nott, what do you want?"

Hearing his last name from you makes his jaw clench. It was cold and formal, stripped of any history you two shared.

"Just wanted to know if you were as happy as you looked."

"You have no right to that type of information anymore."

"Humour me."

You glare at him. Theodore looks back at you with such shy tenderness that your gaze softens slightly.

Am I happy? you think.

Some days, sure. But most days, you find yourself wandering back to that dreadful night in September. Even after all these months, you still wonder if you had just said something different or fought back instead of taking it, maybe you and Theo would still be together.

It was why Ginny, the only poor soul who was aware of your relationship with Theo, had set you up with Michael Corner, a cute Ravenclaw boy in your year. He was smart, funny, and occasionally sweet, but he wasn't Theodore Nott.

Still, you persisted. You allowed yourself to indulge in the idea of being with Michael because the brooding Slytherin boy who had your heart had made his choice. You went on a few dates with Michael; he'd walk you to class, sit with you during Quidditch matches, and sometimes—when he was feeling courageous—he'd plant a kiss on your lips in the middle of the bustling corridor.

"I am." You lie, and you bite down on the insides of your cheeks. What good would it do to admit you weren't, especially to the cause of your turmoil?

Theodore watches you, practically analyzing your features. He doesn't have to say anything for you to know he didn't believe you, and you hated that—hated him, for having been so attentive to you that your tells were obvious.

"You are?" Theodore questions.

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

"I think you and I have a habit of saying things we don't mean."

His careful words and wistful gaze make you flush with embarrassment and anger. To this day, you still weren't sure why Theo had broken things off with you, and it was something that had kept you up countless nights. Through gritted teeth and cheeks stinging with remembered hurt, you say, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Theodore starts, his eyes flickering around to ensure no one was listening in. While a few lingering glances were sent your way, everyone was spread out far enough that it'd be hard to eavesdrop. He drops his voice anyway. "I shouldn't have said what I did that night. I didn't mean it. I don't mean it."

The anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach erupts, your eyes blazing. "Is this some sick game to you? It's been three months, Theodore. I spent three months crying over you and wondering what the hell I did to you to be so bloody cruel. And now when I'm finally ready to move on from you, you come back to tell me you... you didn't mean it?" The last words leave a dirty, salty taste in your mouth.

"No, no," Theodore shakes his head, swallowing thickly as you recounted the months of hell. He hadn't been doing any better either, but Theo was generally good at hiding his afflictions. Numbing the pain with weed and alcohol were among his favourite remedies. "It's not a game. It was never a game. You should know me well enough to know that I would never mean any of the things I said."

"Know you?" You almost laugh. You had replayed the breakup and the weeks leading up to it in your mind countless times, trying to make sense of the bullshit non-reason he had given when he broke up with you but nothing made sense. The whole thing made you spiral, questioning everything that had ever happened between you two. "I'm actually convinced I never really knew you, because the guy I knew would never have done that to me."

Having had enough of the conversation, you get up, leaving your half-eaten plate and a pained Theodore at the Gryffindor table. You're almost past the door of the Great Hall when Theo, as a last-ditch effort, grabs a hold of your wrist, hauling you to a stop. You let out a small huff and turn to face him.

"Meet me in the Astronomy Tower after dark." Theodore says softly, almost pleadingly. He makes a conscious effort to ignore all the prying eyes that turned.

"Because that worked out so well for me last time."

"Just—please. If you want to continue never speaking to each other again after that, then fine. But at least let me explain."

You had every intention of ignoring Theodore’s request. He didn’t deserve a chance to explain—the statute of limitations for explaining ended months ago. And yet, you found yourself sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room and up to the Astronomy Tower, inebriated by the countless what-ifs and string of memories: Theo sneaking a kiss on your lips as everyone turned to view whatever Hagrid had for Care of Magical Creatures, Theo resting his hand on your thigh during potions, Theo winking at you as you watched him play Quidditch.

“You’re here.” Theodore says, just as you reach the top of the staircase. He was sitting by the railing.

“I am,” you say as you walk toward him reluctantly. You settle next to him.

Theodore looks at you, and it looks like he’s about to say something, but then he shuts his eyes, shakes his head, and sighs.

You’ve never seen him at a loss for words. He was intentionally silent, sure, but his quick wit never failed him.

“I’ve regretted that night every day, you know.” He speaks up, his solemn eyes trained on yours. “I replay it over and over.”

Theodore’s gaze is unrelenting, brimming with seriousness and a vulnerability that you haven’t seen before. You tear your gaze away from his because the more he talks and looks at you like this, the more you find it hard to breathe.

“Then why do it? Why say those things?” You manage to ask.

Theodore’s jaw clenches. “Lesser of two evils.”

When you look at him with a confused expression, he continues, “It was better to lose you on those terms than to lose you completely.”

Silence falls on both of you, filling the space like a thick fog.

“I lost my mom when I was seven.” Theodore explains, his eyes darkening. “A freak accident.”

Out of the year you and Theo dated in secret, he had rarely mentioned his mom. And if he did, it was small tidbits—precious memories. Regardless of how small and insignificant the memory would seem to others, you gathered how important Theo’s mom was to him. Underneath Theo’s stoic expressions and calculating demeanour was a softness to Theo that could only be accredited to his mom.

“She got caught in the crossfire between some death eaters.” Theodore says, his expression pained. He drops his gaze now, but you keep your eyes on him. There’s a mixture of grief and anger that flashes across his features, and it takes everything in you to hold yourself back from reaching for him. To comfort him.

“It took me years to get over it. I don’t even think I am yet—I’m still angry at my father for allowing this shit into our lives and for continuing to do it.” Theodore says, letting out an exasperated breath. You knew what everyone else knew about Theo’s father—he was a blood purist, rumoured to be loyal to you-know-who. He’d hate you the moment he’d find out you were muggle-born.

Theo meets your gaze now, and it’s your turn to feel winded. It was like you were looking at your Theo again. The sweet, sarcastic, pain-in-your-ass-but-in-a-good-way Theo. “I lost my mom, who meant the world to me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I lost you too. So I pushed you away. I figured it was best to cut our losses before I pulled you into something you had no reason being in. Before I lost you permanently.”

“What’s changed?” You ask, shaking your head. His words were hard to process, but the pieces of the last few months were beginning to click into place. “I’m still me, and last I heard, your dad was still your dad.”

“I realized that, in a way, I was kind of like my dad.”

“What?”

“I mean,” Theo says. “My dad never gave any of us a choice. Not me, and not my mom. We always had to go along with him and deal with the consequences of his actions. I took a choice away from you, and you just had to deal with it. I don’t want to do that anymore. I still think I did it for the right reasons, but I regret it. I want to be with you. I should have told you what I was worried about—told you about the risks of being with me, so we could make a decision together.”

Together.

That’s all you wanted. You were more than willing to have dealt with any obstacle that was thrown your way, so long as you had Theo by your side.

But that was three months ago. And while his words brought goosebumps, butterflies, and heart palpitations, they also brought a slew of conflicting feelings. You understood why he broke things off now, and although his reasoning was well-intended, it didn’t excuse the fact that you had spent the last three months in a state of despair and heartbreak. You didn’t eat as much, your grades dropped, and you couldn’t even look at him until recently in fear of tears and the overwhelming rush of memories.

“So?”

“Theo,” you say softly. Your eyes search his face.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips at the sound of his name. Not Theodore, not Nott. Theo.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He exhales sharply at your response, and his expression shifts as he turns to face the horizon. He wanted you to say it was worth the risk and that you wanted to be with him as much as he did. He wanted you to forgive him for what he did to you. “It’s fine.”

“No—I just... I need to think.” You say quickly. Your heart was screaming for him, but your brain was weary. And if the past three months taught you anything, it was that you needed to act with your brain and not your heart. “I just need time. This was a lot to process.”

“Right, of course.” Theo says with a curt nod. He turns to you again, offering a weak smile. It was his heart’s turn to break. “Well, thanks for coming tonight and letting me explain. I guess, just let me know.”

You watch him stand, brush the dirt off his robes, and turn away. Just as he reaches the staircase back down, he looks back at you. Your eyes catch his gorgeous arctic eyes, your cheeks burning and your heart racing.

"Merry Christmas, by the way." Theo says before he descends down the stairs.

[unclewaynemunson]

“I need to tell you something.”

Shitfuckno. Eddie doesn't even know why he's still surprised. This is how it always goes, after all. He should probably just give up and stop dating altogether – again.

Steve looks at him exactly as ominously as the words I need to tell you something require. Perfect Steve. Funny Steve. Sweet Steve. Sexy Steve. Steve, who Eddie had genuinely believed to be different.

Eddie sighs, barely suppressing a dark chuckle while he turns away from that perfect face. He doesn't want to look at Steve when he'll tell him the undoubtedly messed-up shit he's about to spill.

“Lemme guess, you're married?” That was what the last guy he dated told him, seven months after they got to know each other. It can't be much worse than that, can it?

Steve grabs Eddie's hand, causing him to involuntarily jerk up his head and meet his eyes.

“How did you know?”

Jesus H. Christ. Not again.

Eddie roughly pulls his hand out of Steve's grip and laughs a joyless laugh.

“Apparently I'm a good guesser.”

He stands up from the park bench the two of them had been sharing. “Well, Steve, this has been a blast. You should go back to your wife, or husband – don't tell me, I don't even wanna know – and I should um, get going. Maybe tell the next person right away what they'll be getting themselves into. Would save them a lot of wasted time, just in case cheating and going around other people's backs isn't really their thing, y'know.”

“Eddie, wait, let me explain!”

Eddie picks up his pace, but Steve, stubborn as he is, easily keeps up with him.

“I'm really not interested, man.”

“It's not – I'm not cheating on her!”

“Okay, so you have an open marriage, good for you. Still the kind of information you could've shared with me, say, three months ago, don't you think?”

“She's a lesbian.”

And that makes Eddie freeze on the spot. It takes Steve two steps before he realizes Eddie has stopped moving; he walks backwards until he's standing right in front of Eddie.

“She's my best friend,” he says, immediately using Eddie's stunned silence to his advantage. “Robin, my roommate – I told you all about her. We wanted to buy a house together and that turned out to be very complicated when you're not... Well, when you're not romantically involved. So we got married. For the, um, practical reasons. We never – we're like siblings. I love her like a sister. But she's also my wife. Platonically.”

It takes a few seconds until Steve's words sink in. Then, Eddie leaps forward and basically collapses into Steve's arms, needing to hold onto him to prevent himself from crashing to the ground.

Steve's arms are warm, strong, and as safe as ever.

“Eddie, are you okay?” Steve asks softly. His lips brush against Eddie's ear while he speaks, and worry colors his voice.

Perfect Steve. Too-good-to-be-true Steve.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” is the only thing Eddie manages to say.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” Steve says. “It's just – I've gotten some, um... Less than ideal reactions, in the past, whenever I told this when I was seeing someone. So I thought it'd be better to wait until things were getting serious.” He sighs, tangling his fingers in Eddie's hair. “I didn't wanna scare you off. Are we – are you okay?”

Eddie nods. He lifts his head from where it's resting against Steve's shoulder and raises his hands to squeeze them around Steve's face.

“We're okay,” he says. “And I'm sorry I didn't want to listen to you. I–” He stops; he can't find the words right away. It's still difficult to talk about those things; to let himself be vulnerable. But Steve has been honest with him, so it's only fair to return the favor.

“I've been hurt, Steve,” he confesses. “More than once. I've had some really shitty experiences with dudes not being honest with me. I thought that that was what was happening again, and I couldn't – I couldn't go through that again. Especially not with you.”

“Jesus, Eddie, I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay,” Eddie rushes to say, pulling Steve even closer towards him. “I trust you.” And as soon as these words leave his mouth, he knows it's the truth.

“I do want to be absolutely clear about one thing, though,” Steve says.

Eddie leans back in Steve's arms to give him an expectant look.

“Robin is my wife. I'm not planning on that to change anytime soon. We've been through a lot together. She's been the most important person in my life for years. We own a house and a dog together, and I love her more than anything. I like you a lot, and I promise you I'm all-in with you, but... Robin is still my number one. And that's not gonna change overnight. I need you to be okay with that.”

Eddie swallows. He looks into Steve's eyes. All he sees is a man who is honest, who loves his friends deeply, and who refuses to make any compromises when it comes to love – whether it be the platonic or the romantic kind.

It doesn't scare Eddie off; it only makes him fonder of Steve.

He smiles, glances around to check if they're alone, and presses a quick kiss against Steve's lips.

“I think I can live with that,” he says. “As long as I'm the only one who gets to do this.” He closes his eyes and lets his lips meet Steve's again.

The sigh that Steve breathes into their tentative kiss is one filled with relief.

[mononijikayu]

supersonic — gojo satoru.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?” You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?” He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?” “......I’m sorry, what?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: General Rating, SFW, Romance, Fluff, Humour, Comfort/No Hurt, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Sorcerer! Reader, Tsundere! Reader, Feelings, Romantic Confession, Getting Together, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Happy Ending, Gojo Satoru Loves Reader But Reader Doesn't Know How to React;

Words: 8k words.

Note: the bubble words is gojo saying you shouldn't fall hard for him!!! i didn't think this would be longer than 5k but I just??? i swear someone has to tell me not to make stuff longer because i feel bad that its way too long and people just suffer my yapping </3 anyway, i love you all!!! thank you so much for reading once again <3

masterlist

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE GOOD MEMORY. You often boasted to Atsuya about your memory, especially during exam season or when the two of you had to write detailed reports after every mission. It was a point of pride—being able to recall every detail with sharp accuracy, a skill that set you apart.

But lately, that once-reliable memory has been betraying you, twisting itself into something both frustrating and bittersweet. Because now, instead of recalling battle strategies or obscure curses, you find yourself remembering everything about him. Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you try to push the memories away, they persist, etched into your mind like an indelible mark. It’s infuriating because he’s the last person you want to think about. Yet, there he is, popping into your thoughts when you least expect it, with that smug grin and irritatingly carefree attitude.

You can’t forget that day during the Sister School Goodwill Event in your first year. It’s impossible. That was the first time you met Gojo Satoru, and even now, the memory of it lingers like a stubborn shadow. He was everything you couldn’t stand—arrogant, always grinning like he knew something you didn’t, and constantly cracking jokes that got under your skin. The moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was in trouble.

He’d waltzed into the event with an air of confidence that bordered on cocky, his white hair catching the sunlight as if to announce his presence to the world. You remember the way his sunglasses glinted as he surveyed the arena, looking completely at ease, like he owned the place.

And maybe, in a way, he did—after all, his reputation had preceded him. The strongest sorcerer of his generation, a prodigy unlike any other. Everyone was talking about him, and you had been curious, but when you finally met him, that curiosity quickly morphed into annoyance.

It wasn’t just his arrogance; it was the way he seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to push your buttons, like he had a map of your every weakness. From the moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was trouble.

He didn’t even bother with formalities, didn’t extend his hand or offer a respectful bow like any normal person might when meeting someone new. No, Gojo Satoru made his grand entrance with all the subtlety of a peacock in full display.

“Hey there, I’m Gojo Satoru. Don't fall in love with me too much, okay?” he said, his tone so light and casual it was as if he was talking about the weather. 

And then came that wink—oh, that infuriating wink. It was the kind of wink that dripped with self-assurance, as if he’d already decided that the world, including you, was his playground. The kind that made your blood pressure spike and your temper flare in an instant.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you glared at him, eyes narrowing into a scowl that you hoped would convey just how unimpressed you were. But if you expected him to back down, to maybe realize that he’d crossed a line, you were sorely mistaken. Gojo didn’t just take your scowl in stride—he laughed, a sound that was as easy and carefree as everything else about him. 

The laughter caught you off guard. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t exactly kind either. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear he was enjoying this, enjoying you. It was like he’d found a new toy to play with, and your irritation only made it more fun for him.

“Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that.” he’d said, still chuckling. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. We’re supposed to be having fun with this, right? No need to be so serious.”

But you were serious—deadly so. This wasn’t some lighthearted game to you; it was a competition, a test of skills and strength, something you’d been training for relentlessly. The Sister School Goodwill Event was your chance to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t just some novice from Kyoto who could be easily brushed aside. And here was Gojo Satoru, with his casual grin and infuriatingly relaxed demeanor, treating the whole thing like a joke.

Yet no matter how much you glared, or how much you tried to put him in his place with your icy demeanor, it seemed to only amuse him more. He had this way of tilting his head just so, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he were daring you to say something, to try and put him in his place. But what could you say? Anything that came to mind seemed to bounce off him like water off a duck’s back. He was untouchable, not just in skill but in personality.

And that’s what really got to you. The way he seemed to glide through life without a care, untouched by the things that would have sent anyone else into a spiral of self-doubt. He was arrogant, yes, but it was the kind of arrogance that was infuriatingly earned. He knew he was good—no, he knew he was the best—and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

As the day went on, you found yourself trying not to react to his constant quips and jabs, but it was like trying to ignore a particularly persistent mosquito. The more you tried to brush him off, the more determined he seemed to get a rise out of you. And the worst part was, he was succeeding. Every time you shot him a glare or bit back a retort, he’d just laugh that infuriating laugh, as if to say, “See? I knew I’d get to you.”

It was like he could see right through you, past the carefully constructed walls you’d built to keep people at a distance. He saw how much you cared, how much you wanted to succeed, and he poked at that vulnerability with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Not because he was cruel, but because he found it entertaining.

And that’s what made him so insufferable. He wasn’t just some cocky sorcerer throwing his weight around—he was someone who enjoyed getting under your skin, who relished in the challenge of breaking down your defenses. To him, it was all a game, and you were the unwitting participant. 

Looking back now, you can almost see the moment he decided you were worth his attention. It wasn’t when you scowled at him or tried to brush off his comments; it was when he realized that no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn’t hide the way he got to you. And from that moment on, it was as if he’d made it his personal mission to see just how far he could push you.

He was everything you couldn’t stand in a person—arrogant, overconfident, and far too comfortable with himself. But even then, there was a part of you that knew there was more to him than just that. A part of you that recognized that behind the jokes and the winks, there was someone who saw the world in a way you didn’t quite understand, someone who, for better or worse, was going to be a part of your life whether you liked it or not.

That was the beginning of your tumultuous relationship with Gojo. Every interaction since then had been a battle of wits, with him always managing to get the upper hand, no matter how hard you tried to stay one step ahead. He was insufferable, and yet… you can’t stop thinking about him.

You remember how Gojo had effortlessly dodged your attacks during that time. He was skilled and perceptive. It wasn’t just that he was fast—he moved with a fluidity that made it seem as though he was dancing rather than fighting.

Each time you lunged at him, he sidestepped or spun away with an ease that was almost maddening. His grin never faltered, never wavered. It was as if he were enjoying the entire spectacle, completely unfazed by your every attempt to land a hit.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunted, his voice carrying a casual amusement that only fueled your frustration.

The way he said it, so nonchalant and dismissive, made it clear he wasn’t just teasing—you were genuinely failing to impress him. It wasn’t just a challenge to him; it was a game. And for someone like Gojo, who seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, the stakes felt almost trivial.

What made it even more infuriating was the way he seemed to almost predict your every move. No matter how you changed your strategy, how you tried to outthink him, he was always one step ahead. It was as if he had a sixth sense for reading your intentions, a talent that made him appear almost supernatural. Every dodge, every counter, was executed with a precision that left no room for error.

In that moment, it felt as though the fight wasn’t just about physical skill—it was a battle of wills. You were pouring everything you had into trying to best him, to prove that you were more than just a novice from Kyoto. But Gojo’s demeanor, his seemingly effortless ability to avoid and counter your attacks, made it feel as though you were trying to fight against an immovable force.

It wasn’t just that he was good; it was the way he made it look so easy. It was like watching someone play a video game on the easiest difficulty setting while you were struggling on the hardest. His ease in the face of your best efforts was both impressive and infuriating. It was clear he was toying with you, not out of malice but because he genuinely enjoyed the challenge, however mild it might have been for him.

Every time you threw a punch or unleashed a spell, his reaction was a mix of amusement and mild surprise. It wasn’t as if he underestimated you—he knew exactly what you were capable of, and he relished the chance to outmaneuver you. His grin was a constant reminder that he was having fun, that he wasn’t taking this seriously because he didn’t have to. For him, it was all just another day, another opportunity to show off his skills.

“You’re strong!” He tells you with a grin on his face. “Let’s be friends! Give me your phone number, quick!”

"Huh?"

"Hurry, bring out your flip phone already!"

"We're in the middle of a one on one, you idiot!"

"So? I wanna be your friend!"

And that was what made him so exasperating. The whole event felt like it was being played out on his terms, with him in control of every aspect. To him, it was less about proving himself and more about showing just how superior he was in a way that made it almost seem effortless. The arrogance wasn’t just in his words; it was in every action, every movement that demonstrated his dominance.

For you, the fight was a matter of pride, a chance to show that you were more than capable, that you could stand toe-to-toe with someone of his caliber. But every time you saw that grin, every time you heard that taunting voice, it drove home the fact that no matter what you did, you were always going to be playing catch-up. And the more you tried, the more it seemed like you were just feeding into his amusement.

The whole experience left you feeling both frustrated and oddly impressed. Frustrated because you couldn’t seem to catch him, no matter how hard you tried. Impressed because, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but admire his skill and confidence. It was a bittersweet combination of emotions, one that made you both present and respect him in equal measure. And as much as you wanted to forget that day, Gojo’s presence in your mind remained an ever-present reminder of the challenge he represented—and the way he seemed to effortlessly stay one step ahead.

But what bothers you the most is how, despite all of his flaws, there’s something about him that draws you in. No matter how hard you try to deny it, those memories of him, those moments where he’d flash you that grin or make a ridiculous joke, are seared into your mind.

You find yourself remembering the smallest details—the way his voice sounded when he teased you, the warmth of his hand when he’d casually patted your shoulder after a mission, the way his eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses, seemed to see right through you.

It’s maddening because you’ve spent so much time trying to forget, trying to focus on anything but him. But no matter what you do, the memories remain, vivid and persistent. And it leaves you wondering, despite everything, why you can’t just let go. Why, after all this time, you’re still thinking about Gojo Satoru.

Back then, when you first met Gojo Satoru during the Sister School Goodwill Event, you had quickly dismissed him as just another arrogant brat who seemed to have the world handed to him on a silver platter. His cocky attitude, the way he flaunted his abilities, and his effortless charm made it all too easy to write him off.

To you, he was nothing more than a figure of annoyance—a sorcerer who, with his overconfidence and privileged position, would never be someone you’d get along with. It seemed clear from the start that your paths would never truly align.

Fast forward to the summer break of that year, and you find yourself face-to-face with him again. The sun blazes overhead, turning every outdoor spot into a sweltering inferno.

You're trying to navigate the heat while staying cool, but Gojo Satoru appears as if the oppressive temperature doesn’t affect him at all. His white hair seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and he’s wearing his trademark sunglasses, the kind that makes him look perpetually unbothered.

You’re waiting in line at a smoothie stand, desperately trying to cool down with a cone in hand. You were fanning yourself, trying to evade the intensity of the strong Kyoto sun. That’s when he shows up, casually strolling towards you with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey there, struggling to beat the heat?” Gojo calls out, his tone light and teasing. 

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for his games. “It’s scorching out here, Gojo. Not exactly the time for you to be playing your little tricks.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just here to offer some company. Can’t have you melting away all alone, can I?”

You try to ignore him, focusing on your drink as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Gojo isn’t deterred. He follows you as you leave the stand, his presence like an unwelcome shadow. “So, where are you headed next? I hear there’s a nice little café down the street. We could cool off there.”

“I’m not interested, Gojo.” you snap, quickening your pace.

“Are you sure?” he persists, easily matching your stride. “It’s not every day you get to hang out with the strongest sorcerer in town. I promise I won’t bite.”

You shoot him a skeptical glance. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he grins. “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some company. Besides, I’m a great conversationalist. You might even enjoy it.”

Despite yourself, you find his persistence a bit endearing. You sigh, finally relenting. “Fine. One quick stop at the café, and then you leave me alone.”

“Deal!” Gojo exclaims, his grin widening. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

At the café, as you sit across from him, the air conditioning feels like a blessing. Gojo Satoru is still as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair with that same self-assured smirk. “See? Much better, right?”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, this is definitely better. But don’t think this means I’m going to start liking you or anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, captain!” Gojo says, his tone playful. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not melting away into a puddle of frustration.”

As the conversation flows, his teasing starts to feel less like an annoyance and more like genuine fun. He talks about his latest adventures, exaggerates stories in his usual dramatic fashion, and even shares some surprisingly insightful observations about the work you both do. Somehow, he manages to not get on your nerves today.

“You know,” he says between bites of his own ice cream, “for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to enjoy spending time with me right now.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just making the best of a bad situation.”

“Well, I’d like to think it’s more than that.” Gojo says with a wink. “Maybe you’re starting to see that I’m not just a cocky brat. Maybe I’m actually kind of fun.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gojo.” you warn, though you’re smiling. “This doesn’t change anything. I still think you’re incredibly annoying.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Gojo chuckles. “But I’ll take that as a win for now. Maybe one day, I’ll get you to admit that I’m not so bad after all.”

As you finish up your meal, you reflect on how different this encounter is from your first meeting. The arrogance is still there, but it’s mixed with a kind of charm that’s hard to ignore. Despite yourself, you find that you’re enjoying his company, and maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than the cocky façade he puts on.

By the end of the day, as you part ways, you can’t shake the feeling that this summer break—this unexpected reunion—might just be the start of something different. Gojo’s persistence has managed to chip away at your defenses, and you’re left wondering if there’s more to this irritating sorcerer than meets the eye.

You tell yourself he’s still as annoying as ever, but your heart betrays you, pounding in your chest whenever he’s near. You don’t understand why, but you can't help but feel drawn to him. Every time you think of how he made you laugh when you least expected it, or how his confidence seemed to shield you from the world, your feelings get more confusing.

Is it possible that the guy who irritates you so much is the same one who’s now making your heart race? You can’t figure it out, but one thing’s for sure—something has changed, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You try to shake it off, convincing yourself it’s just the heat messing with your mind. After all, why would you like someone like Gojo Satoru? 

He’s arrogant, overconfident, and never takes anything seriously. But then, you remember how, during that first encounter, he didn’t just laugh at you—he noticed things. Little things. Like how you tried to stay strong even when you were clearly out of your comfort zone, or how you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the event but never gave up.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that he’s just good at reading people. Yet, the memory of his voice, the way he looked at you with those sharp eyes hidden behind his glasses, keeps replaying in your mind. The more you think about it, the harder it becomes to deny what you’re feeling.

It’s frustrating. You’re not supposed to like someone who drives you crazy, who makes you question everything about yourself. But here you are, your heart beating faster every time you think of him, and that infuriating smirk of his. Why did he have to be so… so irritatingly charming?

You find yourself wondering what it would be like to see him again, to have him tease you just so you can feel that strange flutter in your chest. But then, you immediately scold yourself for even thinking that way. There’s no way you could actually like him… right?

But deep down, you know the truth. No matter how much you try to deny it, the thought of Gojo Satoru won’t leave your mind. And with each passing day, the line between irritation and affection blurs just a little bit more. Yet you can’t do much about it. One way or another, somehow—you were just stuck with him being around. In Kyoto or Tokyo, or everywhere else. He’s just somehow always round. 

Months passed by, and it was summer again.

You’re sitting with Shoko Ieiri under the shade of a tree, fanning yourself with a hand to combat the relentless summer heat. It’s one of those rare, blissful afternoons where you’ve managed to carve out some free time. With Utahime-senpai occupied with a mission from Gakuganji and no assignments on your plate, you decided to take advantage of the break to catch up with Shoko. The two of you have become quite good friends over time, and her presence is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. And you think that even under this hot summer this year, you’ll end up becoming better friends.

Shoko leans back against the tree, her posture relaxed as she takes a sip from her drink. She listens with a wry smile as you continue your tirade. You’ve been going on about Gojo Satoru for what feels like hours now, pouring out your frustrations about how annoying and insufferable he is.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Shoko. He just—ugh! He keeps showing up everywhere I go! It’s like he has a personal vendetta to make my life miserable.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, her smile barely containing the amusement she’s clearly feeling. “And yet, you don’t seem to be able to stop talking about him.”

“That’s because he’s impossible to ignore!” you exclaim, waving your fan more vigorously. “He’s always so… so smug! Always grinning like he’s got some big secret. I can’t stand it!”

Shoko chuckles, taking another sip of her drink. “You know, the way you’re describing him, it almost sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush.”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “A crush? Are you kidding me? I can’t stand him! He’s arrogant and insufferable. There’s no way I’d ever—”

Shoko cuts you off with a knowing look. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly normal to be irritated by someone you’re secretly interested in. You’re practically obsessed with him.”

“I am not!” you insist, your face turning a shade redder as you realize how ridiculous you must sound. “I’m just... venting! He’s always there, poking at my patience, and it drives me insane!”

“Uh-huh.” Shoko says, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “And yet, you’ve been ranting about him for an hour now. You don’t do that with just anyone.”

You huff, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s because he’s a special kind of irritating. There’s nothing romantic about it, Shoko. It’s purely aggravation!”

Shoko leans in, her expression teasing. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But if you don’t want to talk about Gojo, maybe we should switch topics.”

Before you can respond, a familiar voice calls out from behind you. “Hey, I didn’t realize I’d find you here.”

You turn to see Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes him look even more infuriatingly cool. Beside him was Geto Suguru, who had a face that reflected yours. He was, you supposed, as done as you were with the man with bright cerulean eyes. You purse your lips. He’s grinning, that same smirk plastered across his face as he casually approaches.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, trying to keep your irritation in check. “This is a private conversation, Gojo. Leave us alone.”

“Yeah, Satoru.” Geto parrotted back, his hands in his pockets. “Leave them alone!”

Gojo just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “How cold! I was just passing by and thought I’d say hello. But it seems like I’m interrupting something. Were you talking about me?”

Shoko suppresses a grin behind her drink as you try to regain your composure. “No, we were just—”

As Gojo stands there, still grinning, Shoko decides to have a little fun. She leans in, looking as though she’s about to share a juicy secret. “Actually, I was just telling her how annoying you are,” she interjects with a playful nudge. “In detail too. Nothing was held back.”

Gojo’s smirk only widens, clearly amused by Shoko’s teasing. Before he can respond, Geto Suguru—who has been hovering just out of sight—steps into view. He’s carrying a large bag of sweets and looks somewhat frazzled, his usual cool demeanor slightly ruffled. He looked so worn out, you think. Much too much heat and Gojo, you feel for the guy.

“Honestly, you should have called me. Geto says with a grin, eyeing both you and Shoko. “I have a lot more to share about this freak.”

You turn to Geto, eyes wide in surprise. “What did you just call him?”

“HUH!? Suguboo, how dare you call me a freak?” Gojo’s voice rises in mock outrage, his face turning into an exaggerated scowl.

Geto rolls his eyes, clearly unbothered by Gojo’s antics. “You dragged me around Tokyo to buy sweets all day. I can’t feel my body anymore.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild exasperation. “You’re currently not on my good side.”

Gojo throws a hand up in dramatic defense. “Hey, I had to make sure you didn’t miss out on the best sweets Tokyo has to offer! It’s not my fault if you overindulge.”

Geto shakes his head, still grumbling. “I’m pretty sure it was more than just overindulgence. I was about ready to collapse by the end of it.”

Shoko laughs, thoroughly enjoying the banter. “See, you’re not the only one who has complaints about Gojo. Even Geto here has his grievances.”

You look from Shoko to Gojo and then to Geto, feeling a mix of amusement and relief. The dynamic between the three of them is light and playful, and it’s clear that there’s a strong sense of camaraderie, despite the occasional grumbling.

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my irritation,” you say, letting out a small chuckle.

Gojo’s grin turns into a more genuine smile as he turns to you. “Hey, don’t be too hard on me. If I’m really that annoying, at least I’m entertaining.”

Geto snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Entertaining or not, you owe me for today. We’re going to need a serious dessert break after all that.”

You nod in agreement, feeling more at ease with the situation. “Agreed. And Gojo, don’t think you’re off the hook just because you showed up here. I’m still not happy about you popping up everywhere I go. You’re so annoying!”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Annoying, huh? Well, I guess that’s one way to describe me. But if I’m annoying, why do you keep bringing me up?”

You groan, feeling the heat on your face increase, whether from the sun or from embarrassment you can’t tell. You didn’t want to know.  “Oh, just go away. We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you showed up.”

Gojo chuckles and leans casually against the tree. “Well, I was hoping you might invite me to join you. But if I’m that annoying, I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m not.”

Shoko looks between you and Gojo, clearly enjoying the scene. “You know, it’s kind of nice to see you two together. It’s like watching a rom–com soap opera, but with crazy strong superpowers.”

You shoot Shoko a mock glare, though it's clear you’re not truly upset. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to look annoyed. “Thanks for your support, Shoko.”

Suguru Geto, still holding the bag of sweets, grins broadly. “Shoko, you and your talent for fueling fires. I swear, you live for this kind of chaos.”

Shoko, not missing a beat, gives an exaggerated bow. “Anytime, folks. I’m here for your entertainment. It’s my specialty, after all.”

Geto chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you enjoy stirring up trouble more than actually helping out.”

“Maybe,” Shoko admits with a playful glint in her eye. “But where’s the fun in being boring?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange. It’s moments like these, filled with light-hearted teasing and genuine friendship, that make summer breaks so enjoyable. The heat of the day, the annoyances of the past, and even the unexpected encounters with Gojo seem to fade into the background as you relax with friends who make even the most mundane moments entertaining.

“Well…..” you say, still smiling, “if I have to deal with more of Gojo’s antics, I’m glad I have you two around. It definitely makes the experience more bearable.”

Shoko grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We aim to please. Just remember, if Gojo starts getting on your nerves again, you know where to find us.”

“Absolutely.” Geto adds, lifting the bag of sweets in a mock salute. “And if you need more sweets to get through it, I’ll be your guy. Though, I can’t promise I won’t complain about it.”

“Oh, Suguru! There’s a Digimon-themed café nearby!” Gojo exclaims, excitement clear in his voice as he checks his flip phone. His eyes are practically sparkling with enthusiasm as he waves the phone in front of Suguru and you.

Suguru Geto, clearly exhausted from the earlier sweet spree and the relentless summer heat, groans. “Hehhhh, I don’t wanna go anymore, Satoru. I’m tired.”

Gojo, however, is undeterred by Suguru’s reluctance. He leans in, practically vibrating with eagerness. “Suguru, please! You can sit down throughout while I do my thing. They have card trades going on there right now! You know how rare those are.”

Suguru looks at Gojo with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Card trades? Really? Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

“Yes!” Gojo says, his voice rising with a mixture of pleading and excitement. “I’ve been looking for a specific card for ages. This is my chance!”

You watch the interaction with a smirk, enjoying the dynamic between the two. Suguru’s exhaustion is palpable, but Gojo’s enthusiasm is infectious. It’s clear that Gojo is determined to drag Suguru along, no matter how tired he is.

“Come on, Suguru!” Gojo continues, his tone softening as he tries to appeal to Suguru’s better nature. “Just a little while. You can rest while I geek out over the Digimon stuff. And there’s bound to be something good for you too, right? Maybe a nice, cool drink or something.”

Suguru sighs, clearly defeated but not entirely unmoved. “Alright, alright. But if this turns into another full day of Gojo dragging me around, I swear I’m going to collapse.”

“Deal!” Gojo says, beaming with satisfaction. “I promise we’ll keep it short. Just a quick visit, then we can head back. I owe you one, for real.”

Shoko could only sigh as though this is the hundredth time today. “Looks like we’re going to a cafe.”

“How do you deal with this everyday, Shoko?”

She shakes her head. “Believe me, you do not wanna know.”

As the four of you make your way to the café, you can’t help but chuckle at the contrast between Gojo’s boundless energy and Suguru’s weary resignation. It’s moments like these that highlight the unique blend of personalities and friendships that make summer days so memorable.

When you finally arrive at the Digimon-themed café, the atmosphere is lively, with colorful decorations and enthusiastic fans trading cards and chatting about their favorite characters. Gojo is immediately in his element, diving into the card trades with a fervor that makes you smile. 

Suguru, though still looking a bit tired, finds a comfortable spot to sit and relax, occasionally glancing over at Gojo with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Shojo sat beside you, sipping her cold peach iced tea. For a moment, the three of you look at Gojo and think he seems almost like a child.

“You’re a trooper, you know that?” you say, handing him a cool drink you picked up from the café. “I don’t know what I would do if Kusakabe dragged me half across town for a Digimon card.”

Suguru takes a sip and smirks. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day you get to see Gojo this excited. I guess it’s worth it. Plus, more excitement for him means he’ll be less active at the dorms tonight and not bother me.”

“That….” You paused. “So he runs out of energy too, huh?”

Suguru nodded. “Well, Satoru is a human being too. He gets tired too.”

“I think I like this version of him better.”

Shoko snickers. “You sure you don’t like him?”

“Now, now. Don’t scare them away, Sho.” Suguru smiles back at his friend. “If anything, they might be the last shot for Satoru to be a human being. After all, love makes one completely human.”

“B–but that’s not….. I don’t like him like that! He’s annoying and I just….”

“Denial that sounds like absolute lies is wasting Mother Earth’s air, you know?”

You shoot Shoko a playful glare, but your frustration is tempered by an internal chaos that’s increasingly difficult to ignore. Gojo, completely absorbed in his Digimon card quest, is a whirlwind of excitement and enthusiasm. His eyes are locked on the card he’s been wanting, and the moment he finally acquires it, his face lights up with an infectious joy that makes it hard for you to look away.

As Gojo gushes over the card and exchanges high-fives with fellow fans, you’re left sitting at the table with Shoko, trying to make sense of your own turbulent emotions. Your mind feels like a jumbled mess, caught between irritation and a confusing, unwelcome admiration. The way Gojo’s energy radiates around him, how his excitement seems to draw everyone in, including you—it’s all so bewildering.

Every time Gojo moves closer, whether he’s showing off his latest acquisition or simply passing by with that characteristic, carefree swagger, your heart races a little faster. It’s a reaction you can’t quite explain, and no matter how much you want to deny it, it’s becoming increasingly clear that you’re affected by him more than you’d like to admit.

You glance over at Shoko, who’s watching the scene with an amused expression. “How does he do it?” you ask, more to yourself than to her. “How does he make everything seem so... effortless?”

Shoko’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans back in her chair. “Oh, come on. You know exactly how he does it. It’s the same way he manages to get under your skin so easily.”

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the way he gets so wrapped up in things. It’s like nothing else matters to him.”

Shoko chuckles softly. “It’s his passion. It’s what makes him who he is. And it’s probably why you can’t seem to get him out of your mind, even when you try.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I thought I had him all figured out, but every time he’s near, it’s like everything I thought I knew just... unravels.”

Shoko’s grin widens as she takes a sip from her drink. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time sticking to your own rules. Maybe you’re just more affected by him than you want to admit.”

You shoot her another glare, but this time it’s softer, tinged with resignation. “Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out. I really needed the reminder.”

As Gojo returns to your table, holding up his prized card with a triumphant grin, your heart skips a beat. His enthusiasm is undeniable, and despite your internal struggle, you can’t help but be drawn to his infectious energy. He flashes a quick, radiant smile in your direction before turning his attention to Suguru, who’s still looking somewhat worn out but is clearly amused by Gojo’s excitement.

“Look what I got!” Gojo announces, waving the card in front of Suguru and you. “It’s the one I’ve been searching for!”

You try to muster up a response, but the sight of Gojo’s unabashed joy and the warmth of his smile make it difficult to focus on anything else. Your heart continues to beat faster, and despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, it’s becoming increasingly clear that Gojo’s presence has a profound effect on you.

Shoko leans in closer, her voice a soft tease. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting summer. Who knows? Maybe there’s more to this adventure than just the heat.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and acceptance. As Gojo continues to share his excitement with Suguru and the other café patrons, you find yourself caught up in the moment, realizing that no matter how much you try to resist it, Gojo Satoru is undeniably a part of your world now—one you can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard you try.

“I’m craving some ice cream, it’s still too hot.” You muttered under your breath towards Shoko. “I’m going to go and buy some.”

“You want me to go with you?” Shoko asked, looking up towards you. 

You shake your head. “I’ll need some time to think for a bit. Besides, it's just around the corner.”

She nodded back at you. “Okay, then call us when you come back. Gojo might be here a while, the nerd he is.”

“Sure.” You managed to mutter as you walked off.

It didn’t take you long to get to the ice cream store. You settle into a corner booth, hoping the relative solitude will give you a chance to cool down both physically and mentally. The air conditioning provides a much-needed respite from the relentless summer heat, and the cold, creamy sweetness of your ice cream is a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.

Despite the comfort of the cool air and the calming effect of the ice cream, your mind refuses to be at peace. It keeps drifting back to Gojo Satoru—his teasing words, that infuriating grin, and the effortless way he seemed to handle everything while you were left feeling like a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. You replay the scene in your head over and over, each replay adding another layer to your mounting exasperation.

You stab your spoon into the ice cream with a little more force than necessary, your frustration spilling over into the simple act of eating. The satisfying crunch of the spoon hitting the ice cream echoes your internal struggle. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice the door of the shop opening until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“There you are.”

You freeze, spoon halfway to your mouth. Slowly, you look up to see Gojo Satoru standing in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow over your table. He’s got that same easygoing smile on his face, but there’s something different about his expression—something softer, almost hesitant.

“Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“They wanted to stay behind to rest up.”

“....Makes sense. You drained them up from energy.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he steps inside and takes a seat next to you at the small table.

You can’t help but feel a surge of panic mixed with irritation as you watch Gojo settle into the seat next to you. Of all the places in the city, why did he have to find you here, in this tiny ice cream store where you’d sought refuge from the chaos of the day? The familiar flutter in your chest is back, and despite your efforts to remain calm, your heart races as he sits down across from you.

Gojo’s presence feels overwhelming, and the proximity only amplifies your confusion. You can’t seem to reconcile the image of him as the carefree, teasing troublemaker with the more subdued, almost earnest expression he wore earlier. The combination of his unexpected arrival and the emotional turmoil from the day makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds filling the space are the steady hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl of melting ice cream. It’s a stark contrast to the earlier energy of the café and the animated conversations you’d been a part of. Now, the silence feels almost oppressive, adding weight to the tension hanging between you.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the ice cream, but the act of eating feels mechanical, a mere distraction from the growing unease. Each clink of your spoon against the bowl seems louder than it should be, amplifying the silence and making it harder to ignore the pounding of your heart.

Gojo, seemingly unfazed by the silence, takes a casual sip from his own ice cream. His relaxed demeanor is in sharp contrast to your internal turmoil, and it only serves to heighten your frustration. You want to break the silence, to say something that will diffuse the tension and make sense of the situation, but the words elude you.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?”

You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?”

He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?”

“......I’m sorry, what?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you suddenly feel the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the words won’t come out. Instead, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and completely at a loss for what to say.

Gojo’s expression softens, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m not the best at being subtle, I know. But I meant it. I like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in your shock, you try to respond—but instead of words, all that comes out is a choked gasp as you accidentally inhale a spoonful of ice cream.You start coughing, the cold dessert lodged in your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. Gojo’s eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly reaches over to pat your back, trying to help you out. 

“Hey, hey, easy! Are you okay?”

You manage to swallow the ice cream, though your throat still feels cold and tight. Your face is burning with embarrassment, and you can barely bring yourself to look at him. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine… I just… you just…”

Gojo lets out a relieved laugh, though there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shock you that much. I guess I should’ve picked a better time to say it, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and something else you can’t quite identify. The fact that he just confessed, out of nowhere, is overwhelming, to say the least. He waits for you to say something, his usual playful demeanor tempered with genuine concern. 

“I’m serious, though. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s just because I like being around you. You’re fun, and… well, I like you.”

You feel your heart pounding again, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the way he’s looking at you. It’s different from his usual teasing gaze—there’s a sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I…” You struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes out the way you want it to. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles, that playful edge returning just a bit. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But… if it’s too much, I’ll back off.”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of emotions too tangled to sort out. “No, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to figure it all out right now, okay?”

You nod slowly, your mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. As he sits there beside you, holding your hand in his, you realize that despite all the teasing and frustration, there’s something undeniably real about the way he’s looking at you now. Maybe, just maybe, this summer heat isn’t the only thing making your heart race.

Gojo’s hand is warm against yours, and the feeling sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. He’s still looking at you with that playful grin, but there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere.” he says, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But I couldn’t help it. Seeing you all flustered and cute earlier… I just had to tell you how I feel.”

You glance down at your hands, trying to process everything, but all you can focus on is the way his fingers are interlaced with yours. It’s surprisingly comforting, and you find yourself feeling a little less overwhelmed by the situation.

Gojo leans in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “You know, you’re even cuter when you’re flustered. I might have to make it my mission to see that expression on your face more often.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, and you instinctively try to pull your hand away, but Gojo holds on gently, his smile widening. “No escaping this time. You’ve caught my attention, okay?  I’m not letting go so easily.”

You huff, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out more flustered than anything. “You’re such a pain, Gojo.”

“Ah, but I’m your pain, right?” he quips back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I never said that.”

“Well, I’m saying it." he replies, leaning in even closer until you can feel his breath against your cheek. “And I think you secretly like having me around, even if you won’t admit it.”

You’re about to protest, but the words catch in your throat when you see how close he is. His face is only inches from yours, and the playful grin has softened into something more sincere.

“I like being around you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “Even if I drive you crazy sometimes.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something incredibly endearing about seeing Gojo like this—still teasing, but with a softness that makes your heart melt.He pulls back just enough to give you a bit of space, his expression turning thoughtful.

 “You know, I’ve had a lot of people in my life, but no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s different with you… in a good way.”

You blink, taken aback by the honesty in his words. “Really?”

“Really.” he says, his smile warm and genuine. “You’re special to me. And I don’t want to let go of something that feels this right.”

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you forget all the teasing and frustration. All you can think about is how sincere he’s being, how much he actually cares.

Gojo must notice your softened expression because he chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but… would you mind if I tried something?”

You tilt your head, curious. “What?”

Instead of answering right away, he reaches out with his free hand, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, almost hesitant, as if he’s waiting for your reaction. When you don’t pull away, he smiles softly and leans in closer.

“Just wanted to see if you’d let me do this.” he whispers, and before you can respond, he presses a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, while he pulls back, looking pleased with himself “There,” he says with a grin. “Now you can’t say I don’t have feelings for you.”

You finally find your voice, though it comes out more like a squeak. “Y-You… Gojo!”

He laughs, not at all fazed by your reaction. “What? Too much? I thought it was pretty sweet.”

You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the furious blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re impossible!”

Gojo just chuckles and gently pries your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him again. “I might be impossible, but you’re stuck with me now. So… what do you say? Think you could handle having someone like me around a little more?”

You glance at him, and despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re not going to give me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really.” he admits, his grin turning playful again. “But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you can’t ignore. “Fine,” you say, pretending to be reluctant. “But if you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to get back at you.”

Gojo’s eyes light up, and he leans in with a smirk. “Oh, I’m looking forward to that. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

And just like that, the tension melts away, leaving you with a strange sense of contentment. You don’t have everything figured out yet, but with Gojo sitting beside you, still holding your hand, you think maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind figuring it out together.

[jaysgirlx]

living with choso might have just been the best mistake of your entire life. the intended plan was for you to finally get your own place but when you get there the place is in shambles. you got your deposit back when you threatened to get the police involved because the place looked nothing like its pictures.

choso had offered you his spare bedroom time and time again but you couldn't. choso was already such a good friend to you and you just didn't want to impose this on him. but of course, you're not even given a choice to ask him because the moment choso finds out how messed up your new apartment is he's already taken your stuff back to his place.

you're two months in and you realize choso and you had fallen into a pattern. a pattern that you hope won't everbreak. you wake up and choso's already made breakfast for the both of you. he says he's used to it from when he and his brothers used to live together, even though he only makes enough for two.

when you both arrive home from work, you either go out for food or order in and then of course you guys watch movies. "what do you mean you've never seen toy story?!"

"i didn't have much of a childhood, so i haven't seen a lot of movies" he mumbled quiety. for the rest of the night, the two of you had a toy story marathon with tons of snacks (provided by choso of course).

choso knew you loved to snack, so he learned to find your favorites in bulk. anytime you saw you snack on something when you hung out, he would memorize its name so he could buy more. he wanted to make his apartment as comfortable as he could for you. his place was meant to be yours.

sometimes the two of you would fall asleep on the couch together, all cuddled up together. however, it didn't start out like that, at first you would lean on choso's shoulder hoping he wouldn't mind. and eventually, he got annoyed with you just leaning on him and pulled you into his arms. you wanted to protest but you enjoyed it so much that you instead leaned into his body. whenever he'd feel you get comfortable in his arms or his lap he'd whisper "good girl" in your ear. coming from him those words drove you crazy and you wished you could hear them more.

on some nights, after you've both had a long day at work choso tends to carry you back to your room when you fall asleep. he even kisses your forehead and you've caught him doing it and you wish you had the guts to confront him on it so bad but you're happy here. so why risk it?

when choso works late you bring dinner to him and the two of you eat in his office. he always tells you, that you don't have to. that he can bring you dinner instead but when you warn him that you'll nice out he easily shuts up. you guys don't get to watch movies but you do get to talk.

"how's yuji?" you ask him after setting his food on his desk.

"enjoying college life apparently, nobara said they're going to a frat party tonight," he says while chucking.

"do you miss him?"

"why would i miss him when i have you?"

in your mind, there was no way he could've possibly meant that romantically. even after he changed the topic you were still thinking about it, thinking about what he meant and what could be going on in that head of his.

during the weekends, choso spends all his time with you. if you want to go shopping, he pays for everything, buys you lunch, and carries all your bags. he tells you it's in exchange for all the dinners you've bought him even though he's already paid you back for those. and when you get home he helps you try them all and all he can do is compliment you, like you're all his, "these jeans look so fucking good on you, can you only wear them in the apartment? just for me pretty girl?"

and you'd agree to his pleas cause, let's be real you only bought these jeans cause he keep eyeing you in them. and they way he cursed, you knew he wanted you because you felt the exact see way.

maybe living with choso a little longer wouldn't be such a bad idea.

❥ a/n: a little drabble to make up for not posting the college au choso fic yet.

[notherpuppet]

Do you think there's a right and/or wrong way to handle QPR? I know it's a tricky relationship, but it feels like most/some people kind of just slap the label onto a ship while depicting the ship as just romantic/having no difference with a romantic relationship. (this is why I was a little surprised when you said you do radioapple qpr when it reads a lot more like normal romance). Not meant as an attack or anything on anyone, just genuinely curious more than anything. Again, tricky relationship

So Imma put this link to info at the top of this post: https://taaap.org/2022/07/16/qprs-part-one/

Alright, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, because that's exactly what it is. One small bit of perspective in a mass of many people who experience QPRs in their life and/or are on an aro/ace spectrum. I also have NO QUALIFICATIONS on gender/sexuality theory, so my opinions are shaped by what I've learned and experienced personally. While people may identify with the same term, we are all still individuals with our own experiences. Words can help describe a phenomenon, but it doesn't make everyone who identifies with the word into a monolith.

So I've stated a few times that I navigate shipping Alastor similar to my own experiences as an aroace person. (I guess I'm sharing about myself with this post, but I think that can be helpful to just spreading awareness of an "alternative lifestyle"). So I'm romance-repulsed and sex-repulsed LOL but I'm also "positive" about those things. Like I view romance and sex as lovely, fun experiences people can have, but I've never been into it personally. It's fun for me to consume media about romance/sex, but yknow, it's also fun for me to consume media about violence or isolation. Doesn't mean I want to experience or engage in any of those things lol.

Anyway, I'm a huge people person and I love to party and yknow it seems most people are really wanting to fall in love or fuck or whatever pretty much all the time, but especially at parties hahaha. Normally, I'm pretty touch-averse, but I love dancing so much and it's a blast to dance with a partner (salsa especially!! i don't care for grinding for probably obvious reasons). And to connect the two previous sentences, people (whatever gender they are) would be very kissy-touchy on the dancefloor. Which i honestly dont really give a fuck about hahaha. I don't really get anything out of kissing but I also don't mind it. I just like to dance. It's all a pretty superficial--but still genuinely fun--experience for me.

When it comes to my deeper or more intimate connections, I have had friendships that have felt SO on the line of what was viewed as a romantic relationship. They were exceptional friends and we connected on a level that was deep and true, but it wasn't romantic. Sometimes we'd slow dance, sometimes we kissed, and it rocked. But it wasn't more than that, it was all that it needed to be. I didn't want more and neither did they (except one situation and so we had to stop being friends lol whoops). From the outside, people would even refer to us as partners in a half joking way, but we really were just friends. And I love those friends!! And a huge part of what made those relationships (which at the time were described as 'situationships' because we didn't know any of these terms haha) was their convenience. We either lived in the same building, worked together, or were neighbors LOL. I'm still friends with those absolutely lovely folks, but we don't live around each other, so our QPR just appears a lot more like any ole regular friendship. But it's not like there was a feeling that we transitioned into something different than before. It twas what it twas! (Had to take a pause while I was typing to reminisce fondly for a second, okay back to hazbin hahaha)

SO, whenever someone asks or it comes up, MOST OF THE TIME I do ship alastor through an aroace lens and experience with QPRs (specifically, MINEE because they were fun and I've never felt like doing this before I met a character like Al). And my XP is: "this isn't gonna be a partnership and we ain't fucking" LMFAO. so yeah!

When it comes to using a queer term like QPR, I just hope folks are considerate in their writing, but I also am inclined to just believe them if they say that's their intention because QPRs can look very different. Again, aroace and ace folks are not a monolith. The terms help to describe a human's experience. I'm inclined to think people are writing in good faith.

And all this being said, I want to just emphasize that I really don't think it's necessary to consider any of this shit if you want to ship a fictional character. I understand wanting to be protective of a character who shares an identifier with you (I personally don't wanna see romance/sex with Al in canon). But shipping is a fun thing a fandom does that often does ignore canon. Tale as old as time. I don't think anyone needs to be beholden to canon when they're writing fanfiction or having fun. If we did, I would have like--5 artworks on this blog hahaha. These characters are like dollies, do whatever you want. It's cool if people don't like it and I think it's cool if people do. It's just not that serious. There are ships I'm not particularly into or dynamics that I am not enchanted by, but whatever. I can just scroll or close my eyes.

TLDR; shipping in fandom doesn't need to be taken seriously at ALL. It can just be fun way for someone to play with fictional characters they like. That being said, I think it's good practice to use queer terms thoughtfully.

[i23kazu]

♡ THE HELL YOU MEAN YOU'RE HIS LOVER?!

characters. xiao zhongli diluc kaeya childe wriothesley x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. part 1 !!!! when someone else claims to be their partner / work wife. office!au. | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

you're pretty taken aback by the gall of this .... intern? whoever even was she? to claim that she was your husband's wife.

yep, that's how irrelevant she is

xiao was disgusted, to say the least. horrified.

"get your hands off me." he looks her in the eye, the sudden fierceness emitting a gasp from her.

"i love it when you're strict," she purrs, tracing her fingers up his neck. you smack them away.

"perhaps you'll love it if the ceo was stricter with you," you smile sweetly. "i don't think he takes too kindly to homewreckers."

zhongli

not again. not this ... piece of dirt? no, that might be an insult to his old friend guizhong.

she's a catty lady. beady eyes that went straight for his soul – her piercing stare seemed to always follow him.

he didn't like it one bit. his grip around your waist felt tighter, desperate even – a cold "let's go, dear," escaping his lips.

"so protective, suddenly?" you tease.

"i don't take kindly to those who try to insult my love, dearest."

diluc

oh, he goes red with rage. but he looks on at you proudly, because he knows you got it.

who even was she to claim that she loved him? a silly flowergirl who couldn't do her job right, because she was oogling him the whole time. she worshipped the ground he stepped on.

"who are you looking at?" you tap her on the shoulder, eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

"that man... he's mine." she gazes into his eyes, looking him up and down. you scratch your neck. she asks if you're alright.

"i'm afraid i'll have to correct you on that statement. that man is mine." you grin, turning your hand to show her your ring.

kaeya

okay, you totally get it. your husband is hot. but literally the AUDACITY the lack of SHAME the the the-

"please, we've been put together for almost all our cases. isn't that right, darling? it's almost as if they know we're good for each other." they purr.

darling?? DARLING?? you'll show them darling

"is that so?" you chuckle. "perhaps i ought to write in, then. i'm not too sure if my husband takes well to that. a violation of his personal life, if you will."

they go white at the sight of the ring.

"that's my love." kaeya chuckles, watching then stomp away.

childe

he's wildly uncomfortable. "your complexion is deeply concerning, tartaglia," the doctor chuckles.

"i wonder why." he returns it dryly.

he's too nice to avoid them – those longing stares, the notes slipped through stacks of his paperwork – he cant crumple them up and throw them away. he pretends that they're from you instead.

when that witch comes around to his desk, purring and grimy witch hands all over his papers; pretending to annoy him – 

he can't take it. it's disgusting.

"i'd appreciate it if you left me alone," he stares at her. "my partner and i would appreciate it very much."

wriothesley

oh, he's firm. he's firm, and he's strict about it. word gets around quickly in the meropide, and he sits back with his cup of tea and sighs at the thought of a work lover.

he doesn't stand for it, though. he hates the thought of that.

"get your hands away from me, please," he replies coldly, when they run up to hug him, first thing in the morning.

sigiewinne looks on with a proud smile. i raised that boy.

the girl turns away from him with disgust – from seemingly perfect to nothing but sludge beneath her feet. she slinks away, and wriothesley is satisfied.

he can't wait to tell you the news over a cup of your favourite tea.

perhaps some alone time with each other will do the both of you good.

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[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's terrifying to realize you don't know if Bradley is safe. As the lonely days stretch on and on, you try to savor the notes from him. Once the final two envelopes have been opened, you know you need the real thing.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, romantic as hell Bradley, 18+

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Other than your car, everything you owned was inside Bradley's house. Over the last few weeks, Natasha helped you load up his Bronco and make a few trips down, but she looked at you like you were crazy when you told her you were going to leave most things packed up for now.

"Why?" she asked, leaning on a stack of boxes in the living room. "Even if he gets stationed in Norfolk, you'll finish out your school year here before he sells the house."

But you didn't want him to sell his house. You loved it here. Being in his living space was the closest thing to being with him when he was deployed, and you didn't think it was fair that he might have to give this up. What would Edith do without Bradley to help her? What would Bradley do in a different state without his best friend? No, you simply couldn't unpack, just in case, but you also couldn't accept Virginia with any finality until you were explicitly told it was happening.

"I just wish I could talk to him," you whispered.

"Soon," Nat replied, and you jumped, surprised to find you weren't alone in your thoughts. "I just moved a million boxes. I deserve a trip to the wine bar, and so do you. Bradley will be back soon enough."

"Nine days. Not soon enough." 

It was nine days until he was supposed to get back to Norfolk. On Valentine's Day. Then right after that, it was Career Day at your school. You had been holding onto a few of the envelopes and gift cards from him, trying to make them last, but you were almost out. You needed the real thing again.

Natasha groaned. "You are so in love with him, it's kind of gross. Let's go drink wine, and I'll tell you more tales from before the mustache."

You took one more look at the few unopened letters lined up on the coffee table before grabbing the gift card for the wine bar. But even southern California looked gloomy on the drive up. The wine was good, but you were just tired. Natasha told you all about how she tried to give Bradley the call sign Chicken Man, and you laughed at the idea of that emblazoned along the side of his jet. She also seemed to be able to tell just how melancholy you were.

"You're doing great," she told you, setting down her wine glass. "You're counting down the hours until you can talk to Bradley again. Vanessa would have probably been too busy with her water bottles to remember to pick him up from the airport. There's a reason why it's hard, and it's because he loves you as much as you love him."

You did your best to keep it together after that, but there was a lump in your throat, holding back your emotions, and when you got back home, you started crying on the couch. Big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, blurring your vision, but you knew which envelope you were reaching for.

Open me when you've had a bad day

As you tore into the envelope, you realized there was another envelope inside it. The second envelope said Take me to The Bayside Florist and give me to someone who works there.

"What is this, Bradley?" you whispered out loud, reaching for your phone to see if the shop was still open this late on a Saturday. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized they closed in an hour, and you grabbed the envelope along with your phone and keys and ran out to your car.

In a matter of minutes, you parked in front of an adorable flower shop with The Bayside Florist in pink lettering on the awning. You felt a little silly taking the envelope inside, but when you were greeted by an older woman with a warm smile, you started to hand it to her.

"This might sound odd, but my boyfriend is deployed, and he left me this envelope," you said with a laugh. "Apparently I was supposed to bring it here?"

The woman adjusted her glasses as a smile found her lips. "Oh, yes. I remember him. Tall? With a mustache? Handsome?"

You bit your lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise. "Yeah, that sounds just like him."

She nodded and opened the envelope, humming in agreement with whatever she read inside. "I have something for you. Wait right here." 

Then she disappeared through a doorway, and you walked around the inside of the shop, examining the arrangements and enjoying the scent of so many types of flowers mingling together. You weren't quite sure what Bradley had up his sleeve from thousands of miles away, but you were almost positive it was about to make your day so much better.

"Special delivery from your boyfriend."

Startled, you spun around to see a stunning bouquet of flowers in every color on the counter, complete with an envelope tucked in amidst the blooms. "That's for me?" you whispered.

"From your boyfriend," she confirmed.

You stifled a whimper as you reached for the flowers. "Am I supposed to pay for this?"

"He already did."

Tears stung your eyes as you pulled the envelope that said Gorgeous from between two roses. It was written in his handwriting. You thought you should read it in the privacy of your own car, so you thanked the woman and then headed back outside. Once you were sitting behind the steering wheel, you set the flowers aside in favor of the note.

Gorgeous,

I never want you to have a bad day, but I really hate that you're having one when I'm not with you. If I could be anywhere in the world right now, I'd choose to be next to you. Will you write about your day in your journal so we can talk about it later? I can't wait to talk about everything with you. I love you.

Bradley

Now that the tears started, you just let yourself cry.

--------------------------

Constantly wondering if your boyfriend was even okay was taking a toll on you. Your classroom was supposed to be your safe haven right now. Your place of comfort. Your refuge. But a few days before Bradley was supposed to get back into Norfolk, you were short and snippy with your class. You didn't mean to be, but it was happening anyway.

"Just sit down," you told Oliver, voice taking on a sharp, scolding edge that was usually never there. All eighteen of your kids sat with their backs straight in their seats and their hands folded on their desks like they were worried you were going to start yelling. This was never how you wanted to conduct your class. These kids were really well behaved for the most part, and you wanted them to have a lot of fun mixed in with their school lessons.

You turned away from them to try to catch your breath. The past few nights had been filled with restless sleep and a pain in your heart that wouldn't go away until you knew Bradley was safe. You cleared your throat, trying so hard to figure out what you wanted to say for your social studies lesson, but you couldn't shake your mind free from the anxiety you were feeling.

Picturing the flowers that you put in a Miller High Life pitcher you found in the kitchen after Bradley didn't appear to own a vase made you smile enough that you were able to turn around again.

"I need everyone to open their textbook to page eighty-seven." The only sound was pages rustling as you added, "And I promise I'll make this a fun unit for us."

When you finally left work that afternoon, you decided to let yourself open the last envelope from Bradley. It had been in your tote bag for a few days, just waiting for the right moment. Open me when you really want some coffee. You could clearly use the extra caffeine today, so you tore into the envelope as you walked across the parking lot. Just like before, there was an envelope inside the first envelope. 

Take me to Starbucks and give me to someone who works there.

Now you were smiling. You got to go to another place of business with an envelope like an absolute lunatic, and you were really looking forward to it. You stopped at the Starbucks closest to your school, and when you handed the envelope to the girl who tried to take your order, she raised one eyebrow.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I think it's kind of a treasure hunt of sorts from my boyfriend who is deployed," you told her with a shrug. 

Then you watched her open the envelope and remove a note along with a gift card. Her eyes skimmed the text, and her face transformed into the sappiest smile. "Oh my god," she said, looking back up at you. "I wish someone loved me this much," she muttered and then turned away from you, reaching for the biggest cup and a Sharpie.

You waited awkwardly for a few minutes while she made your drink. You could tell it was your favorite drink. Bradley somehow ordered your favorite drink for you to enjoy. Warmth filled your body, and you accepted the cup from her. "Thanks," you murmured as she paid using the gift card, and that's when you realized she had written something on the cup.

Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley

"Does he have a brother?"

You looked up at the girl who made your coffee. "What?" you asked, taking the note and the gift card from her. 

"Does your boyfriend have a brother? Because that note is the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

You shook your head, but you were smiling. "No. No brother. Sorry. Thanks for making my coffee."

As you walked outside you read the note, already feeling calmer at the sight of his hand writing. 

Dear Starbucks Employee,

The beautiful woman who handed you this envelope is my girlfriend. I am desperately in love with her, and I would be there with her if I could, but I'm fucking deployed, if you can believe it. Please make her favorite drink for her, and if you wouldn't mind, please write 'Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley' on the cup? Thank you so much.

He had scrawled your favorite drink to your exact specifications below that, and it even tasted perfect. You spent the ride back to Coronado planning out your upcoming Monday. If Bradley arrived back to Virginia on time, you'd be hearing from him by then. Every fiber of your being was hoping he'd call and tell you to pick him up in San Diego, but if he had to stay in Norfolk, you'd take a day off from work to fly out and see him. You had to. You wouldn't be able to go an extra minute without him now. You wanted to hug him and kiss him and give him a blowjob. You needed to feel his hands on your body and listen to his voice while you ran your fingers along his scars. 

Monday couldn't get here fast enough.

-----------------------------

The only thing Bradley wanted to do right now was get his phone in his fucking hands, but he thought that if he brought it up again, someone would tell him the thing had been mysteriously misplaced. He already asked for it three times. He'd been dropped back in Norfolk by air transport, and after a short debrief with a national security team, he would hopefully be allowed to be on his way.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. This way."

He was led into a medical facility first where his bruises and strained neck were examined and the findings were documented. When he realized he got caught up in a dog fighting scenario with the other aviators, he had been more angry than anything else. Didn't these people know he had a perfect girlfriend to get back home to? Did they even care? He made it out mostly unscathed and back to the carrier deck safely, if not a little sore. The one thing that made him almost laugh was the fact that Cyclone would undoubtedly see his medical report, and there was a good chance Admiral Walker would hear from him again.

After the medical consultation, he was led into a debriefing room where he really didn't have much to say about the mission. It had been successful, sure, but he wasn't going to be allowed to discuss it with anyone after this, so he just stuck to answering the questions he was asked.

Then finally, he was given his phone and left on his own. Of course it was nearly dead when he turned it on, but it should be good enough to reach you. Talking to you would come as his top priority before figuring out how he was getting home, but that was a close second. His heart pounded in anticipation of hearing your voice after so many weeks.

It was barely six in the morning in San Diego. Maybe you were up and getting ready for work, but maybe you were still sleeping. It didn't matter. He needed you to know he was coming home. He tapped on your photo, pulling up your contact information as the warm sun and cold Virginia air hit his skin at the same time, and he shivered as soon as the phone stopped ringing. Your voice in his ear was his reward. 

"Bradley!"

"Gorgeous," he sighed, suddenly so exhausted, he could barely stand. One word from you, and all he wanted to do was curl up on his couch with his head on your lap and let you take care of everything.

"Bradley!" You shrieked this time, and he smiled.

"Baby, I'm coming home."

"For good?" you asked, voice soft with an edge of concern that he wanted nothing more than to ease away. "Or just long enough to pack some things and head back to Norfolk?"

He hoisted his duffle onto his shoulder and started walking. "I'm coming home for good. Coming home to you."

---------------------------------

He's safe and he's coming home! I'm working on mapping out the remaining chapters of this story, so if there's something you want to read about, hit me up. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

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[pocket-solas]

The ending was fine, but what really bothered me what the fact that Lavellan is, once again, cast aside in second position. Solas calls her "vhenan", writes her letters, says his feelings for her will never change etc... and continues destroying her world because he's sad over another woman. At the end, it's Mythal who changes his mind, not Lavellan.

And once again, it's Lavellan who takes agency, who shows interest, by insisting to go with him, by starting the kiss, by touching his back while he simply stands there, hands crossed without even looking at her. I don't know, I'm glad they're finally together, but it really felt like Lavellan is the one who's pining over this relationship, not Solas.

Mythal is essentially Solas' creator. She "pulled him from the Fade" and gave him a purpose, even if it was one that twisted his nature. He was bound to her service. I don't believe at all they were romantically involved, despite speculation in and out of the Veilguard game. Mythal herself consistently treats him as an "old friend" and even as a child, despite their ages being the same.

Their affection for each other runs deep. And is an ancient bond. Lavellan doesn't have that rapport with him, no matter how much they love each other.

At the end of Trespasser Solas refuses to allow Lavellan to follow, not wanting her to see what he becomes. And I think we the player saw what he became, he tried to become more the Dread Wolf than Solas.

You cannot get the happy ending without the Inquisitor, so I would say they are in fact very important. When Solas says "thank you" during that final scene he is addressing directly the Inquisitor. (Unless Lavellan kisses him then he says "Thank you, Rook")

Solas loves Lavellan. She is his heart. For the past decade or more he has denied his heart and tried to harden it against those who care for him. He "killed" Mythal when even she tried to dissuade him from his course.

It took Rook, Mythal AND the Inquisitor together to convince him to stop.

As for the animations of the final scene. I couldn't be more pleased. They kissed. Despite Solas just having an emotional breakdown, demon blood in his mouth, and probably a concussion. Yes, Lavellan was the one to reach out but I wasn't expecting any different.

He doesn't want to subject her to the "terrible" place he is going to atone for what he has done. She was the one who stepped forward and this time insisted she go with him. And he gave her zero argument, just one warning it won't be easy for them

I wish he had reached for her hand there at the end. But as she touched his shoulder it was his magic that enveloped her as well, making sure to take her with him to where his destination lies.

Also adding onto this because the way he looks at Lavellan in this game is more meaningful to me than any touch they could've animated. I mean cmon...look at this and tell me he isn't deeply in love with her.

I mean PLEASE

And in the kiss animation you can see his mouth moving as he kisses her back eeeeeeeeee okay...I'm done.

[lxvebun]

silent confessions

synopsis: the genshin men crushing on you and the little ways they show they care.

content: Kaeya/Venti/Alhaitham/ Arataki Itto x gender neutral reader. First time writing for venti so apologies if its a lil off. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Kissing in kaeya's. wingman diluc honestly. Going a lil feral in alhaithams and ittos. Use of nickname dear and cecilia<3 They are all quite long but I hope you all enjoy it! Not completely proofread. Let me know if there are any annoying mistakes!

⁎⁺˳✧༚ Kaeya໒꒱.*

Diluc is sure of three things. One, You're hands down single-handedly keeping the icedtea business alive in Mondstadt, his arms are still hurting from the heavy crates of imported tea from Liyue he has to carry every. Single. Week. Two, you're incredibly oblivious, three, kaeya is a lovesick fool.

Even though diluc has offered to deliver some iced tea crates to your home, it seems that you prefer to drink his stash empty at the bar next to kaeya.

It's making him ill really, seeing the way his brothers eyes keep drifting to your lips and how his hands inch closer to yours, still never really touching. Diluc almost doesn't recognize him. Kaeya is not the type to get flustered easily, if anything, try to make him flustered and it will backfire! but here he is, for hours sitting at the bar head leaning on his hands staring at you like you hung the stars.

You fail to notice how, despite not touching your drink for so long, at one point even dancing around the tavern when the bard played your favorite song, the icecubes in your glass never seem to melt and the tea never gets warm. It's the least he can do, Kaeya would be showing you more grand gestures of love if you didnt make his head fog up with hearts and flowers everytime your near.

"I'm going to use the bathroom, i'll be right back! "You say as you hop of the barstool and make your way to the second floor.

"This, is getting sad you know", diluc speaks as he snatches both yours and Kaeya's glass away, dodging quick enough as Kaeya tries to get it back

"Oh i'm sorry, I didn't know my love life was such an interesting show to you. I'll make sure to tell the writers"

Stupid arrogant oblivious brother of his

He's not gentle as he grabs one of the big pints, pours your favorite iced tea in with the ice cubes and slices of lemon and two straws this time and places it down infront of kaeya.

"I'm doing you a favor icicle"

Kaeya's unable to retort a remark back because you're sitting down next to him again.

"Ooh whats this, luc?" As you stir the tea with your straw, the ice cubes gently clinking against the edges of the glass

"On the house, it's the last"-he throws you a look- bit of icetea I have for tonight. Enjoy." And with that he steps out the backdoor for a break leaving you and kaeya in an almost empty tavern

He's feeling uncharacteristically shy sharing a drink like this. He's not sure he can contain the love confession thats lingering on his lips if you're that close to eachother. You snap him out of his thoughts before he can even try.

"Come on try this with me...its...its quite romantic don't you think" you say, a little timid

Youre killing him. Hes deceased y/n.

"Yeah, didn't- didnt realise Diluc had a romantic bone in him, guess it runs in the family after all"

You're not sure where you got the courage from for what you're about to say

"Maybe, we should do more of these romantic things together."

And just like that, knowing you shared his feelings, he got a bit of his charming wit back.

"My dear y/n- he starts, leaning down closer to you, one icy hand holding yours. Are you asking me out on a date" he wants to revel in making you flustered but he's pretty sure he looks just as flustered as you do.

"Only if you want to, Kaeya"

The way he presses his lips to yours gives you the answer you needed<3

Venti, alhaitham and itto under the cut!

⁎⁺˳✧༚ Venti໒꒱.*

Archons, the summer this time around is way hotter than any summers before. It's scorching outside and if it weren't for your knight of favonius duties, duties you took over for the Cavalry Captain for his day off (>:( ), you would stay inside the cool headquarters, in your little office with the curtains closed.

You really should get going but you're delaying stepping outside. The favonius headquarters is nice and cool and and looking outside you can see the heat radiating from the stone pathways

You're a knight of favonius! A little sunshine isn't going to hurt! You try to hype yourself up as you make it to the entrance. You can do this, who knows, you might even get a tan.

Bracing yourself and pushing the heavy doors open, you're pleasantly surprised at how the wind immediately seems to pick up and twirl and flow around you in cooling circles. Yes, the sun is still beaming down in all his glory, but the breeze definitely helps. You may even get through this without breaking too much of a sweat.

As you're doing your errands and run basically all over Mondstadt, the gentle breeze surrounding you never seems to falter, even now, as you carry heavy crates of sunsettias and apples up the stairs to Good Hunter, it actually seems like the wind has started to pick up, aiding you in its own way.

Sara is more than grateful as you place the crates down in the back for her. "You're a lifesaver y/n, please, go sit down and i'll whip something up for you".

Who are you to deny a break and a free meal?

Before you sit down you take off your sword and place it down next to you so you can completely unwind. It's not until you look back up from your weapon that you see Venti, with the bright smile he always seems to carry, sitting infront of you

"Hi, my sweet cecilia"

Archons, that nickname. You're lucky you can blame the weather on the sudden warmth flowing through your body.

"You're awfully happy for such a hot day, Venti"

He doesn't provide an answer to that, why is he so happy? Because he's with you of course, he's basically been spending the whole day with you, how could he not be happy?

instead of saying that tho he says "the wind is nice, hmm?" And On cue the wind stars to pick up again, now carrying the scent of the meal Sara is cooking up for you and twirling a few flower petals that got caught in it around you You little

"Yeah it is, i'm not sure I would have been able to get through the day without a little breeze in my face" you laugh and it's the sweetest melody he's ever heard.

"I guess the anemo archon has a soft spot for me"

"I suppose he does"

You fail to catch the longing glint in his eyes and the blush covering his cheeks as Sara brings you your meal<3

Oh my dear y/n if only you knew.

⁎⁺˳✧༚ Alhaitham໒꒱.*

It's not until Kaveh points it out, after Alhaitham leaves to pick up another book from the House of Daena library shelves, that you realize it, but it seems that Alhaitham, despite looking like he wants to be anywhere but here, always seems to look out for you.

Like the time he dragged you to the desert to study runes with him, he made sure every time you two stood still for a long time, he'd raise his cape a little above your head, sheltering you from the burning sun

And that one time where he grabbed your arm and pulled you into his side when some drunkards stumbling home almost bumped into you

"Drop your pen when he gets back" kaveh says, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Drop my-"

"Sshh, just do it" he hushes quickly and goes back to drawing as Alhaitham sits back down next to you with a new book in his hand.

You let Alhaitham read a few more pages before you "accidentally" drop your pen under the table, sliding your seat back and ducking under to retrieve it, when you look back up to avoid hitting your head on the corner of the table, Alhaithams hand is already covering it. His gaze is still as focused as ever on the book infront of him, it's almost like it happened entirely subconsciously, like it was already engraved in his perception to look out for you and that alone made the butterlies in your tummy flutter around. You don't miss the "I told you so" gaze Kaveh throws at you.

Alhaithams book manages to hide the gentle smile he failed to hold back as he guesses from the look on your face and body language that you're onto him, and if he can guess one more time, he'd say the feelings are mutual.

He doesn't say anything but he does reach under you to grab the leg of your chair and pull you closer to him, arm draped behind you over the backrest, gently drawing shapes on your shoulder as he continues to read his book

*Did ya'll see that one nick jonas clip where he pulls her chair closer? Yeah? Thats alhaitham.

⁎⁺˳✧༚ Arataki Itto໒꒱.*

The locals of Inazuma are used to the never ending thundering and lightning. Even on clear days, it seems like you can always hear it lurking in the distance, dancing over the seas. Unfortunately for you, you’re not a local and despite having been here for a while, long enough to develop strong friendships and perhaps a little crush <3 the loud claps of thunder and the lightning that cracks open the clouds still make you flinch

You were embarrassed about it, so you never voiced it out to your friends. You would just try to hide your flinches and do your best to block out the noise. You're not doing that very well unfortunately. Itto has noticed, and boy does it make his heart hurt a little every time he catches you trying to hide it. You're part of the gang! Whether you know  that or not, you're supposed to be able to tell him these things! but he understands, you seem to think that you're going to look weak in front of Arataki numero uno claymore swinging devil beatbox and beetle fighting legend Itto. He made me write this really You could never considering he gets weak in the knees everytime you make eye contact or touch his horns

So as the leader of your gang, your best friend and hopefully future boyfriend, he’s gonna help you because If there's one thing Itto is good at its being loud. It’s quite hard to hear the thunder lurking in the background when Itto's boisterous laugh as he’s "winning" a game of TCG seems to overpower everything, including the way your heart beats a little faster when he smiles at you.

You didn’t notice what he was doing until there was a summer storm forecasted. You didn't even have time to mentally prepare yourself for it before there was a harsh knocking at your door, maybe a bit to hard itto pls dont break the door

"Open up sunshine, I have some snacks :D"

He’s quick to make himself comfortable as you let him in, throwing the impressive amount of snacks and some card games on the coffee table and then taking up half the space on the couch, being careful to not knock the lamp on the sidetable down with his horns.

"Not that I mind Itto, but i didn't expect you to come over. Any reasons?"

"Yeah you're"- he cuts himself off. You never told him about your fear of thunder, would it upset you if you knew he figured it out?, archons he didnt think of an excuse what should he say, where is Kuki in times like this

"Yeah, I just thought i’d keep you some company because I AM afraid of summerstorms, yup, totally terrifying, so scary,so here i am."

Even he knows it's not believable. Especially since he has directed some...colorful words with the shogun before (not in her presence)

You are afraid”-

AND AND I thought, you know, maybe, since were all going to be locked up in our houses anyway we could have a little at home date......:D

Archons, Itto, if the storm isn't going to kill you its him. He's been aware of your fear and silently tried to help you with it? And now he has basically slipped a confession in trying to hide the fact he knows about your fear? He's such a teddybear fr

You don't fight the smile that's pulling at the corners of your mouth as you sit down next to him. Pressing a kiss to his cheek and pretending not to notice the hitch in his breath "Thank you, Itto"

Thank you for reading angels!<3

[eufezco]

HOW DID IT END?

How is it that Steve's departure only drove you further apart? How was it possible that the only thing left between you after all was hatred for each other? Maybe these questions could be answered in a therapy session or in a night together.

bucky x fem!reader (angst, smut with plot, lovers to enemies to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

—James, condition of your release, session now.

You looked at Bucky and he looked back at you, pressing his lips together and starting to walk after his therapist, annoyed.

—You too, young lady.

—That's okay, I can wait here with Sam.

—It wasn't a request. Sam, you have front-row seats for the show if you like—. The demanding tone in her voice surprised you and you had no choice but to follow her.

The therapist sat down at the table and opened her notebook. You and Bucky were at the other side of the table, sitting next to each other and in front of the woman. You didn't look at each other, you had not even shared a word. Sam, who was leaning against the wall behind the therapist, looked at both of you and shook his head. Steve was right when he said that you were both equally stubborn.

—So, who would like to start?

—I don't even know what I'm doing here. This is ridiculous.

—Yeah, I agree —. Bucky added.

—See? Making progress already —. She waited a few seconds to see if either of you would like to talk but you and Bucky remained silent. Dr. Raynor sighed, if it was already difficult to deal with him alone, it would be twice as difficult to deal not only with Bucky but also with a copy of him as a woman. —It is my job to make sure you're okay. And yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional but it's the only way that I can see if you're getting over whatever's eating at you.

You huffed a laugh and Bucky rolled his eyes. Whatever's eating at you? What could possibly be eating at you? There was nothing that-

—So, why don't you both start by telling me what kind of relationship you had with Steve Rogers?

Your expression changed completely when you heard his name. Bucky looked at you out of the corner of his eyes, Sam's eyes also went to you as he tensed his back when Dr. Raynow brought Steve up out of nowhere. Bucky decided to start talking but you couldn't hear what he was saying, you could only focus on how tense your jaw was, the knot in your stomach, and all the anger you were feeling.

Just as it was a relief for Bucky to think and talk about Steve, it hurt you. There was never anything romantic about your friendship with Steve, it was purely based on your devotion to him and your mutual admiration and respect.

When you lost Bucky and Steve crashed into the ice, you had no reason to live but before your heart stopped beating, Howard Stark found you and injected you with the serum. And when you woke up there was only Steve, seventy years later and just as confused as you, living in a century that did not belong to you.

You were together during the whole process of readjusting to your new lives. For Steve, you joined a group of people who called themselves the Avengers and fought against the god of mischief in New York. For Steve, you were almost killed by a robot in Sokovia. For Steve, you fought the Winter Soldier. For Steve, you sided against Tony Stark, the son of the man who brought you back to life, and for Steve, you fought, lost, fought again, and won against Thanos.

They say there is no worse heartbreak than that caused by a friend and Steve Rogers stole a piece of your heart when he left.

—Thank you, James. What can you tell us about Steve? —Dr. Raynor asked you.

You shook your head, your eyes fixed on one spot. The feeling of betrayal when Steve didn't return within the five seconds set by Bruce still haunted you. —I will never forgive him.

Bucky shook his head as well, he turned to look at you. —You know, Dr. Raynor? I've met her for more than seventy years now and one thing that hasn't changed about her is how selfish she is.

—James, we are not here to make value judgments about the feelings experienced by the other person.

The condescending tone in Bucky's voice made you close your eyes and take a deep breath before you talked. —You were captured by HYDRA, tried to kill us, then went into cryogenic sleep and disappeared with the snap. I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through since you never lost Steve because you never had him.

—He was my best friend! —Bucky raised his tone and turned in his chair to look at you.

—You don't even remember a single thing of him before he became Captain America!

Sam called your name. That wasn't Bucky's fault.

—He left because that was the life he fought so many years for! That's the life Steve deserved!

—He was my best friend too! We were together all these years while you were killing people and I had to watch him go! —You did the same as him. That was the first time you looked at each other since the session started and you were yelling at each other. Sam didn't miss any part of the argument, he was with his arms crossed and paying attention to everything you were saying to each other. How could two people who had loved each other so much end up like this?

—Okay, that's enough —. The doctor stopped you before it went any further. You and Bucky rested your backs on the chair again, defeated, and your eyes focused on the therapist. —Since this isn't working, we're going to do an exercise. It's something I use with couples when they're trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna built together —. The doctor added. Bucky rolled his eyes and you closed yours while shaking your head.

—You are acting as if you were never a couple —Sam said.

—Back in 1940.

—Yeah, eighty-two years ago.

You both said at the same time.

—Come on, turn around, look at each other.

Both of you hesitated for a few seconds but finally turned to face each other. His blue eyes were fixed on yours, it was difficult to keep eye contact with him.

—The exercise is called Everytime I look at you and consists of saying something that you feel or see in the other person every time you look at them. Why don't you start?

As you looked at Bucky, you could see the young soldier, wearing his new uniform proudly and hanging a copy of his dog tag around your neck. Looking into Bucky's eyes you felt again the last kiss he gave you before falling from the train, you heard his last laugh before he was brainwashed by HYDRA, you could even feel the caress of his fingers on your skin before the vibranium covered one of his hands.

—Every time I look at you, you have that lost puppy look on your face, asking for people's sympathy. I can't even look at you because every time I do, your mere presence reminds me that Steve's no longer here and it makes me want to fucking die, and sometimes I wish-

Sam called your name and you stopped talking before you could finish the sentence. Bucky's eyes never left yours. You were saying all that to his face.

—Let her finish, Sam —. Dr. Raynor said.

There was a silence.

—And sometimes I wish you were gone instead of him.

As Bucky looked at you, he could see the young lady he fell in love with even though everything he remembered about her was gone. The sparkle in that girl's eyes could no longer be found in yours, but he couldn't forget how your eyes shone as he wrapped his arms around your waist to dance. Bucky did not forget the sound of your laughter when he told you that he would marry you after the war, even though he was totally serious.

—Every time I look at you I don't recognize you. You have changed for the worse and I'm not sure if I like this version of you. You are mean, you don't allow people to get close to you and you hide and say that it's Steve's fault for leaving. But let me just say...

Bucky could see how you dealt with sadness by turning it into anger, he knew it because he did the same thing. Your jaw tightened and you closed your fists so hard that your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands. You didn't want him to say it, but at the same time, you couldn't wait to hear it.

—... that being a bitch isn't going to bring him back.

As soon as Bucky finished the sentence, you got up from the chair and left the room slamming the door. He didn't react to you leaving, he just sat in the chair asking himself the same question as Sam. How did you come to this? How could two people who had loved each other so much end up like this? Sam tried to go after you but he could not keep up with your super soldier speed so he went back to the police station with Bucky and gave him the same look of disappointment that Steve would have given him.

That same night someone knocked on your front door.

You thought it would be Sam because he had been calling you nonstop since you left and you had been ignoring him all day long but when you opened the door, you found Bucky instead.

He took a step closer to you to go inside your house and your hand connected firmly with his cheek. The skin on his face burned right where you had hit him and your body was blocking the doorway. He was just as angry as you were so he gave you a strong push on your shoulders. You managed to keep your balance and he managed to get inside the house and close the door behind him.

Bucky towered you with a challenging attitude, keeping eye contact while forcing you to take a few steps backward. You, despite being shorter than him, did not lower your head. Your breathing was heavy, the tension was too much, you wanted to hit him again and you wanted to say worse things to him than what you said in the therapy session.

When you raised your hand to slap him again, he grabbed your arm with his vibranium hand and squeezed hard enough for it to hurt but you did not give him the pleasure of expressing the pain. The tension was overwhelming. There were only two ways to solve this, either he would let go of your arm and start a fight that wouldn't end until both of you were on the floor exhausted and bleeding, or...

Your bodies collided as you pressed your lips together. Bucky held your face with both hands while his lips devoured yours as your hands pulled on the hem of his shirt. He lifted his arms so you could take it off and in that moment you took a few seconds to admire his well-defined abs. He leaned in for another kiss but you pushed him by his shoulder, strong enough for his back to hit against a wall of your house and crack it. Before he could complain, you connected your lips with his again.

Bucky's fingers closed around your neck as a response. Your mouth opened against his lips, trying to get the air that he was keeping from reaching your lungs and Bucky's tongue went pass your lips.

You took a big breath of air once he let go of your neck and he began to unbutton your jeans. He would never admit it but he made sure that you were okay and that he had not taken it too far, especially when your hands went to his shoulders to keep your balance due to the dizziness. And when Bucky thought he had control over you, your fingernails slid painfully from his shoulders to his abdomen and he groaned.

Bucky threw his head back against the wall once your finger sneaked into his jeans and wrapped around his cock. You moved your hand cruelly slow, he had his eyes closed as he bit his lower lip to hold back his moans. You ran your tongue along his collarbone until you reached his earlobe. —I fucking despise you —. You whispered in his ear. He let out a moan and immediately clenched his jaw again. You felt his hips thrust into your hand.

—Fucking same, doll —. Bucky muttered through gritted teeth.

He brought his hands to your ass and squeezed it as he helped you to wrap your legs around his body. Your lips met again as he walked you to the big wooden table in your living room where he helped you to lie down. Bucky pulled his jeans down enough to free his hard cock while you opened your legs to him. He noticed the wet spot on your panties and you noticed the red marks that your fingernails had carved on his chest. As he pulled your panties to the side, your fingers ran over those marks and Bucky hissed.

The head of his cock was more than enough to stretch you open. You repositioned yourself at the table, now sitting up on your elbows to watch as he pushed himself inside of you. You thought he would give you a few seconds to get used to the feeling, but he didn't stop until he was balls deep inside you.

—Now you take it. Make it up for that attitude —. You whined at his words and Bucky rested his forehead against yours while his hips thrusted into yours.

You encircled your legs around his waist and hooked your ankles over the swell of his ass while he kept slamming his hips into you. At that point you couldn't even think straight, he was hitting all the right spots to make your mind foggy. His pace remained fast and hard, and you thought about the serum running through your veins and how you both could keep up with that pace all night long.

Bucky tucked his head into your neck and whispered the filthiest words into your ear, his hands were on your thighs, squeezing your flesh lustfully, he pulled his dick all way out and then pushed in again until his balls were against your pussy. Your fingers tugged his brown hair at the root, getting moans from him because of your tight grip as it encouraged him to fuck you even harder. If that was how hating you felt, he wanted to hate you for all eternity.

When he heard you moaning and whimpering uncontrollably, when your legs fought to close and squeezed his body, when he felt your nails digging into the skin of his back, Bucky pushed your legs up, hooking your legs over his shoulders, and kept fucking you in that position until it became harder and harder for him to keep going because of the tightness of your pussy. You came screaming his name and spasming around him, Bucky came a few seconds later, with a deep groan that made his chest vibrate and emptying himself inside you.

The next morning, when his alarm went off, Bucky was alone in your bed. He took his time to take a shower and grab something from your kitchen for breakfast before he left. Bucky walked to his therapist's office, trying not to give much importance to what happened last night and especially trying not to think about all the horrible things you said to each other earlier that day in front of Sam and Dr. Raynor.

When he entered the office, Dr. Raynor was not alone. Bucky almost apologized and closed the door again, thinking he interrupted someone's session, but then you turned around in your chair and looked at him. He looked back at you, surprised, from the doorway.

You were already inside, now it was up to him to decide whether to go in with you. Bucky didn't have to think about it, he closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair next to you. You wanted to give yourselves a chance, for your sake, for Steve's sake, and for trying to get back what you two once had.

—Let's try again, shall we? —Dr. Raynor asked with a smile.