#hes perfect and he FINALLY sounds his age. wow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

creamflix · 17 days ago

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PHD IN LOVING YOU! — gojo satoru x (south asian) female reader [oneshot]

summary: you’ve perfected the art of running your classroom with all the intensity of a courtroom drama, leaving most of your students sweating bullets. enter gojo satoru — chaos incarnate, immune to your terrifying presence and oddly persistent in his antics. when his usual charm fails in the lecture hall, he decides to take up a part-time gig at a restaurant you frequent, just to catch you off guard. falling for someone? totally against his rules. but for you? maybe he’s willing to rewrite the script. after all, what’s love without a little melodrama?

content warnings: fluff & crack. sunshine gojo x grumpy reader. slightly “tsundere” reader. age gap of barely a few years [gojo is in his last year of college, reader has recently finished college]. mentions of alchohol, drunken confessions, frat party. food as a metaphor for love. he fell first, s/he fell harder trope. oblivious idiots in love. mentioned characters: nanami and suguru. many south asian and desi vocabulary/references, non-english words have been italicized - can be read with poc reader if you’d like.

read on ao3!

“you know, around here, they call me the strongest.”

you didn’t even bother looking up from your notes. the voice — a mix of arrogance and charm that seemed to be dripping in its own self-confidence — was impossible to ignore. you clicked your pen shut, deliberately slow, and turned your head just enough to give him the most unimpressed look you could muster.

“wow,” you said, voice flatter than a pancake in a hydraulic press. “should i clap or…?”

he grinned, and lord help you, it was the kind of grin that made people weak in the knees. unfortunately for him, you were built different. built on hard work, resilience, and the occasional well-timed tea break.

“clapping’s optional. fainting’s encouraged,” he quipped, leaning against the desk like he had all the time in the world and none of it was for anything remotely productive. his hair was somehow whiter than freshly washed bedsheets in an ad, and his sunglasses — indoors, mind you — screamed “i’m better than you” energy. he radiated main character syndrome.

you hated it already.

“yeah, no thanks,” you replied, finally closing your notebook and looking him over. he was tall — ridiculously so — and gave the impression of someone who breezed through life. his uniform was slightly undone, tie askew, and his energy screamed chaos. how was this guy even a student? better yet, why was he bothering you?

“what’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head like a curious puppy.

“assistant professor,” you deadpanned. “yours?”

he chuckled, and you immediately hated how smooth it sounded. “gojo satoru,” he said, sticking out a hand. when you didn’t take it, he dramatically clutched his chest. “ouch. is this how you treat everyone? or am i just special?”

“special, alright,” you muttered, gathering your notes. “special cases need special patience.”

he laughed again, entirely too amused for your liking. “oh, i like you. you’ve got bite. most of the other assistants here just nod and take notes.”

“maybe they’re smarter than me,” you said, shoving your notebook into your bag. “because clearly, engaging with you is a waste of time.”

his hand shot to his chest again, like he was physically wounded. “harsh. let me guess — you’re not from around here?”

“nope. just an exchange student,” you said, trying to sidestep him, but he moved to block your path with the kind of speed that made you pause. his grin widened.

“ohhh, so you’re fresh meat. perfect.”

“i’m what now?” you asked, tone incredulous.

“fresh meat. new blood. the newbie. means you need someone to show you around — and lucky for you, i happen to be the best tour guide on this campus.” he said it like it was a fact, like the sky being blue or tea being superior to coffee. “and by best, i mean me. obviously.”

“oh, obviously,” you said dryly, finally losing your patience. “listen, gojo-san —”

“just call me satoru,” he interrupted, and you could swear the man was physically incapable of shutting up.

“fine, satoru.” you narrowed your eyes. “i don’t need a tour guide. i’ve been here two weeks, and i’m doing just fine without whatever… circus act you’re trying to sell me.”

“two weeks?” he repeated, looking genuinely surprised. “and i’m just meeting you now? tragedy. an absolute tragedy. who’s been hogging all your time?”

you pinched the bridge of your nose. “my job, satoru. you know, work? responsibilities? ever heard of those?”

“vaguely,” he said, waving his hand like the concept was beneath him. “but they don’t sound nearly as fun as whatever we could be doing. come ooonnnn, i’ll even buy you lunch. do they have the food you like here? no? okay, we’ll work with what we’ve got.”

you stared at him, wondering what karmic sin you committed to end up here. but as much as you hated to admit it, he was…kind of funny. infuriating, sure, but funny.

not that you’d tell him that.

“why are you so determined to bother me?” you finally asked.

“because,” he said simply, leaning down until he was eye level with you. “you look like the only person here who won’t bore me to death. and i’m the strongest, remember? you should be honored.”

your eyes twitched. “the only thing i’m honored by is how incredibly patient i’m being right now. do you ever stop talking?”

“not when i’m around someone interesting,” he shot back, straightening up and casually stuffing his hands in his pockets. “so, assistant professor — what’s your name?”

you debated lying, but something about the way he looked at you — like you were a puzzle he was determined to solve — made you relent. “it’s y/n.”

“y/n,” he repeated, like he was trying it out. then, with another blinding grin, he pointed finger guns at you. finger guns.

“well, y/n, you’re stuck with me now.”

you sighed. “this is gonna be the longest exchange program of my life.”

⟡ ₊ . ༄

gojo wasn’t the type to waste his time on newbies. fresh faces didn’t interest him, and assistant professor types were even lower on his list of people to bother. but you? you were something else. and not in the way where people threw around the word "exotic" like it was a compliment when really it made your blood boil. no, what made you different was your no-nonsense, whip-cracking, grade-A work ethic that had the entire campus buzzing.

rumor had it you’d leave the university with a teaching badge instead of your certificate, and honestly? no one would be surprised. you were that good. the kind of good that made nanami — notoriously stoic nanami — actually praise you. it wasn’t swooning, obviously; nanami would never swoon. but if he was capable of admiration beyond his rigid work-life balance philosophy, you had earned it. the rest of the student body?

terrified.

genuinely, pant-shitting levels of fear. because for the first time in, well, forever, students were completing assignments on time. early, even.

fear, respect, or some chaotic cocktail of the two, no one dared question it. the unspoken rule? just do your work before you end up on the wrong side of assistant professor y/n.

gojo? oh, he saw all of it. the storm you stirred up, the iron grip you had on a campus that thrived on chaos. he knew you wouldn’t let him get away with his usual antics. not the skipping class, not the snarky comments, and definitely not his self-declared celebrity status. you were a buzzsaw of accountability, and gojo loved it. not in the way you think, though — don’t get ahead of yourself.

because gojoism — yes, that’s a thing; yes, he coined it — has a very clear rule: don’t get attached. people, places, things — they’re all just pit stops in the grand marathon of gojo satoru versus the world. getting attached? getting sentimental? that’s for suckers who don’t know how this game works. and catching feelings for an assistant professor? please. that would be career suicide.

but here’s the thing about gojo: he thrives in contradiction. so while he’d never admit it, he couldn’t get enough of the way you refused to be impressed by him. not his titles, not his abilities, not even his very charming face (his words, obviously). the way you rolled your eyes at his jokes instead of laughing? addicting. the way you’d cut him off mid-sentence with a pointed look? chef’s kiss.

he’d push your buttons — because of course he would — and you’d push back harder. sometimes literally, if he got too close.

“gojo,” you’d say, voice clipped as you slammed a stack of papers onto the desk he was currently lounging on, “do you even know what deadlines are?”

“do you even know how cute you look when you’re mad?” he’d shoot back with a smirk, only for you to grab the stack of papers and smack him on the head with it.

“i’m docking points for that,” you’d reply.

“good thing i’m not in that class,” he’d say, rubbing the back of his head but grinning all the same.

you weren’t like anyone else here. and while gojo would never admit it — never — you made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, attachment wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

not that he’d act on it. he had a reputation to maintain, after all.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

your hometown wasn’t kind to its students, and for women? the hurdles were sky-high. if you made it past the expectations of marriage by twenty-five, you were already considered lucky. but leaving the country? going all the way to japan to work as an assistant professor? it was practically unheard of. you fought tooth and nail for this opportunity, and everyone in your life — your parents, your friends, and especially your sleep-deprived self — knew it.

your parents bore the brunt of it back home, of course. aunties with too much time on their hands whispered about how you’d “slipped away from their hands” and speculated with relish about what a young woman like you must be doing all alone in another country. you heard about the comments in their phone calls, the carefully worded complaints disguised as updates. but you? you silently flipped every single one of those people off and worked harder.

and when you got to japan? well, you expected the students here to match the academic rigor you were used to. surely, you thought, at a prestigious institution like this one, students would treat education with the respect it deserved. but what you found instead was chaos. procrastination, laziness, and a classroom full of students who had clearly never experienced the kind of academic discipline you grew up with.

so you showed them. you brought the fire and brimstone that only years of being forged in the relentless grind of your own education could provide. your methods were strict, your expectations sky-high. deadlines weren’t suggestions; they were law. a harsh approach? maybe. but you weren’t here to make friends — you were here to do your job. and, to your satisfaction, it worked.

assignments started coming in on time. some students even began submitting them early. the whispers in the hallways stopped being about how scary you were and turned into grudging admiration. you weren’t just another assistant professor anymore; you were the assistant professor. the one who could whip an entire class into shape.

but there was one exception to your reign of order. one glaring, white-haired exception.

gojo satoru.

no amount of stern talking, rule-enforcing, or pointed glares seemed to get through to him. while the rest of his peers buckled down and locked in, gojo remained steadfastly, infuriatingly gojo. he treated your class like a casual hangout session, his assignments as optional suggestions, and your authority as a particularly amusing joke.

you tried everything. you talked to him one-on-one (he just grinned and offered you candy). you imposed stricter penalties (he seemed genuinely delighted to rack up a record number of deductions). finally, in frustration, you tried reverse psychology: ignoring him altogether.

if you thought that would deter him, though, you clearly underestimated how much gojo thrived on attention — especially yours.

at first, he made a game of it. raising his hand obnoxiously in class, only to say something irrelevant when called on. loudly announcing how much he missed being scolded by you. once, he even showed up early, leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin as if daring you to acknowledge his punctuality.

“oh, wow, professor y/n,” he said with mock sincerity, “do i finally have your attention, or should i try harder?”

you didn’t even glance up from your notes. “if this is you trying, then maybe you should quit while you’re ahead, gojo-san.”

he pouted. actually pouted. “cold as ever. don’t you think this is a little mean? ignoring one of your best students?”

you finally looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “best at what? wasting time?”

the class laughed. gojo didn’t. instead, he grinned, a slow, deliberate grin that made you feel like you’d walked right into a trap.

“oh, you’re good,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering over to his seat. “but i’m better.”

and that was the thing about gojo: he wasn’t just a student. he was a problem. an unshakable, incorrigible problem. and as much as you hated to admit it, ignoring him was harder than it should’ve been. not because you cared what he thought, obviously. but because he was just so damn annoying.

and, if you were being honest with yourself, a tiny part of you begrudgingly respected his ability to get under your skin. not that you’d ever let him know that.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

gojo knew what you were doing the second you started doing it. reverse psychology? seriously? please, he’d been playing that game for years, mostly with girls trying to “tame” him, and he always came out on top. so when you turned that tactic on him in the most mundane, academic context possible, he thought he’d laugh it off.

except, he wasn’t laughing.

it stung. not in the obvious way, like a slap or a scolding — those he could handle with ease. no, this was a slow, persistent sting that gnawed at him. he told himself it was just the principle of the thing. after all, he was gojo satoru. he didn’t get ignored. not by students, not by professors, and definitely not by some assistant professor whose job was to notice him.

so, naturally, he did what he did best: he tried to annoy you back into paying attention to him.

he showed up late with the loudest excuse he could think of, dumped his belongings on the desk noisily, and waved like he hadn’t just interrupted the lecture. “don’t mind me!” he’d said with a grin, as if the entire class wasn’t already staring.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t even pause. just kept writing on the board like he didn’t exist.

then he started asking the most absurd questions in class, his hand shooting up every five minutes. “uh, do you think math could ever, like, save the world? or is it just numbers pretending to be important?”

without missing a beat, you replied, “math can’t save the world, but it might save your grade. if you pay attention, gojo-san.”

still, you didn’t really look at him.

and that’s what got him. no matter what he did — no matter how big his antics got — he felt like you were slipping further away. it was maddening. why was he so perturbed by your lack of attention? it wasn’t like he was starved for it. hell, there were at least three girls giggling at him from the back row, clearly waiting for him to flash a grin their way.

but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

because all he wanted, all he needed, was for you to look at him. just once.

and when you finally did — fleeting, barely a second — he swore it knocked the air clean out of his lungs. it wasn’t a soft, affectionate gaze. it was clinical, assessing, like you were deciding if he was worth wasting your energy on. and yet, it made his heart race like he’d just run a marathon.

he coughed, choking on his own spit like an idiot, and the giggling girls behind him burst into laughter. he barely noticed. his entire brain was short-circuiting because of one tiny glance from you.

oh no, he thought, panic creeping into the edges of his mind.

because if this meant what he thought it meant — if the flutter in his chest and the heat rising to his cheeks were any indication — then he was cooked.

and not in the cool, suave, gojo-satoru-untouchable way. no, he was the other kind of cooked. the pathetic kind. the “i might have it bad for you” kind.

and that? that was unacceptable. because the rules of gojo-ism were clear: no attachments. no crushes. no letting someone get under his skin.

but as he caught himself sneaking another glance your way, only to find you resolutely ignoring him, he realized something even worse.

it was already too late.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

the exhaustion from the week was creeping up on you, and all you wanted was the comfort of home — specifically, a plate of steaming hot rice served just the way you like it: with spices, gravy, and soul. you had a list of places to try, but tonight, your craving led you to a cozy little restaurant tucked into the corner of the town, its windows fogged from the heat of its bustling kitchen.

the moment you stepped in, it was like being transported back home. the air was thick with the scent of turmeric, cumin, and garlic sizzling in oil. old 90’s hits blared from the bose speakers, their crackly charm only adding to the vibe. the tables were covered in laminated menus adorned with bright pictures of curries and rice dishes, and the faint clinking of plates and laughter of families made the place feel alive.

you inhaled deeply, a small smile tugging at your lips as you muttered, “finally, some real food.”

but just as the nostalgia began to settle, so did the chaos.

“auntie, i swear, if you add me on instagram, i’ll give you an extra drink on the house!”

you froze. that voice was unmistakable.

slowly, you turned your head toward the noise, and there he was — gojo satoru, in all his obnoxiously white-haired glory, standing at a table of middle-aged aunties who were giggling like schoolgirls. he was holding a menu in one hand, the other gesturing wildly as he leaned in with his megawatt grin.

your first instinct was to turn around and walk out, but it was too late. his stupid sixth sense or whatever it was must’ve pinged because his gaze snapped to yours.

for a moment, he froze, his grin faltering slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. then, like the human embodiment of chaos he was, he lit up.

“well, well, well,” he said, straightening up and strolling toward you, the menu still clutched in his hand. “if it isn’t assistant professor y/n. what brings you to my establishment?”

you blinked. “your establishment?”

“yepppp,” he said, popping the “p” with a smirk. “i work here now. part-time, of course. y’know, givin’ back to the community and alla that.”

“giving back?” you repeated, skepticism dripping from your tone as you glanced at the aunties still swooning over him.

“what can i say?” he shrugged dramatically. “the people love me. i’m a man of the masses.”

you narrowed your eyes. “last i heard, you said part-time jobs were, and i quote, ‘too lame.’”

“ah, well,” he rubbed the back of his neck, the smirk slipping for just a moment before snapping back into place. “turns out, this place has… sentimental value.”

you raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but before you could press him further, the manager — an older man with a sharp mustache and a no-nonsense attitude — poked his head out from the kitchen.

“boy! less talking, more working!”

“right, right,” gojo called back, waving him off. then, turning to you, he added with an exaggerated bow, “your server for tonight, at your service.”

“oh, god,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“don’t worry,” he said, grinning as he led you to a table near the window. “i’ll make sure your dining experience is unforgettable. five-star service, guaranteed.”

you sat down, glancing around at the restaurant. the energy was warm and lively, the kind of place where families lingered over their meals, and you couldn’t help but relax a little despite gojo’s antics.

but as soon as he returned with the menu, you realized relaxing wasn’t on the agenda tonight.

“so, what’ll it be?” he asked, placing the menu on the table with a flourish.

you reached for it, but he held on, his hand lingering just long enough to make it awkward.

“gojo,” you said flatly.

“right, right,” he said, quickly letting go and stepping back. “just thought i’d help you decide. you know, spice levels, portion sizes, all that jazz.”

“i think i can handle it,” you said, scanning the menu.

he nodded, rocking back on his heels like he had too much energy and no idea what to do with it. “cool, cool, cool. uh, so… how’s the food situation at the dorms? still… uh, bad?”

you looked up, startled by the shift in his tone. was he… making small talk?

“it’s fine,” you said cautiously. “why do you ask?”

“no reason,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck again. “just, you know, wondering. totally normal thing to ask. not weird at all.”

you stared at him, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked… nervous.

“gojo,” you said slowly, “did you…get this job just so you could talk to me outside of class?”

his eyes widened, and for a second, you thought he might actually deny it. but then, to your utter disbelief, he groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“okay, fine,” he admitted, throwing his hands up. “yes, i might’ve suggested to the manager that hiring me would be a strategic move. but can you blame me? you’ve been ignoring me for weeks!”

“oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

“but hey, look,” he said, leaning on the table with that infuriating grin, “it worked, didn’t it? you’re here, we’re talking, and you’re not ignoring me anymore.”

you peeked at him through your fingers. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet,” he said, winking, “you’re still here. coincidence? i think not.”

you couldn’t help it. despite yourself, a laugh escaped you. maybe it was the smell of the spices or the familiar music or the sheer ridiculousness of gojo trying to be suave while fumbling a menu, but for the first time in weeks, you felt… lighter.

“fine,” you said, sitting back with a sigh. “just get me some biryani, and maybe — maybe — i’ll stop ignoring you.”

“coming right up!” he said, snapping his fingers and spinning toward the kitchen.

and as he walked away, practically bouncing with energy, you realized something unsettling.

you didn’t hate this. not as much as you thought you would.

for all his loud boasts and infuriating antics, gojo somehow managed to deliver on his promise of five-star service. you weren't sure whether to be impressed or mildly alarmed by how committed he was to the bit. the complimentary lassi arrived first, its frothy top sprinkled with crushed pistachios and saffron strands.

“on the house,” gojo said, placing it in front of you with a flourish, his grin as bright as ever.

you raised an eyebrow. “on the house? or on your paycheck?”

he clutched his chest in mock offense. “you wound me. can’t a guy just be generous without being interrogated?”

you took a cautious sip, the cool, sweet tang of the lassi immediately soothing your tired soul. okay, maybe he wasn’t completely useless. but you weren’t about to let him know that.

“it’s good,” you said grudgingly, setting the glass down.

“good?” he repeated, looking almost scandalized. “it’s amaaazzing. i personally quality-checked the batch this morning. and by quality-check, i mean stole a glass when no one was looking.”

“why am i not surprised?”

he laughed, loud and carefree, before turning back toward the kitchen. “don’t go anywhere. the main course is coming up, and trust me, it’s gonna blow your mind.”

“i’ve had biryani before, gojo,” you called after him.

he paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder with a wink. “yeah, but you’ve never had biryani here.”

you rolled your eyes, but despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips.

when the biryani finally arrived, it was accompanied by a plate of papad so stacked you thought it might topple over at any moment. gojo set the dishes down with exaggerated care, his expression comically serious.

“i present to you: the finest biryani in town,” he announced, stepping back like a magician revealing his latest trick. “and, of course, an appropriate amount of papad.”

“appropriate?” you said, staring at the pile. “are you trying to feed me or an army?”

“details, details,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.

you took a bite of the biryani, the warm, spiced flavors instantly transporting you back home. for a moment, you forgot where you were, lost in the sheer comfort of the food. gojo, who had been watching you like a hawk, grinned triumphantly.

“knew it,” he said, crossing his arms. “you love it.”

you looked up, your expression neutral. “it’s okay.”

“okay?!” he exclaimed, clutching his head in mock despair. “this is a masterpiece! an edible work of art! you should be weeping tears of joy right now.”

“maybe if you’d actually cooked it, i would,” you shot back.

his grin faltered for the briefest second, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. “give me time,” he said softly, almost to himself.

“what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“nothing!” he said quickly, the grin snapping back into place. “anyway, don’t fill up too much. dessert’s coming.”

“dessert?” you repeated. “i didn’t order dessert.”

“i did,” he said, smirking.

you groaned. “gojo, i —”

“truuuust me,” he interrupted, leaning on the table. “you’ll thank me later.”

and sure enough, minutes later, he returned with not one but four different desserts, ranging from gulab jamun to kulfi.

“are you trying to kill me?” you asked, staring at the spread.

“what? no,” he said, feigning innocence. “just making sure you have options.”

“i grew up eating this stuff, you know,” you said, picking up a spoon.

“yeah, but now you’re eating it here, with me,” he said, his tone oddly earnest.

you looked at him, surprised by the sudden shift. he was still grinning, but there was a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“you’re really going all out, huh?” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

he shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “what can i say? you’re worth it.”

your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he straightened up, the grin back in full force.

“now, hurry up and eat,” he said, waving at the desserts. “i’ve got a reputation to uphold as the best server this place has ever seen.”

you shook your head, laughing despite yourself.

and as you dug into the desserts, gojo lingered nearby, shooing away any other server who dared approach your table.

“she’s got me,” he said to one particularly annoyed coworker. “go help table six.”

you rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t deny that you appreciated the effort.

because for all his theatrics and ridiculousness, gojo was trying. and maybe — just maybe — that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

the air in the restaurant was thick with the aroma of spices, mingling with the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. it felt like a piece of home transplanted into a foreign land, and you couldn’t help but soak it all in. across the room, families leaned into each other, sharing plates and stories, while a gaggle of aunties erupted into loud laughter.

you glanced at them and caught gojo in the middle of an animated retelling of what looked suspiciously like a made-up story. he gestured wildly, miming what might have been a tiger fight or possibly a dramatic fall into a ditch.

“and then,” he said, lowering his voice for dramatic effect, “just as i thought it was all over for me, i —”

“slipped on a banana peel,” one of the aunties interjected, to the uproarious laughter of her companions.

gojo clutched his chest. “how dare you ruin my heroic tale! i was going to say i wrestled the tiger with my bare hands!”

the aunties waved him off, and one of them, a silver-haired woman with a cheeky grin, called out to you. “dear, you need to keep this one in check. he’s too much.”

you snorted, raising your glass in mock salute. “believe me, auntie, i’m trying.”

gojo turned to you with an exaggerated pout. “i thought you were on my side!”

“i’ll be on your side when you stop embellishing your life stories,” you shot back, smirking.

“ouch,” he said, clutching his chest again, this time as if you’d shot him. “right in the heart.”

shaking your head, you turned your attention back to the rest of the room. a group of kids at a nearby table was sneaking curious glances at you. when you caught their eye and made a funny face, they shrieked with laughter, their giggles cutting through the hum of the restaurant.

one of the little girls tugged on her mother’s sleeve and whispered something, and the next thing you knew, she was waving shyly at you. you waved back, smiling, and the shy wave quickly turned into an enthusiastic flurry of hands.

“look at you,” gojo said, leaning against the edge of your table, watching the interaction. “miss popular already.”

“it’s not that hard,” you said, shrugging. “kids are easy. you just have to know how to talk to them.”

“oh yeah?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “and what about me? am i easy to talk to?”

“no,” you said flatly.

he burst out laughing, tilting his head back dramatically. “you wound me again! how many times is that tonight? three? four?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound surprising you. it wasn’t one of those polite, measured laughs you reserved for acquaintances. it was genuine, a sound that seemed to echo somewhere deep inside you, loosening a knot you hadn’t even realized was there.

gojo must have noticed because his expression softened, just for a moment. “you should laugh more,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

you looked at him, startled by the sudden change in tone. “what?”

“you,” he said, gesturing vaguely in your direction. “you’re always so serious. it’s nice to see you, you know…relax.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words caught in your throat. instead, you looked down at your plate, suddenly feeling exposed.

“anyway,” he said, his usual grin slipping back into place. “don’t forget to leave me a glowing review. something like, ‘best server ever, would definitely recommend.’”

you rolled your eyes, the moment broken. “sure, i’ll write that right after ‘most annoying person in the world.’”

“i’ll take it,” he said, laughing as he straightened up.

as you lingered a little longer, watching the bustle of the restaurant and sharing quiet smiles with strangers who felt like kindred spirits, you let out a sigh you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let yourself enjoy this moment. and maybe a little bit of that had to do with gojo.

the restaurant door jingled shut behind you as you adjusted the strap of your jute satchel on your shoulder, the warm scent of spices still lingering on your clothes. the streets were quiet now, a soft breeze carrying the distant hum of city life. you were about to start your walk back to campus when the sound of a dramatic skid on the wooden floor made you pause.

“hey, wait up!” gojo’s voice rang out, followed by the thundering clatter of his sneakers against the floor. you turned just in time to see him stumble slightly as he reached you, grinning like a fool.

“what now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as he bent over, hands on his knees, panting dramatically.

“shift’s over,” he wheezed, straightening up with an exaggerated flourish.

“is it?” you asked skeptically, glancing over his shoulder to see the restaurant manager yelling furiously in a mix of japanese and some choice words that sounded suspiciously similar to the ones your dad and uncles would yell when things went sideways back home.

“absolutely,” gojo said, completely ignoring the manager’s tirade. “and besides, it’s unsafe for you to walk back alone. what kind of guy would i be if i let that happen?”

you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, twitching into a small smile. “oh, please. like anyone would dare mess with me.”

“you’re scary, sure,” gojo said, falling into step beside you. “but even the scariest people need someone to walk them home. it’s, like, basic chivalry.”

“is it basic chivalry to leave your bike at the restaurant?” you asked pointedly, watching as his confident stride faltered for a split second.

“details, details,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “i’ll get it later. this is more important.”

you snorted, clutching your bag tighter as you walked. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, you’re letting me walk with you,” he shot back, grinning. “what does that say about you?”

“it says i’m too tired to argue,” you replied, though your tone lacked any real bite.

gojo stuffed his hands into his pockets, occasionally stumbling over uneven pavement as he talked — no, rambled — about anything and everything. from the latest anime episode he watched to a bizarre dream where he was somehow the ruler of a pancake kingdom.

“and get this,” he said, nearly tripping over his own feet. “the pancakes? they talked. like, actual conversations. one of them was trying to unionize —”

“how do you even come up with this stuff?” you interrupted, shaking your head in disbelief.

“it’s a gift,” he said, flashing you a grin. “i’m a man of many talents.”

“like tripping over your own feet?” you teased as he stumbled yet again.

“it’s called multitasking,” he said, puffing out his chest. “walking and being charming at the same time is no easy feat.”

“you’re definitely failing at one of those,” you muttered, though the warmth in your voice betrayed your amusement.

as you reached the dormitory gates, you stopped, turning to face him. “well, thanks for walking me back. now you can go fetch your bike and actually get home.”

“right, right,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. but he didn’t move, his gaze lingering on you a beat too long.

you tilted your head. “what?”

“nothing!” he said quickly, holding his hands up. “just…y’know. goodnight.”

you rolled your eyes and turned to walk away, only to pause as the realization hit you. “wait a second.”

gojo blinked, confused. “what?”

“you don’t even stay on campus, do you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. “your bike’s still at the restaurant, and you just walked me all the way here. now you have to walk back.”

his grin faltered, replaced by a sheepish expression. “uh…surprise?”

you stared at him, torn between annoyance and something softer that you didn’t want to acknowledge. before you could stop yourself, your hand shot out, delivering a solid whack to his chest.

“idiot,” you muttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you turned away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

gojo, however, was too busy clutching his chest dramatically, a mix of mock pain and genuine delight lighting up his face. “owwww! was that necessary?”

“completely,” you called over your shoulder, refusing to look back.

“ya know,” he said, his voice carrying through the quiet night, “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you’re warming up to me!”

“don’t push your luck,” you shot back, your pace quickening.

as you disappeared into the dorm, gojo stood there, a stupidly wide grin plastered on his face. he pressed a hand to his chest where you’d hit him, feeling the faint ache beneath his palm.

“totally worth it,” he muttered to himself, practically skipping as he turned to start his long walk back.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

gojo satoru had many things in his arsenal — charm, wit, absurd confidence — but subtlety was not one of them. so when he started showing up to campus hours earlier than necessary, or when steaming boxes of samosas began appearing on your desk, the culprit was obvious.

the first time it happened, you’d barely set your bag down before spotting the box, the smell of spiced potatoes and crispy dough wafting up to greet you. your eyes flicked to the door, just in time to catch a streak of white hair and the sound of hurried footsteps retreating down the hall.

inside the box was a sticky note. the handwriting was atrocious, barely legible, and at the bottom was a crude drawing of a tiger that looked more like a cat with a mohawk.

“thought you’d like these. you’re grrr-eat! – g.s. :3”

you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly fell out of your head, but your lips betrayed you, curving into a reluctant smile.

by the end of the week, you had a growing collection of these notes in your desk drawer. one had a lopsided peacock that looked like it had been attacked with a blue highlighter. another had a flower that could generously be called a lotus if you squinted and tilted your head.

the students noticed the change in you almost immediately. your usual stern demeanor softened ever so slightly, and while you were still a stickler for deadlines, you now nodded understandingly at genuine excuses.

“did you hear? professor assistant’s in a mood lately,” a student whispered loudly to their desk mate.

“yeah, but why though?”

“maybe she’s —” the student leaned in dramatically, eyes wide —“dating someone.”

gojo, who had been lounging in the back row pretending to nap, shot upright. “dating? her? no way!” he said, loudly enough for the entire class to hear.

all heads swiveled toward him.

“i mean,” he said, backtracking with an exaggerated wave of his hands, “it’d have to be someone really cool. maybe, like…an alien prince? yeah, that’s it. she’s totally in an intergalactic love affair.”

the class burst into laughter, and while the gossip shifted to debating the plausibility of alien romances, gojo stole a glance at you. you were shaking your head, lips pressed together in what he hoped was an attempt to hide a smile.

it wasn’t just the little gestures, though. gojo had also started reigning in his usual chaos. sure, he still submitted assignments late, but only by a day now, and the answers — stolen from nanami or not — were at least complete. he even started hushing other students when they got too rowdy, shooing them with a dramatic, “respect the queen, peasants,” before earning a chalk stick to the head from you.

“owwwww! abuse!” he’d whine, rubbing his head as the class laughed.

“then stop acting like a child,” you’d retort, though there was no real venom in your words.

one day, after a particularly chaotic lecture, you caught him lingering outside the classroom.

“something you need, satoru?” you asked, crossing your arms.

he froze, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “uh, no! just, um, making sure you’re not, y’know…kidnapped by aliens or something. it’s a dangerous world out there.”

“right.” you raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “and the real reason?”

he hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “just…wanted to see if you liked the samosas.”

you softened, just a fraction. “they were fine. but you don’t have to keep doing this, you know.”

“doing what?”

“whatever this is,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “i don’t need bribes to do my job.”

“it’s not a bribe,” he said quickly. “it’s just…you work hard. too hard, maybe. figured you could use a little something to remind you of home.”

your chest tightened, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“besides,” he added, his grin returning, “i’d never bribe you. i’m saving my bribery skills for the day you actually give me detention.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “get out of here before i reconsider.”

as he walked away, practically skipping, you found yourself clutching your satchel a little tighter, feeling the faint weight of all the silly notes tucked inside.

and gojo? as he left campus that day, he was grinning like an idiot, hand pressed to his chest like he’d just won the lottery. sure, he was falling for you, and yeah, maybe it was a little terrifying. but if falling meant more moments like these, he figured it was worth the risk.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

exam season turned the already bustling campus into a pressure cooker, and you found yourself at the center of it all. drafting question papers, aligning marking schemes, coordinating with the examination department — your plate was not just full; it was overflowing.

amid this chaos came the final straw in the saga of gojo satoru: his ban from the staff room.

it started innocently enough — if delivering steaming boxes of samosas to a restricted area could be called innocent. but when the coordinator raised an eyebrow too many and rumors of "the assistant professor's favorite student" began making rounds, the decision was swift and final.

"satoru, this is the last time. you’re banned from the staff room,” you’d told him sternly, pointing a finger for emphasis.

his response? a dramatic gasp and a hand clutching his chest. “you’re banning me? your number-one supporter? your — your cheerleader?”

“yes. cheer me on from a distance,” you said, turning away before he could see the twitch of your lips.

what followed was a week of gojo-level theatrics. he’d pout like a scolded puppy when you walked by, groaning loudly to anyone who’d listen. “my heart’s been broken,” he’d lament to his classmates, sprawling across desks like a tragic hero. “she cast me out. me!”

by day four, you were done.

you found him loitering by the library, feet propped on a bench like he owned the place, a pair of obnoxiously bright sunglasses perched on his nose.

“gojo,” you said, arms crossed.

he sat up straight at your tone, glasses sliding down his nose. “yes, teach?”

“why are you making such a big deal out of this?” you demanded, exasperation lacing your voice.

“because it is a big deal,” he shot back, standing now, his height making you tilt your head slightly to meet his gaze. “do you know how stupid i feel? sneaking into staff rooms, drawing peacocks that look like roadkill, trying to get you to notice me — just for you to shut me out? it sucks, okay?”

his words hung in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless.

you weren’t good with emotions — back home, vulnerability was a luxury few could afford. confrontation wasn’t much better. and yet, here you were, faced with both.

“satoru, it’s not —” you started, faltering as his gaze bore into yours, uncharacteristically earnest.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “look, i… i appreciate what you’ve done. the effort, the —” you gestured vaguely, “ — everything. but this is a professional setting, and you make it really hard to keep things, well, professional.”

his lips quirked up at that, a hint of his usual cockiness returning. “so, you’re saying i’m distracting?”

“don’t push it,” you warned, though your tone lacked heat.

he took a step closer, his grin softening. “i get it. i do. but, y’know… you could’ve just said ‘thank you.’”

you rolled your eyes. “thank you, gojo. for the samosas. and the terrible art.”

“you’re welcome,” he said, stepping back with a mock bow, the tension between you easing ever so slightly.

as you turned to leave, he called after you, “but, hey, just so you know… i’m not giving up. banned or not.”

you didn’t look back, but the small smile tugging at your lips gave you away entirely.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

you stared at the stack of papers on your desk, each one a potential pandora’s box of missed grammar, nonsensical arguments, and uninspired prose. english papers were always a minefield, and you had somehow drawn the short straw for grading them this term. but it wasn’t just the sheer volume of work that made your stomach churn.

it was gojo’s essay.

his name glared at you from the corner of the page like a taunt.

you sighed, running your thumb along the edges of the papers, already bracing yourself for the absurdity to come. he wasn’t exactly known for his academic prowess, and his past submissions had ranged from thinly veiled comedy skits to outright gibberish disguised as poetry.

but as you started reading, your brow furrowed.

"yearning," it began, in unusually elegant script.

his handwriting was still a little messy, but there was care behind each stroke, like he had taken extra time to make it legible.

the essay itself, though…

at first, you thought it was a joke. some elaborate prank he’d written to make you second-guess your sanity.

“yearning is the ache of a soul reaching for something it knows it shouldn’t want but can’t bear to let go of.”

you paused, scanning the words again, waiting for the punchline. it didn’t come. instead, the essay unfolded into something — god help you — poignant.

gojo described yearning as a quiet, persistent tug. an itch in the chest that worsened in silence and swelled in proximity. he wrote about the way it demanded attention, yet he danced around the specifics, cloaking his examples in poetic vagueness.

“it’s the way someone’s voice lingers in your mind even when they’re scolding you. it’s noticing the shape of their smile, even if it’s not meant for you. it’s knowing they’d call you a fool for feeling this way and somehow wanting to hear it anyway.”

you blinked at the page, heart stuttering as the words sunk in. this wasn’t just any essay.

it was about you.

you fought the urge to throw the paper aside, suddenly hyper aware of the way your pulse quickened.

“yearning is seeing someone’s dedication to the world and wanting, selfishly, to be a part of it. to have them look at you with the same seriousness they reserve for their passions. but it’s also knowing that some things are too good to reach for — that trying might ruin the very thing you admire.”

you sat back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as a wave of emotions rolled through you.

was this… sincere?

was it some convoluted joke? a test to see how far he could push you?

but the writing was too raw, too heartfelt to be a simple prank. you could feel him in the words, the way he stumbled through emotions he probably didn’t fully understand.

and yet, there was still that hint of gojo: the irreverence, the humor.

“yearning is stupid, really. because no one wins. either you tell them, and it’s weird, or you don’t, and you’re stuck writing essays about it like some tragic hero in a bad movie.”

you snorted despite yourself, rubbing a hand over your face.

what were you supposed to do with this?

your instincts screamed at you to fail him. this was wildly off-topic, an indulgence of personal feelings instead of academic analysis.

but another part of you — the part that softened at his ridiculous peacock drawings and earnest (if misplaced) attempts to make you smile — couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

you picked up your pen and, after a long moment of deliberation, scribbled a tentative B- in red ink. it wasn’t an outright failure, but it wasn’t exactly encouragement either.

as you set the paper aside, your thoughts swirled, torn between exasperation and something you didn’t want to name.

because even if you didn’t want to admit it, his words had reached you in ways you weren’t prepared to confront.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

when gojo walked into class that day, his usual swagger was amplified tenfold. he was practically glowing, strutting past his peers with his essay held aloft like a trophy. the grin plastered on his face was so wide, it threatened to split his face in half.

“behold, ladies and gentlemen,” he declared, tapping his paper against nanami’s head for good measure, “the masterpiece that is my essay. highest grade i’ve ever gotten. third highest in the entire grade.” he puffed his chest out dramatically, looking at you as if expecting a standing ovation.

nanami rolled his eyes, snatching the paper from gojo’s hands to inspect it. “an a-minus isn’t exactly groundbreaking, satoru.”

gojo gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. “it is when it’s me, nanami! you don’t understand the emotional labor that went into this! the blood, the sweat, the tears —”

“the copied half of my notes, you mean,” nanami muttered, handing the paper back.

you tried to focus on setting up the lesson, suppressing the urge to smirk. his antics were nothing new, but this time, you couldn’t help but feel a faint tug of pride, even if it was mingled with irritation.

when it was finally time to hand back the essays, you made your way down the rows, handing out graded papers with your usual neutral expression. but when you reached gojo, his bright, expectant eyes locked on yours, you hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

you handed him the paper, your fingers brushing his momentarily, and he took it with both hands, holding it up like it was a sacred artifact.

“a b-minus bumped up to an a-minus,” he said with a faux gasp, loud enough for the entire class to hear. “why, teach, you playing favorites?”

you shot him a warning look, but it only made his grin grow wider.

“don’t push it, gojo,” you said evenly, though your tone lacked its usual edge.

he leaned back in his chair, still gloating as he turned the paper over and over in his hands. but behind the theatrics, you caught the flicker of something genuine in his expression — a quiet kind of satisfaction that spoke louder than his words ever could.

to everyone else, his boasting was just another act. but to you, it felt like something more, like he was seeking validation in the only way he knew how.

and for some reason, that thought lingered long after class ended.

when the bell rang, gojo didn’t rush out like the others. instead, he waited until the room was nearly empty, shuffling awkwardly near your desk.

“soooo, uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck, “you read it, huh? like… really read it?”

you didn’t look up from the stack of papers you were organizing. “i wouldn’t have graded it if i hadn’t.”

he let out a dramatic sigh, slumping against the desk. “not what i meant. did you get it? like… the deeper meaning?”

you finally glanced up, meeting his gaze. his usual bravado was still there, but there was something softer underneath it, something almost nervous.

“i got it,” you said quietly, and for once, he didn’t have a snarky comeback.

his grin softened, and he straightened up, spinning the paper in his hands again. “cool. just… cool.”

and with that, he left, his usual bounce in his step. but as he reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder, giving you a look that said more than words ever could.

you shook your head, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. whatever this was between you and gojo, it was unspoken and strange, but maybe, for now, it didn’t need to be anything else.

and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

it was a rare sunny day on campus, and most students were sprawled out on the grassy fields, reveling in the freedom of post-exam bliss. the air buzzed with chatter and laughter, a stark contrast to the usually tense corridors filled with murmurs of last-minute cramming. and yet, instead of being the ringleader of some over-the-top celebration, gojo was trailing behind you like a shadow, a paper box of samosas balanced precariously in one hand and a bottle of mango lassi in the other.

“seriously, gojo,” you said, glancing back at him. “don’t you have somewhere else to be? like, i don’t know, with your friends?”

“what, and miss the chance to see you enjoy my samosas?” he quipped, flashing that obnoxiously bright grin. “besides, i’m everyone’s favorite. they’ll be fine without me for a bit.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t shoo him away. in truth, the quiet after exams was unnerving, and his chatter filled the void in a way that was oddly comforting.

at some point, he insisted on feeding you. the first few times, you outright refused, giving him a look that could curdle milk. but then, for reasons you couldn’t quite fathom — maybe the post-exam haze, maybe the sheer persistence in his puppy-dog eyes — you caved.

“fine,” you relented, leaning slightly forward. “but if you drop even one crumb —”

“relaaax,” he said, his voice dipping into something annoyingly smooth. “you’re in good hands.”

and to his credit, he was careful, holding the samosa with an exaggerated delicacy as if it were made of glass. you bit into it, the crunch loud in the quiet that had suddenly fallen between you two.

he beamed like he’d just won a nobel prize. “seeee? told you i’d make the experience unforgettable.”

“unforgettable, my ass,” you said, brushing crumbs from your lips.

gojo laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained, drawing a few glances from passersby. “you just admitted i’m unforgettable. it’s okay, teach, you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore.”

you smacked his arm lightly, and he let out a mock yelp, clutching it as if you’d injured him.

the box was gone faster than you expected, mostly thanks to gojo’s bottomless pit of a stomach. he flashed you a sheepish grin, crumbs still clinging to the corners of his mouth.

“uhhh… i think i ate more than half,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“think?” you snorted, shaking your head.

the two of you started walking aimlessly around campus, the kind of companionable silence that only came after shared food and banter settling between you.

at one point, gojo said something so utterly ridiculous — something about how samosas were the perfect metaphor for love, with layers of spice and warmth. you snorted so hard, you nearly tripped, your laughter ringing out clear and unfiltered.

“god, you’re such an idiot,” you said, whacking his chest lightly, only to immediately regret it.

why was his chest that solid? it was like hitting a brick wall wrapped in a hoodie.

“owww,” he said dramatically, rubbing the spot as if you’d actually hurt him. then, before you could pull your hand back, he caught your wrist.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice losing its usual playful lilt.

you froze. his hand was warm around your wrist, his touch firm but gentle, and when you looked up, his eyes were — god, they were so blue, it was like staring into a summer sky.

the world around you seemed to blur, the distant hum of campus life fading into nothing as he took a half-step closer.

“you ever notice how weird this feels?” he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically quiet. “like… i’m standing here, and you’re right here, but it still doesn’t feel close enough.”

his forehead brushed against yours, and suddenly, you forgot how to breathe. the space between you was practically nonexistent, and yet, it felt like he was somehow closing a gap you didn’t even realize was there.

“gojo…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but the rest of the words died in your throat.

“satoru,” he corrected softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

the proximity was overwhelming, every detail amplified — the faint scent of whatever cologne he wore, the way his lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“don’t worry,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, “i’m not gonna kiss you. not unless you want me to, of course. i’m not that forward.”

the laugh that bubbled out of you was equal parts disbelief and nervousness. “you’re literally the most forward person i’ve ever met.”

“yeah, but not with you,” he admitted, and the sincerity in his voice made your heart stutter.

you pulled back slightly, breaking the moment before it could swallow you whole. “you’re such a drama queen.”

“and yet, you still stick around,” he teased, his grin returning, but this time, it felt softer, less of a mask and more of a truth.

as you walked back to your dorm, his hand brushed against yours, and though neither of you said anything, the warmth lingered long after he’d waved goodbye.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

it was a friday night, the campus buzzing with whispers of the party of the semester. gojo’s name was on every other tongue, along with exaggerated promises of free drinks, loud music, and the type of chaos only he could orchestrate. you tried to brush it off as you walked past clusters of students gossiping on the quad.

“you comin’, miss?” one of your more confident students called out, giving you a cheeky grin.

“unlikely,” you replied, raising an eyebrow but offering a small smile. “don’t think i’d blend in at a college party.”

“oh, trust me,” another chimed in, “you’d be the star of the night. even gojo would agree.”

you waved them off, feigning nonchalance, but the comment lingered.

it wasn’t like you wanted to go to his stupid party. you were a teacher, not some college kid with zero inhibitions. and yet, there was something about the idea of gojo hosting this wild bash, completely in his element, that gnawed at you.

you sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror. the bindi perched perfectly on your forehead, your jhumkas catching the light as you moved. why not? you were in japan — far from home, far from prying eyes, and definitely far from anyone who’d lecture you about propriety.

dressed in a fusion of your traditional style and something a bit more casual, you hailed a cab, heart racing as you approached the house blaring music loud enough to rattle the street.

the party was exactly what you expected — students spilling out onto the porch, laughter and music mixing with the smell of cheap alcohol. heads turned as you walked in, your attire catching more than a few curious glances.

you ignored the whispers, stepping further into the house. the atmosphere was electric — lights flashing, bodies swaying, drinks being passed around.

and then you spotted him.

gojo was in the middle of it all, a drink in hand and a stupidly wide grin on his face. his glasses were slightly askew, and his cheeks were flushed, the telltale signs of someone thoroughly drunk.

you were about to turn and leave — because clearly, this was a terrible idea — when his voice rang out.

“oh. my. god,” he said, pointing vaguely in your direction. “you look… so familiar!”

you froze. surely, he wasn’t —

“no, seriously!” he stumbled closer, squinting at you. “you remind me of someone. someone important.”

he was too close now, his breath smelling faintly of vodka and whatever sweet mixer he’d drowned it in.

“you’re drunk, satoru,” you said, your voice steady despite the laughter bubbling up inside.

“i’m not that drunk!” he protested, swaying slightly. “okay, maybe a little. but listen! you look just like — like her!”

“her?” you prompted, folding your arms and trying not to smirk.

“yes, her!” he exclaimed, his voice dipping into something uncharacteristically soft. “she’s… she’s amazing. drives me insane, but in a good way, ya know? like, i wanna punch a wall and write poetry at the same time.”

“sounds intense,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“it isss! she’s so smart, and — and kind, but also terrifying,” he continued, his words slurring slightly. “she doesn’t take my shit, which is honestly hot as hell. and her laugh — oh my god, her laugh! s’like… like a warm hug, but for your ears.”

you bit your lip, trying to hold back your laughter. “sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

“i doooooo!” he groaned dramatically, leaning against the wall for support. “but she doesn’t even like me! well, maybe she does? sometimes? she whacked me the other day, and i think that’s a good sign.”

at that, you couldn’t help it — you burst out laughing, the sound lost in the thrum of the party. gojo blinked at you, his expression shifting from confusion to dawning realization.

“wait a second…” he said, leaning closer, squinting as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “no way.”

“yes, way,” you said, your laughter subsiding into a soft chuckle.

his jaw dropped, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“oh my god,” he finally managed. “you’re her! you’re you!”

“brilliant observation,” you teased.

he groaned, covering his face with one hand. “this is so embarrassing. please tell me you didn’t hear all of that.”

“every word,” you said, grinning.

“kill me now,” he muttered, sliding down the wall dramatically.

“don’t worry,” you said, crouching down to his level. “i’ll keep your little rant our secret.”

he peeked through his fingers, his cheeks somehow even redder. “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“maybe,” you admitted, standing up and offering him a hand. “come on, let’s get you some water before you embarrass yourself further.”

he took your hand, his grip surprisingly steady despite his inebriated state. “thanks… for not, like, running away or something. you’re cool, you know that?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling nonetheless.

as you led him toward the kitchen, you couldn’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — this ridiculously charming idiot was starting to grow on you.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

gojo wanted to be anywhere but here.

okay, scratch that — he wanted to be here, with you, but also wanted to dig a hole in his living room floor and yeet himself into it. his brain, muddled with alcohol, was doing its best to keep things together, but with you suddenly here — looking like that — his chances were rapidly dwindling.

he adjusted his arm around your waist, a loose but deliberate gesture that made his heart stutter. it was a casual hold, or at least he hoped it looked casual, but the warmth of your body pressed lightly against his side was sending his brain into overdrive.

“and this,” he said, gesturing grandly with his free hand to what was very clearly the kitchen, “is where the magic happens.”

“the kitchen?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your lips quirked into a smile that had his knees dangerously close to giving out.

“obviously?!” he said, leaning into the theatrics to keep himself from spiraling. “you see that microwave? legendary. best instant ramen in town. and that fridge? it’s seen things. horrors, really. we don’t talk about it.”

you laughed, and he swore it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“right, sure,” you said, shaking your head. “what about actual food? do you ever cook anything that’s not from a packet?”

he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “are you accusing me — me — of being a heathen who doesn’t know his way around a kitchen? i’ll have you know, i make a mean lassi.”

“oh, do you now?” you teased, clearly enjoying his antics.

“absolutely,” he said, grinning. “one day, i’ll prove it to you. you’ll be begging me to cook for you every day.”

“we’ll see,” you said, but there was a softness in your voice that made him wonder if you actually meant it.

his heart was racing now, the alcohol loosening his tongue in dangerous ways. he should probably stop talking. any second now.

“you know,” he said, his voice dropping slightly as he glanced down at you, “i can’t believe you came.”

“why wouldn’t i?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him, your expression curious but open.

he wanted to say because i thought you’d never want to be in the same space as me outside of class, but that felt too raw, too real. so instead, he shrugged, trying to play it off.

“i dunno,” he said, looking ahead. “you just… don’t seem like the house party type.”

“i’m not, usually,” you admitted. “but… i figured, why not? life’s too short to say no to everything.”

“huh,” he said, his voice softer now. “that’s… cool. you’re cool.”

“am i?” you asked, laughing lightly.

“so cool,” he said earnestly, and then immediately wanted to slap himself. shut up, satoru. shut. up.

but then you smiled at him, and he thought maybe he didn’t mind sounding like an idiot if it meant he got to see that look on your face.

as the two of you tried to navigate the packed living room, someone bumped into him, and instinctively, his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer. you didn’t pull away, and he was pretty sure his heart was about to explode.

he tried not to think about how you fit so perfectly against his side, or how your scent — something faintly floral and familiar — was making him dizzy. he definitely tried not to think about how easy it would be to lean down and —

nope nope nope. bad idea. terrible idea. the worst idea.

“you okay?” you asked, looking up at him with a hint of concern.

“y-yeah!” he said, his voice a little too high-pitched. he cleared his throat, forcing a grin. “totally fine. just, uh, making sure you don’t get trampled.”

“how chivalrous,” you said, the corner of your mouth twitching as if you were holding back a laugh.

“always,” he said, his grin widening despite himself.

but inside, he was panicking. this was too much. you were too close, too warm, too everything. he needed to get his shit together before he did something stupid, like —

confess to you.

kiss you.

pass out.

or, god forbid, all three.

oh shit.

the bass thudded in your chest, a constant pulse that seemed to sync with the frenetic energy of the house. people were dancing, shouting, laughing, and the chaos around you was almost comforting in its anonymity. that is until satoru — flushed, swaying slightly, and clearly far more drunk than you’d initially realized — gripped your arm like it was a lifeline.

“i need to tell you something,” he blurted, his words loud but barely cutting through the music.

you blinked at him, trying to read his expression in the flickering multicolored lights. “what?” you shouted back, leaning closer to hear him.

he leaned in too, his mouth near your ear. “i said, i need to tell you something!”

“okay! so tell me!” you yelled back, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“i…” he trailed off, his face scrunching up in frustration as he tried to string his thoughts together. he took a deep breath and then, to your utter horror, yelled at the top of his lungs, “I LIKE YOU!”

you froze, sure you’d misheard him. the bass was too loud, the room too crowded, and his words had gotten lost somewhere in the noise.

“what?!” you shouted, your voice rising in disbelief.

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red— n ot just from the alcohol, you suspected. “I SAID —”

but even in his drunken state, he realized the futility of trying to out-shout the music. with a sound of pure exasperation, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you through the crowd. your protests fell on deaf ears as he led you to a slightly quieter corner, away from the worst of the noise.

“what are you doing, gojo?!” you hissed, but he didn’t answer.

instead, he pressed you gently against the wall, his palms flat against the surface on either side of your head, caging you in. his head dipped low, his nose brushing against yours, and your breath caught as his blue eyes, even hazy with alcohol, locked onto yours.

“i said,” he murmured, his voice lower now but no less intense, “i like you.”

your brain barely had time to register the words before he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. it was desperate, clumsy, and so full of unspoken emotion that it stole the air from your lungs.

you gasped against him, your hands instinctively coming up to grip his shoulders. the solid warmth of him under your fingers was grounding, but the way his body pressed against yours, shielding you from the world, sent your heart into a frenzy.

his lips moved against yours with an urgency that bordered on possessive, and when he tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, a small sound escaped you — something between a gasp and a moan.

that was when he pulled back, just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged.

“don’t… don’t pull away,” he whispered, and the vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache.

“gojo —”

“call me satoru,” he cut in, his eyes fluttering shut as if even saying the words was too much. “please.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, his body seemed to sway, his weight leaning more heavily against you.

“satoru, are you okay?” you asked, your hands sliding to his chest to steady him.

“huh?” he mumbled, his voice distant. then, with a slight slur, he muttered, “oh, no. no, no, no —”

and just like that, the man crumpled.

“satoru!” you yelped, barely managing to catch his ridiculously lanky frame before he hit the floor completely.

someone nearby shouted, “man down!” and the phrase seemed to echo through the room, followed by a ripple of concerned and amused voices.

“oh my god,” you muttered, crouching down beside him. his head lolled slightly, and his mouth was parted as he let out a faint snore.

he was out cold.

you pressed a hand to your face, your cheeks still burning from the kiss. the memory of his lips on yours was vivid enough to make your knees weak, but the reality of the situation — of this ridiculously tall, ridiculously dramatic man passing out at your feet — brought you crashing back down to earth.

“can someone help me with this idiot?” you called out, your voice tinged with equal parts exasperation and concern.

a couple of guys came over, one of them laughing as he said, “dude’s got no tolerance, huh?”

“none,” you muttered, sighing as you tried to get a grip on yourself — and satoru. his confession and the kiss replayed in your mind, and you knew you were in for a long night of trying to sort out your feelings.

for now, though, you had to deal with the immediate problem of hauling his ridiculously heavy frame to a couch. the emotional fallout could wait until tomorrow.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

the room had descended into a chaotic mess of unsolicited advice, mostly coming from half-drunk college students who thought they were experts on everything, including reviving a passed-out satoru.

“try shaking him harder!” someone shouted.

“just pour water on his face!” another chimed in.

“give him coffee. wait, do we even have coffee?”

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. amidst all this nonsense, nanami stood off to the side, arms crossed, his expression screaming this is beneath me.

“he’s not dead. just let him sleep it off,” kento said flatly, his voice cutting through the chatter.

“oh, thanks for the revolutionary advice, nanami,” you snapped, the sarcasm lacing your words.

then there was geto, leaning against the wall with an air of detached amusement. “honestly, i knew this would happen. saw it coming a mile away,” he said, flipping his hair dramatically.

“yeah? well, maybe next time warn the rest of us,” you shot back before turning your attention back to satoru’s unconscious form.

you knelt beside him, sighing deeply. “alright, everyone back off. i know how to handle this.”

“what are you gonna do?” someone asked, curious.

“something tried and tested.” you raised your hand high and delivered a firm slap across satoru’s cheek.

the sound was loud. so loud, in fact, that the room collectively gasped.

satoru bolted upright, clutching his face as if you’d just smacked the soul out of him. “what the hell was that?!” he screamed, his voice loud enough to rival the bass music that was still pounding in the background.

“welcome back to the land of the living, drama queen,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

“did you just slap me?!” he exclaimed, his wide, watery eyes staring at you like you’d betrayed him.

“oh, i’m sorry, was that not enough? i can do it again,” you said, raising your hand threateningly.

“no, no! i’m good! fully awake!” he yelped, scooting back like a scared puppy.

“good. now drink this,” you said, handing him a bottle of water.

satoru grabbed it, but instead of drinking, he sniffed it suspiciously. “this isn’t vodka, right?”

“no, genius,” nanmi said, stepping forward and plucking the actual vodka bottle from the floor. “this is vodka, and you’re done with it.”

“oh, c’mon, nanaminnnn, don’t be such a killjooyyyy!” satoru whined, though his pout faltered when you shot him a glare.

“shut up and drink the water, satoru,” you snapped.

he obeyed, gulping it down dramatically before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “ugh, water’s so boring.”

“you want excitement? i’ll slap you again,” you threatened, and a few people in the room snickered.

“you’re so mean,” satoru muttered, but then his gaze softened. “wait… you stayed.”

you blinked. “what?”

“you stayed,” he repeated, his voice quieter now. “even after… you know.”

“oh, you mean the part where you screamed out a love confession, kissed me like your life depended on it, and then passed out in front of half the student body?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t remind me,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “i wanna die. nanamin, can you just — i don’t know — throw me out a window or something?”

“tempting,” kento muttered.

“look, dork,” you said, kneeling back down in front of him. “you’re not getting out of this one. you did all that, and now you have to deal with the consequences.”

“oh god,” satoru mumbled, peeking at you through his fingers. “what are the consequences?”

you tilted your head, pretending to think. “well, for starters, you owe me samosas for the rest of the semester.”

“done,” he said immediately.

“and,” you added, leaning in slightly, “you have to stop being such a dramatic idiot.”

“that one’s harder,” he said, flashing you a sheepish grin. “but for you? i’ll try.”

“good.” you stood up, brushing off your knees. “now, get your act together. and maybe next time, don’t drink yourself into oblivion before confessing to someone.”

“wait, does that mean —” he started, his eyes lighting up.

“i didn’t say anything!” you cut him off, walking away as the room erupted into laughter at his bewildered expression.

“she likes me,” satoru whispered to himself, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

“oh, shut up, satoru,” nanami said, but even he couldn’t entirely hide his smirk.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

it was almost miraculous, really, how none of these college kids managed to piece together the details of what actually went down at gojo’s house party. you’d think with all the drunken chaos, someone would’ve remembered you storming in like a heroine, slapping satoru awake, and then, well, the incident. but no. all they seemed to retain was that the super cool, smoking-hot assistant professor had swooped in to save satoru from... something.

the specifics? conveniently erased from their collective memory, thanks to cheap vodka and loud bass.

but you? you weren’t so lucky. gojo’s confession — or whatever that messy string of drunken words and one life-altering kiss could be categorized as — played on a loop in your head. not that you wanted it to, but come on, how were you supposed to forget the feel of his lips against yours, the way he’d pressed you against the wall like he couldn’t get close enough? and then, the audacity of the man to crumple to the floor like a marionette whose strings were cut? you still couldn’t decide if you wanted to slap him again or — ugh, no, you weren’t finishing that thought.

“stop,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your temples as you sat at your desk, the pile of papers you were supposed to grade staring back at you accusingly. “focus. you’re an adult, not a hormonal teenager.”

and yet, that little voice in your head — your grandma’s voice, no less — crooned in your mind, “what kind of boy is he? does he play cricket? is he an engineer?”

“no,” you grumbled under your breath, “he’s an overgrown man-child who flirts through samosas and makes me question my entire existence.”

the reality of it all was... you weren’t equipped for someone like gojo. back home, dating was simple. boring, but simple. you liked someone because they played cricket well or because their math grades could rival einstein’s. the bar was low, and your teenage self still barely scraped over it.

but satoru? he wasn’t just attractive in that this-is-gonna-get-me-into-trouble kind of way. no, he was ridiculously charming, stupidly funny, and utterly chaotic — so much so that he somehow managed to bulldoze his way past every defense you’d painstakingly built.

and that left you here, with a pile of grading untouched, your thoughts veering dangerously off-course.

what do i even do with him? you thought. he’s not even the type i should go for. he’s immature, irresponsible, a complete disaster of a human being…

... and yet, all you could picture was his stupidly lopsided grin when you’d handed back his essay. that grin that said, you gave me a B-, but i’m taking this as an A+ in your heart.

and then your mind went straight to climbing him. like a tree. a tall, stupid tree with an even stupider face.

“oh my god,” you muttered, dropping your head onto the desk. “get it together, girl.”

you groaned into the wood grain, mentally kicking yourself. this was getting out of hand. you needed to lock it in. focus. channel your inner no-nonsense professor and figure out how to deal with gojo without losing what little composure you had left.

and maybe — just maybe — figure out how the hell you were supposed to climb a man-child and maintain your dignity in the process.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

gojo had been avoiding you — not intentionally, of course. he would never do that on purpose. it was just… he was terrified.

gojo satoru, the guy who could ace a test he barely studied for, host the best parties on campus, and make a joke out of literally any situation, was absolutely crumbling under the weight of his own feelings. gojoism did not account for feelings like this. and yesterday? he’d completely fallen — literally and emotionally. now, there wasn’t a subreddit or thread in existence that could save him from the mess he’d created.

his shift was dragging, a mix of customers and yelling from his half-indian, half-japanese manager filling the air. his coworkers kept glancing at him like he was a stray dog caught in the rain, but he didn’t care. he was in the middle of wiping down tables when he caught sight of you through the window.

you. walking by. not even glancing toward the restaurant.

his heart sank. did you hate him now? was this how it was going to end?

without thinking, gojo bolted out the door, ignoring the string of colorful curses his manager hurled at him. “oi, boy! you’re paying for this if you don’t get your ass back here!”

he didn’t stop. the second he caught up to you, he practically tackled you from behind, arms wrapping around you so tightly you almost dropped your satchel.

“what the hell, gojo —”

“please don’t move!” he blurted, his face buried in your shoulder and neck, his lanky limbs curling around you like some desperate octopus. you froze, unsure whether to be annoyed, amused, or alarmed.

“are you serious right now?”

“yes! extremely!” his voice was muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “listen, i’m an idiot. the biggest idiot ever. i shouldn’t have kissed you like that while i was drunk. or passed out. or confessed. or all three. god, that was so stupid. i’m so stupid.”

you sighed, your heart racing at how tightly he held you. “satoru, what are you doing?”

“i’m fixing this. please, just — lemme say this. properly this time.” he tightened his hold even more, as if letting go wasn’t an option. “i like you. a lot. like, so much it’s actually pathetic. and i know i’m a dumbass most of the time, and i mess things up, but i promise i’m serious about you. so, like… if you don’t feel the same way, you can say no. just don’t hate me, okay? i can’t deal with you hating me.”

you felt his breath against your neck, his voice wavering just enough to make your chest ache.

“satoru…” you started, turning your head slightly to glance at him, his stupidly handsome face now fully pressed against you.

“say something,” he mumbled, the weight of his confession sinking deeper into the air.

you turned in his arms, making him loosen his grip just enough for you to face him. his blue eyes were wide and unsure, a rare sight from the usually cocky gojo satoru.

“you done?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“uh… yeah?” he said, unsure.

without another word, you grabbed his collar, pulling him down to meet you as your lips pressed against his. the world seemed to fade away — his coworkers, the restaurant, the yelling manager. all of it dissolved as he melted into the kiss, his hands sliding down to hold your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

when you finally broke apart, his lips parted in shock, his cheeks flushed. “wait, does this mean —”

“yes, you absolute idiot,” you huffed, shoving at his chest lightly, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

he grinned, wide and stupid. “i knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“oh, shut up before i change my mind.”

“never,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again, completely ignoring the cheers of his coworkers from the restaurant door.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

did you expect to be leaving japan with a full-grown manchild trailing behind you? absolutely not. but here you were. did you expect to cheer for said manchild when he finally got his degree? obviously. the man deserved it — barely, but he did.

you’d both agreed to keep things under wraps, citing the whole student-teacher dynamic as a big no-no. so, of course, when the graduation ceremony rolled around, satoru had to make things dramatic. he dropped to one knee — mid-stage — held his degree out like a trophy, and loudly declared, “this is my phd in loving you!”

“that’s not a phd, satoru,” you muttered, face buried in your hands as the crowd chuckled.

“close enough!” he beamed, earning a mix of applause and groans from his peers.

graduation break was spent in the usual push and pull — you pushing him away from his over-the-top antics, him pulling you right back into his orbit with that ridiculous grin. every time his pout got too exaggerated, you’d give him a quick kiss just to shut him up, which only made things worse because he’d cheer. cheer. in public. like a child who just got a gold star.

“you’re the worst,” you mumbled after one particularly dramatic cheer, covering your face as passersby laughed at his antics.

“and yet, here you are, willingly in my presence,” he shot back, smug as ever.

“god help me,” you groaned.

satoru, of course, wasn’t just sunshine and chaos with you — he had this annoying charm that endeared him to literally everyone. the aunties who came by the restaurant giggled like teenagers when he served them, and the little kids gathered around him like he was a walking anime character. “white-haired older brother” became his unofficial nickname, and satoru leaned into it hard, regaling them with wildly exaggerated tales of his life.

“and then, i fought off a gang of ninjas to save her,” he’d say, winking in your direction.

“satoru, stop lying to children!”

he’d just shrug, grinning wider. “it’s not lying if it’s entertaining.”

it was funny how he’d originally gotten the part-time job just to talk to you, but now he genuinely liked it. still, some habits died hard — he continued to bring you samosas daily, despite your protests.

“satoru, if you don’t stop, i’m going to develop a permanent aversion to these,” you warned, eyeing the familiar paper bag he held out to you.

“blasphemy!” he gasped, clutching the bag to his chest like you’d insulted his firstborn.

eventually, he started pestering you about meeting your parents.

“so, when can i meet them?” he asked one afternoon, grinning like he’d already been invited.

“never,” you deadpanned, whacking him on the chest for good measure.

unbeknownst to him, you’d already told your parents about him. they were eager to meet the man who’d apparently stolen your heart and managed to survive your stubbornness.

all in due time, though. for now, satoru could continue proudly showing off his “phd in loving you.” and maybe, just maybe, you were okay with letting him.

⟡ ₊ . ༄

[epilogue]

it felt almost surreal how gojo transitioned from serving at the restaurant to outright owning it. the previous manager had retired with teary eyes, handing the keys over to satoru with a heartfelt, “please, i beg you, don’t ruin this place. my wife and kids will haunt you if you do.”

gojo, in true fashion, had laughed, draping an arm around the man. “don’t worry! i’ll make this place legendary. maybe even name it after me.”

“over my dead body!” the manager had shot back.

and, of course, satoru didn’t miss the chance to ask you, “so, when’s it gonna be us? two kids, a little restaurant legacy — what do you say?”

you smacked him on the back of his head, rolling your eyes. “focus on not burning the place down first, romeo.”

under gojo’s ownership, the restaurant thrived — though not without his signature flair. he introduced a new “special offer,” one that quickly turned into a local superstition: if two people shared a plate of samosas, they’d fall in love, and their love life would prosper.

“just like us,” gojo would tease every chance he got, holding up a plate dramatically.

“you’re insufferable,” you’d reply, trying not to laugh.

but you couldn’t argue with results, especially after dragging this white-haired menace home to meet your parents. they’d absolutely adored him, of course, stuffing him with so much food you swore he left glowing.

“your mom’s cooking? divine. i’d marry you just for the biryani,” he joked, leaning back against the car seat as you drove to the airport.

“good to know your priorities,” you shot back, though your smile betrayed your words.

and as much as satoru joked about weddings and kids, the two of you agreed there was no rush. after all, between the restaurant, his endless antics, and your job, life was already chaotic enough. not that gojo made your work any easier — especially during exam season.

“paper checking is ruining us,” he’d complain dramatically, sprawled across the couch as you ignored him in favor of a particularly stubborn essay.

“us?” you raised an eyebrow, not looking up.

“yes, us,” he insisted, standing up to scoop you into his lap without warning.

“satoru!”

“what? if you’re gonna ignore me, at least let me help,” he said, plopping a spoonful of biryani in your mouth.

you glared at him, but he just grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. and as much as you hated to admit it, moments like this were when you realized just how good life was.

chaotic? absolutely. ridiculous? always. but trading it for anything else? not a chance.

217 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 2 months ago

Text

✨Taking her in - Pt. 4✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language

Word Count: 5034

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

A week had passed since that tense night at the bar, and things between you and Dean had remained strained and awkward. The silence between you two had grown heavier, more charged, and it seemed like both of you were tiptoeing around each other, afraid to confront what was really going on. Dean had become more withdrawn, and though Sam hadn’t said anything, you could tell he’d noticed the shift in the dynamic as well.

You spent most of the week trying to sort through your emotions, grappling with the hurt and confusion Dean’s actions had caused, while also questioning your own feelings. Part of you wanted to confront him, to ask him what the hell was going on, but another part of you was terrified of what the answer might be.

So, when Jake called and asked you out, you hesitated.

You’d never really had much experience with guys—your life was complicated enough as it was, and with your lingering feelings for Dean, you’d never felt the need to complicate things further.

But your 18th birthday was approaching, and you knew it was time to make a change. You couldn’t keep living in limbo, pining after someone who seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. Jake was a nice guy, uncomplicated, and maybe spending time with him would help you move on, help you forget about the tension that had been eating away at you.

So, you agreed to go out with Jake.

He suggested going to the movies, and you thought it sounded perfect—casual, low-pressure, a chance to just be a normal teenager for once. But as the evening approached, nerves began to creep in. You hadn’t been on a date before, and you weren’t entirely sure what to expect. Still, you were determined to give it a shot.

You chose a pretty summer dress, one that ended mid-thigh and made you feel confident and feminine. It was a light, flowy fabric that swished around your legs when you moved, a soft pastel color that complimented your complexion. You decided to leave your hair down, slightly curling the ends for a bit of extra polish, and applied a little makeup—just enough to enhance your features without feeling overdone.

As you took a final look in the mirror, a mix of excitement and anxiety fluttered in your stomach. This was new territory for you, and part of you wondered if you were really ready for it. But you knew you couldn’t keep waiting around for something that might never happen. It was time to take a step forward.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of your room and made your way to the library, where you knew Sam and Dean were likely holed up. As you approached, you heard the familiar sound of Castiel’s voice, which meant he was there as well.

Sam was the first to notice you. He looked up from the book he was reading, his eyes widening slightly as he took in your appearance. “Wow, (Y/N), you look great”, he said, smiling warmly.

Dean, who had been sitting across the table from Sam, glanced up as well. The moment his eyes landed on you, something unreadable flashed across his face—surprise, confusion, and maybe something darker, something he quickly tried to hide behind a neutral expression.

Castiel, ever the curious observer, tilted his head slightly. “You look different, (Y/N). Is there a special occasion?”.

You forced a smile, trying to keep your voice steady as you addressed the three of them. “I, uh, have a date. Jake asked me out, and we’re meeting at the cinema”. You hesitated for a moment before adding, “I was wondering if one of you could give me a ride? I’d rather not have him pick me up… here, you know?”.

Sam, always the supportive big brother type, immediately nodded. “Of course, I can drive you. No problem at all”.

But before Sam could stand up, Dean cleared his throat, his voice a little tighter than usual. “I’ll take her”, he said, his eyes fixed on you as he spoke. “I’m not doing anything right now anyway”.

The offer caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. There was a part of you that wanted to refuse, to avoid any more awkwardness between the two of you, but another part—the part that still cared deeply for him—couldn’t bring itself to say no.

“Okay, thanks”, you replied softly, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. Dean nodded once, his expression unreadable, and stood up from the table, grabbing his jacket.

Sam exchanged a glance with Castiel, who merely observed the exchange with his usual calm demeanor. Sam seemed to pick up on the tension, but he didn’t say anything, instead giving you a reassuring smile. “Have fun tonight, (Y/N). You deserve it”.

Dean led the way out of the library, and you followed him, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The walk to the Impala was quiet, neither of you saying a word, but the air between you crackled with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

When you finally reached the car, Dean opened the passenger door for you, something he hadn’t done in a while. You thanked him quietly and slid into the seat, your hands nervously smoothing down the fabric of your dress as he got into the driver’s seat.

The drive was just as tense as the walk had been, the silence thick with everything you weren’t saying. You could feel Dean glancing at you every now and then, but you kept your eyes on the road, trying to steady your breathing and calm the nerves that were twisting your stomach into knots.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dean broke the silence. “So, this Jake guy… what’s he like?”.

His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite ignore. You hesitated before answering, unsure of how much to say. “He’s nice”, you replied simply, not wanting to give away too much. “We only talked a little bit at the bar, but he seems like a good guy”.

Dean kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. The silence between you grew heavier, the tension almost unbearable. He was quiet for a long while, clearly struggling with something. You could see the muscles in his jaw working as he fought to find the right words, his usual confidence replaced by an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice sounding strained as he spoke. “So, uh… are you planning on doing… anything tonight?”. The question came out awkwardly, almost as if he didn’t want to say it but felt compelled to.

You glanced at him, your brows furrowing in confusion at the question. “What do you mean, ‘anything’?”, you asked, your tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Dean hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the heat rising in his face, and before he could talk himself out of it, he fumbled with the door pocket of the Impala, his hand diving inside and emerging with three small foil packages. Without meeting your gaze, he handed them to you, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead.

You stared at the condoms in your hand, your own face flushing with embarrassment as the reality of what he was suggesting hit you. Neither of you spoke for a moment, both of you too flustered to find the right words.

Dean cleared his throat again, trying to break the tension. “I just… I wanted you to be prepared. You know, in case…”. His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. He fumbled with his words, feeling completely out of his depth. This wasn’t a conversation he ever thought he’d have with you, and the awkwardness of it was almost too much to bear. “Uh, sometimes… guys don’t always have them with them, you know?”, he mumbled, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

You stared down at the condoms in your hand, turning them over curiously. This was the first time you’d ever held one, and the reality of what they represented was starting to sink in. The embarrassment you felt was almost overwhelming, but underneath it was a deeper uncertainty—was this really what was expected on a first date?

“Is that… is that what guys expect on the first date?”, you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt shy and a little vulnerable, unsure of what the answer might be. You had no real experience in these matters, and the thought of Jake—or anyone—expecting something you weren’t ready for made your heart race with anxiety.

Dean risked a quick glance at you, and for the first time, he really noticed how you were handling the condoms—how you were fumbling with the packages, your fingers tracing the edges with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. It was then that it hit him: you might not have much, if any, experience with this. The realization made him pause, his own awkwardness momentarily forgotten as concern took over.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. How could he ask you about something so personal without making it even more awkward? He cleared his throat again, trying to find the right words. “Uh… (Y/N), have you… I mean, have you ever… done anything like this before?”.

His voice was soft now, careful, as if he was afraid of hurting you with the question. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking, but he knew he had to find out—if only to make sure you were okay, that you weren’t walking into something you weren’t ready for.

You felt your cheeks flush even deeper at his question, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you kept your eyes on the packages in your hand, your fingers still nervously tracing the edges. “No”, you admitted quietly, the word barely audible. “I… I haven’t”.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Dean wasn’t sure what to say, how to respond to that. Part of him felt protective, wanting to make sure that you weren’t pressured into anything, while another part of him was grappling with the realization that you were even more innocent than he’d thought.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened again, his mind racing. He had always known you were younger, that you hadn’t had the same life experiences as him, but hearing you say it out loud made it feel more real, more immediate. It also made him painfully aware of how much he didn’t want you to get hurt.

Dean tried to focus on the road, but his mind kept wandering back to what you’d just confessed. The thought of you being so inexperienced, of being a virgin, stirred something deep inside him, something that he knew he shouldn’t be feeling. It wasn’t just the protective instinct that had always driven him to look out for you—it was something more primal, something that made his heart beat faster.

He couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to places they shouldn’t. He wondered what it would be like to be your first, to be the one to guide you through something so intimate. The idea of how you might feel crossed his mind before he could push it away, and it made his chest tighten with both desire and guilt. This wasn’t right; he shouldn’t be thinking about you this way. You were young, innocent, and completely unaware of the effect you were having on him.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He knew he needed to get a grip, to focus on being the supportive friend you needed right now, not someone who was entertaining thoughts that crossed a line he couldn’t afford to cross.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for”, Dean finally said, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He kept his eyes on the road, afraid that if he looked at you, you might see the turmoil in his gaze. “You’re in control here, okay? No one gets to pressure you into anything”.

His words were sincere, and he meant every one of them. But there was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind, the one that kept whispering about what it would be like if things were different—if he were the one you were going out with tonight.

You nodded, slipping the condoms into your handbag, even though the entire situation made you feel more uncertain than ever. The weight of the conversation hung in the air, making the silence between you and Dean feel thick and uncomfortable. You could sense the tension radiating off him, and it only made your own nerves worse.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the hum of the Impala’s engine as it rumbled along the road. Your mind was spinning with questions and doubts, but one kept coming to the forefront, one that you felt too embarrassed to voice but couldn’t ignore.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Dean?”, you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean glanced at you, his heart skipping a beat at the way you said his name, so hesitant, so unsure. “Yeah?”, he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, though his nerves were starting to fray.

You hesitated, your fingers fiddling with the strap of your handbag as you struggled to find the right words. You’d never been more nervous in your life, and the thought of asking Dean what you were about to ask made your stomach churn with anxiety. But you needed to know. You needed someone you trusted to help you understand what you might be walking into tonight.

“What should I… I mean, if things get serious tonight, what should I do?”, you asked, stumbling over your words. You felt your face flush with embarrassment, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve never… I don’t know what to expect, or how to… you know, handle it”.

Dean’s mind reeling as he processed your question. Out of all the conversations he’d imagined having with you, this was not one of them. He felt a wave of panic rise up inside him, but he pushed it down, trying to stay calm for your sake.

“You’re asking for… the talk?”, Dean asked, his voice a bit higher than usual, betraying his own nerves.

You nodded, still not meeting his gaze. “Yeah… I guess I am”.

Dean felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. He was completely out of his depth here, and the idea of having this conversation with you—of all people—was overwhelming. But he also knew that you were coming to him because you trusted him, because you didn’t have anyone else to ask, and that made it impossible for him to refuse.

Dean wished you had asked Sam for this talk instead. Sam was the one who always had the right words, the one who could handle these kinds of conversations without getting flustered. Dean wasn’t exactly known for his way with words, especially when it came to something as delicate as this. But here you were, trusting him to guide you through something that was clearly making you nervous, and he couldn’t let you down.

He took a deep breath, trying to push through his own discomfort. “Okay, um, let’s see…”, he began, fumbling for a starting point. “So, what do you, uh… what do you already know about… you know, sex and all that?”. His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he inwardly cursed himself for being so awkward.

You hesitated, biting your lip as you tried to figure out how to explain. “I mean, I know the basics… like, I know how it’s supposed to work, technically”, you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve never actually… done anything. And I’ve seen some stuff online, but not a whole video. Just snippets here and there. It’s all kind of… overwhelming”.

Dean could feel his discomfort mounting with every word you spoke, and the tension in the car was almost palpable. He tried to focus on being the calm, supportive presence you needed, but his body was betraying him in the worst possible way. The more you talked about your inexperience, about how overwhelming it all felt, the more his mind started to wander to places it definitely shouldn’t.

He shifted in his seat, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing problem he was having. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and it only made the situation more difficult to handle. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not now, not with you. But the combination of your vulnerability, your trust in him, and the way you were looking at him with those wide, innocent eyes was pushing him to the brink.

“Yeah, uh… that makes sense”, Dean mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady and hoping you wouldn’t pick up on the strain in his tone. “It’s normal to feel overwhelmed, especially when it’s all new. But you don’t have to rush into anything, okay? You should only do what you’re comfortable with”.

He could feel the heat rising in his face, and he silently cursed himself for letting his thoughts get the better of him. This was the last thing he wanted to be dealing with right now—his body reacting in a way that was completely inappropriate, given the circumstances. He was supposed to be your protector, your confidant, not some creep who couldn’t keep his thoughts straight.

You seemed to relax a little at his words, nodding as you absorbed what he was saying. “I just… I don’t want to mess up, you know? I don’t want to do something wrong”.

Dean swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on your concerns rather than the increasingly uncomfortable situation in his jeans.

He wanted to be there for you, to offer the support and guidance you needed, but his own feelings and physical reaction were clouding his judgment. He knew it was wrong to let his mind wander to the thought of being your first, especially when you were so vulnerable and looking to him for reassurance.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head and refocus. “Look”, he said, his voice steadier now, though still strained. “What’s most important is that you do what feels right for you. If you’re not sure, or if something doesn’t feel right, don’t be afraid to say no. You have every right to change your mind or to ask for more time”.

You nodded, clearly absorbing his words. “I guess I’m just really nervous about it all”, you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s so much to think about, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone”.

Dean felt a pang of guilt. You shouldn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone. You should be focusing on your own comfort and readiness. He tried to keep his mind on supporting you, pushing away the more inappropriate thoughts that had been creeping in. “You’re not going to disappoint anyone”, he said firmly.

You sighed heavily, your eyes filled with anxiety. “But what if I can’t even get those stupid things on and ruin the moment?”, you asked, your frustration evident as you shook your bag with the packages inside.

Dean’s heart clenched as he heard the worry in your voice. He hated that you were feeling so much pressure about something that should be your choice, your moment, not something dictated by anyone else’s expectations. But more than that, he hated how his mind kept slipping into dangerous territory, thinking about what it would be like if he were the one to guide you through it, to be your first.

Dean swallowed hard, doing his best to stay focused on giving you the support you needed. He couldn’t let his thoughts stray, not when you were relying on him. “Listen”, he started, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “First of all, there’s no such thing as ruining the moment. It’s not about doing everything perfectly—it’s about being comfortable and enjoying the experience. And if something doesn’t go right, it’s not the end of the world”.

He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “As for, uh, putting it on… it’s really not as complicated as it seems. It might feel awkward at first, but that’s normal. You can always practice if it makes you feel more confident. But honestly, any guy worth your time is going to be patient and help you through it. It’s not just on you to figure it all out”.

You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed and overwhelmed by the conversation. “Why are you so confident about all this?”, you mumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. “You’re always with another girl, like it’s no big deal. How do you handle it without being nervous or awkward?”.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your words. It was a sound that held a mix of amusement and something deeper—maybe a little sadness at the reality of his life and the way you saw him. “It’s not as easy as it looks, kid”, he said, trying to keep his tone light, though there was a hint of weariness in his voice. “I’ve had a lot more practice, and I’ve been around long enough to learn how to hide the nerves”.

He glanced over at you, noticing how small and unsure you looked in that moment. You were just seventeen, on the verge of becoming an adult, and here you were, asking him questions that reminded him just how different your lives were. While you were still figuring things out, still full of innocence and uncertainty, he was already pushing 38, with more scars—both physical and emotional—than he cared to count.

Dean sighed, his smile fading slightly as he tried to offer you some reassurance. “It’s normal to feel nervous, especially the first time. Hell, everyone does. But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you or that you’re not ready. It just means you’re human”.

Dean sighed deeply, the weight of his own emotions pressing down on him. This conversation was pushing him to confront feelings he had been trying to ignore for a long time. He knew he had to keep it together, to give you the advice you needed without letting his personal feelings cloud his judgment. But it was getting harder and harder to separate the two.

“It’s better to just get to know the guy first”, Dean mumbled, his voice softer, more introspective. “You don’t have to rush into anything, especially not when it’s your first time. That’s something that should be… special. It should be with someone you know, someone you trust completely”.

He paused, glancing at you again, his eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and something deeper that he couldn’t quite put into words. “The first time… it’s not just about the physical stuff. It’s about feeling safe, feeling like you’re with someone who cares about you, who respects you. And if you’re not sure about that, then it’s okay to wait. You’ve got time”.

Dean could feel the truth of his words resonating in his own heart. The idea of you being with someone who didn’t value you the way you deserved made something twist painfully inside him. He wanted to protect you from that, to make sure that your first experience was with someone who saw you for who you truly were—someone who cherished you.

He swallowed hard, trying to push back the emotions that were threatening to surface. This wasn’t about him. It was about you and making sure you were okay, making sure you knew that you didn’t have to rush into anything just because you felt like it was expected.

“Just… take your time, okay?”, Dean continued, his voice almost pleading. “You deserve to feel safe, and you deserve to be with someone who makes you feel that way. Don’t do it just because you think you have to, or because you’re worried about what he might think. Do it when you’re ready, with someone who’s worth it”.

You pressed your thighs together, a subtle movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. The way your legs looked—so smooth, so perfect—only made it harder for him to stay focused on the conversation. He had to fight the urge to let his eyes linger, to let his thoughts wander.

“Thank you”, you mumbled, your voice soft and sincere. There was a vulnerability in your words, a quiet gratitude that made something in Dean’s chest tighten. You were trusting him with something incredibly personal, and the weight of that trust was not lost on him.

Dean forced a small smile, though inside, he was anything but calm. “You don’t have to thank me”, he said gently. “Just… take care of yourself, okay? You’re important, and you deserve to be with someone who sees that”.

The moment hung between you, filled with all the things left unsaid. Dean knew he should be relieved that you’d taken his advice to heart, but part of him was still grappling with the conflicting emotions that had surfaced during this conversation.

As you sat there, still processing everything he’d said, Dean’s eyes inadvertently drifted back to your legs, to the way you were sitting so close to him. It was a struggle to pull his thoughts back to where they should be, to remind himself that you were off-limits, that he couldn’t cross that line no matter how much his emotions tried to push him in that direction.

But for now, he would push those feelings down, bury them deep where they wouldn’t interfere with what mattered most—keeping you safe and making sure you were okay.

“Ready to go in?”, Dean asked after a moment, his voice steady but still tinged with the remnants of everything he was trying to hold back.

You hadn’t even realized that Dean had already parked in front of the cinema. You were so caught up in your thoughts, in the intensity of the conversation you’d just had, that it took a moment for you to gather yourself. Taking a deep breath, you nodded, as if trying to convince yourself that you were ready for this, that you could handle whatever the night might bring.

But before you got out of the car, you turned to Dean, your eyes wide and uncertain. “Do I… do I look okay?”, you asked, your voice soft as you gestured to yourself, seeking reassurance. “I mean, does this dress look alright? Is my hair okay?”.

Dean’s mouth went dry at the question. You were asking him if you looked okay, but the truth was, you looked more than okay. You looked stunning, beautiful in a way that made it hard for him to breathe. The dress hugged your figure in all the right places, and the way your hair framed your face only added to the effect. It was a struggle to keep his thoughts in check, to focus on being the supportive friend when all he could think about was how gorgeous you looked.

For a moment, he was at a loss for words. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “You look… perfect”, he finally managed, his voice a little rougher than he intended. “Seriously, you look amazing. Jake’s a lucky guy”.

Your eyes lit up at his words, a small, grateful smile spreading across your face. “Thanks, Dean”, you said, clearly relieved. His words seemed to give you the boost of confidence you needed, and you took another deep breath, ready to face the evening ahead.

Dean forced a smile in return, though inside, he was wrestling with emotions he didn’t fully understand. He didn’t want to let you go, didn’t want to see you walk into that cinema with someone else, but he knew he had to. You deserved to have fun, to experience life, even if it meant watching from the sidelines.

“Alright”, Dean said, trying to keep his tone light as he unlocked the car doors. “Go knock ‘em dead, kiddo. And remember, if you need anything, I’m just a phone call away”.

You nodded, giving him one last smile before you opened the door and stepped out of the car. Dean watched as you walked towards the entrance of the cinema, his heart heavy.

As you disappeared inside, Dean let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. He knew tonight would be tough, but he had to keep it together—for you and for himself. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, just staring at the cinema, before finally starting the car and driving away, his mind still spinning with everything that had just happened.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 5

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573

#jensen ackles #dean and sam #dean and cas #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #taking her in

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byunpum · 1 year ago

Text

Ghost girl | part 2

Pairing: Neteyam x Albino na'vi!fem x Sully family

Warning: All the characters are aged up 20’s, injured, neytiri being the mom we all need, teyam is a shy babygurl, soft & crush moments.

Note:I am taking this story as I am feeling it. I don't have an ending written, so I'm going to let it all just flow. I hope you like this chapter. You know that all opinions are welcome. BTW… I'll keep answering requests. I have a lot of them in my inbox, so please be patient. <3 Thank you for helping me in the last post.

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5(final)

1 year ago…

"Auyat, I must accept my destiny, it's the right thing to do" you speak, adjusting a few pieces of your hair. "But…you don't love him" the girl is sitting weaving a berry basket. Berry picking season was approaching. "You're right, I don't love him…but I don't plan to disobey my father" you look at your friend, who is looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You let go of what you're doing… and settle closer to your friend's side. "I have no choice, it's the right way, you know Dad wants the lineage to continue…and according to him, Seyey is the perfect man for me" your voice sounds almost lazy, as you feel your friend stroking your hair. "So what happened about that dream…about the boy?" she asks you.

You laugh a little, remembering the vision you had had months ago. The dream was simple…a bright lake, in front of you was a man. You could recognize some of his features…but you couldn't see his whole face. You could feel more the sensation of being with him. He was holding your hand, and you could feel the love he felt for you. How you laughed, and spent time together, until you woke up quickly…damn, you were in love with a dream.

"That's just a dream!!!" you laugh, pulling away from her. "It's a vision…lately your talents are at their peak" she is excited, getting up to spin around. You both laugh, she was cheerful and awkward…but she was your best friend. Almost your sister. The girl sits down smack next to you, hugging you. "You know I'll always be here for you…no matter what you choose" your friend speaks, as you turn to look at her. "Me too…me too" returning the hug. You feel the hug grow colder, turning to look at your friend. Noticing her body fade over your hands…until there is nothing left. There is nothing left of her.

You open your eyes suddenly, where were you? What had happened? The last thing you remember is the face of that woman…your baby!!!. Where the hell is your baby? You sit up suddenly, but the pain in your leg reminds you of the reason why you had fainted. You get more comfortable on the sheets you were lying on. And you start to look at the bands on your body. It was different from what you had seen before, 'new medicine' you think. You also notice how much warmer it was than in your village. Everything was dry, and hot. This was not good for you… your body was used to the cold temperatures. Looking at the decorations that adorned the hut, you laugh a little. Somehow it reminded you of your mother. You see how the curtains of the hut open, and by instinct you try to wrap your body. But the pain gets the better of you and you let out a moan.

"Oh…you're awake," says mo'at. Carefully approaching, seeing how you had your ears pinned to your head, and your eyes dilated. "Wow…you sure have a lot of hair" mo'at reaches over and strokes the side of your hair a little. The snow na'vi were very different, not only because of their skin. But because of their physical appearance, white and abundant hair. Perfect to protect them from the dangerous cold. His eyes were brown, perfect for camouflage among the cold trees. Besides, everyone knows that brown is the color of choice for the cold seasons. "Where is my baby… I" you start to speak, but you see how the woman hands you a container, which contained a liquid. "He is with my daughter…the woman who rescued you, he is safe" she speaks, watching as your body relaxes a little. "But he is not hurt?" you ask, mo'at shakes her head. Trying to calm you down. "You need to take that drink…it will help you stay strong" mo'at says. You are looking at the drink, as you begin to sip it a little at a time. "The best thing would be for you to rest…your son is in good hands." Mo'at speaks.

The truth is that you were still tired, and having a baby in your care while feeling so tired was not recommended, and something inside you told you that he was in good hands. After taking your drink, you lay down on your side. Mo'at watches you, you were hugging your body in a ball position. You were heartbroken, it wasn't easy to be here… after all you had been through. Maybe you were the only survivor of your clan… you were alone. Mo'at, in a very motherly moment, kneels down next to you, places your hand in your hair. She says nothing, just feels you sigh, and can hear some whimpering. She settles down next to you, to comfort you. You had been through so much.

On the other side of the village, neytiri held the baby in her arms. She had spent day and night caring for him. She had to admit she was tired, jake was out hunting with lo'ak. Kiri was taking care of tuk, she was out for a walk with her sister. And she only had neteyam with her, her eldest son was helping her prepare the afternoon meal. "teyam…will you help me with something?" says neytiri, watching as her son gets up from the floor, and drops the pots he was holding. "What am I good at mother" neteyam comes to her side. Neytiri in a smooth but quick movement, stretches out her arms to hand the baby to neteyam. Clumsily he tries to hold him. "M-mama what," stammers neteyam. "I want to walk for a while…plus I'll go get what's missing for dinner" says neytiri, watching as neteyam takes the baby in his arms. Before the boy could protest, neytiri got up, grabbed a basket and hurried out of the family hut. She knew that neteyam would do a good job.

"And now what do I do with you…ahhh?" says neteyam, this was making him nervous. The last time he had held a baby in his arms was tuk, but he was still an infant. Now everything was strange… noticing how the baby moved his nose, and raised his little hands. He placed his hand, so that the baby would hold his finger. "Wow…you are small…and very white" neteyam laughs, now he was sitting on the floor. Stroking the baby's hair, nuzzling it more on his chest. "What would your name be?" neteyam touches the baby's nose, causing the baby to make a little vague smile on his little mouth. Neteyam felt herself growing tender, this baby was so tender and beautiful to his eyes. Lifting his arms, to give him a little kiss on his cheek. "You are precious!!!" neteyam speaks in a higher pitched voice.

After a while, about 1 hour or so. Neteyam had placed the baby in the small hammock his mother had made for him. While he was preparing some hunting tools, sharpening his knives and arrows. Until he hears the baby start to cry, he gets up and runs to the baby. Taking him in his arms. "Hey…what's wrong? Are you dirty?" says neteyam, examining if the baby had done any of its needs. The baby's clothes were strange, compared to the clothes of the omaticaya babies. This one was more covered, a type of cloth…that seemed to be the skin of some animal. "mmm are you clean…ahhh does anything hurt?" says neteyam, as he holds the baby in his arms, lifting him up to place his ears on the small stomach. "oh!!! You seem to be hungry" neteyam closes his eyes a little, when he hears how the baby starts to cry louder. "calm down!!!" neteyam tries to soothe him, but he doesn't even know what to feed him. I mean…this baby is supposed to be drinking breast milk. Taking some time to think, as he paces back and forth around the hut.

'Mo'at' thinks neteyam. His grandmother would help him, of course…he couldn't go to where the baby's mother was, because she was hurt. But his grandmother would help. He quickly leaves the hut, and makes his way to the mo'at hut. Entering, he sees that all is quiet. The baby had calmed down a bit, neteyam found that as long as he was moving the baby was quiet. Entering and examining the area. There was no one, until he saw a figure on one of the beds. It seemed to be a girl…and he knew immediately that you were the mother. Because it was very obvious, because of your skin and hair color. The boy approaches carefully, but a crying sound is heard throughout the hut. This causes you to wake up.

"What's going on?" you speak, carefully getting up. You still had your eyes half closed, as you tried to see what was happening. When you finally open your eyes, you see a man. Holding your baby, and your baby crying. "I'm sorry, I" neteyam speaks, but suddenly goes quiet. You both make eye contact for a couple of seconds, before you look down. "Is that my baby? WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY BABY?" you yell a little, raising your arms. Signaling, to hand him over to you. Neteyam without hesitation, rushes over. With his tail tucked between his legs, handing you the baby. Watching as you quickly embrace him. A smile comes across your face, as you sniff at your baby's hair. "Mama's here… now,now," you cuddle the baby. He is crying, but his fury has diminished as he hears and smells your scent.

"He's hungry…so I brought him with mo'at…I swear I didn't want to get you up" neteyam tries to apologize. But see how you are ignoring him, all your attention was now placed on your baby. He sits up, he wasn't too far away from you. But he was at the perfect distance to respect your space. He stays quiet, watching you cuddle your baby. Moving your top, to breastfeed your child. Giving him a little kiss on his forehead, "I think it was a woman who was taking care of my child" you look up, still annoyed. But you feel your breath catch, when you finally make eye contact with neteyam.

His eyes…his bright eyes. The shape of his nose…and how his hair fell to his shoulders. Your pupils dilate…it couldn't be him, it was almost impossible. Your gazes never leave each other's side, it seems as if the two of you have met at some point. You feel him so familiar…his gaze is so familiar. "Neteyam" you speak softly, noticing how the man's ears perk up. "Do we know each other?" neteyam asks, still making eye contact with you. You feel that same pressure in your chest that you felt when you had that…dream. "No…I don't think so" you speak, shifting your gaze. You hear a chuckle, neteyam was laughing to himself. "Sure…I've never seen anyone like you" neteyam's eyes scan your whole body. Then he looks at your face again.

"Yes" you felt a little embarrassed, out of nowhere you were embarrassed and you swear you were blushing. It couldn't be him…it could be something else. 'eywa stop doing your thing..no, no ,no ,no' you think. How could it be him, you don't even know him. "Hey are you okay?" neteyam asks, reaching over to touch your shoulder a little, but just before he touched you. You startle, pulling away a little. "Ohh sorry honey" you speak, the movement had knocked your baby off your boob. You try to get comfortable, but with the wraps and your clothes it was very difficult. Neteyam reaches over, and takes a piece of clothing that was covering your breast. Holding it up, so you could better fit your baby. "Thank you" you speak, seeing how he gives you a smile. "You're welcome…hey, why are you turning red?" asks Neteyam. And yes, you were turning very red.

The tips of your ears were red and your nose. So were your cheeks. You shake your head to the other side. "Ahhh it's nothing…I think it's the heat. It's VERY hot in here" you yell a little. Neteyam falls silent, you had surprised him. "Yeah…you're not used to this weather. My mother told us where you came from" you watch as he settles more in his seat. And gives the 'I see you' sign. "I know it must have been awful what you've been through… but you're welcome to this clan" speaks neteyam. Damn…he had to be so nice and kind. "Thank you I…" just as you were about to thank him, you hear someone enter the hut. It was three people to be more precise. Neytiri, Kiri and Mo'at. The three women are a bit surprised, when they see neteyam next to you and the baby.

"You were supposed to be taking care of him," says neytiri, approaching you. "Yes…he just got hungry. I came to see if grandma was here so she could help me…but look" neteyam points his arms at you. " His mom was awake" neteyam says. "You woke me up" you speak, seeing how neytiri gave him a dirty look. Neteyam curls into a ball, hugging his knees. Neytiri turns to look at you, smiling tenderly. "And how are you?" she asks, noticing how you cuddle your baby. "I'm fine…I wanted to thank you for not leaving me there, I'm thankful…. for everything" you speak, looking up to look at mo'at as well. Neytiri caresses your face. "You're welcome… I had to do it, I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something had happened to you" neytiri speaks, sitting down closer to your side.

"What's the baby's name?" asks Kiri, the girl is already in front of you. You are a little surprised, but you laugh. You lift the baby in your arms. "His name is herwì" you speak. Neytiri smiles a little, taking the baby's foot in her hands. "That is a beautiful name" kiri moves closer to the baby. Neytiri looks up, to see neteyam looking at you. The look seemed to be calm, while his tail wagged in fast taps. It could be curiosity, the woman thought. "Well…I see you met my oldest son…sorry I left the baby for him. I had to get things for dinner," neytiri says, apologizing to you. You wave your hands. "Don't worry he is" you give a quick glance at neteyam, who looks down at the floor when he notices that you caught him looking at you. "He's very funny" you speak. Kiri laughs, and taps neteyam. "Wow…someone says you're funny" kiri teases her brother. The latter rolls his eyes, turning to look at another spot in the hut.

After half an hour, everyone was still there in the hut. Neytiri was doing her best to make you feel comfortable in your new home. Because it was. Neytiri had a very long conversation with Jake, she wanted him to agree to let the girl stay in the clan. The only thing you were asking for was shelter, you had lost everything. Jake was quick to agree, first he couldn't say no to his mate. And second… he understood what you were going through AND he wasn't going to leave a young mother abandoned. This made Neytiri happy, she felt a responsibility to you. The only thing she was curious about was what had really happened…and where was your family? She didn't want to be disrespectful…but she was very curious.

Neteyam had moved closer to you, listening as you and Kiri talked. Kiri kept talking about how you were going to like everything in this clan. How she was going to help you. He was just giving you a few glances, praying you wouldn't notice he was looking at you every 4 seconds. At that, you hear some noises coming from the entrance of the hut. Some na'vi were carrying a man. You could see that his leg was very bad. All this noise made the baby get up and start crying. Mo'at got up and led the men to place the wounded man on one of the beds. Mo'at received the injured of the clan, took care of them. So this hut, it was almost like a hospital.

You try to calm the baby, but he was very upset. He wouldn't stop crying, he woke up scared. "May I?" asks neteyam, signaling for you to hand over the baby. You, without complaint, hand him the baby. Watching as he lays him on his chest and gets up. To now walk back and forth. You laugh, but you are surprised. "wow…look at that" says kiri, herwi had calmed down. Falling asleep on neteyam's chest. "neteyam, you have a talent with babies," says neytiri, laughing a little. She thought it was adorable to see her son, comforting the baby. Meanwhile neytiri had gotten up and was now walking towards her mother. Mo'ate was busy, helping the man. "mom… y/n is she better?" asks neytiri.

"Yes…but she needs help and supervision, in a week she will be as good as new" Mo'at speaks, still working. Neytiri takes another look, she saw how kiri and neteyam were already getting along with you. As if they had known you all their lives… you gave off such a beautiful vibe. She felt that this place was not right for a wounded mother and her baby to be. "There an empty hut?" mo'at looks at neytiri. "No…not at the moment" mo'at continues to treat the man. "Mother…I think it is right that I take y/n to rest in my hut. We will take care of her…besides this is not a safe place for a baby" says neytiri. "I find it fine…you just have to ask her" says mo'at, she was deep in her work, ignoring her daughter a bit. Neytiri gets up, and walks to your side.

You look up, watching as the woman sits down next to you. Placing her hand on your back. "Y/n…have a question" neytiri speaks, you give her your full attention. "mmm I was wondering…would you like to sleep in our hut?" neytiri speaks, this gets neteyam and kiri's attention. "yesssss say yes" kiri says, hugging your arm. Neteyam was still holding the baby in his arms. This question makes him a little anxious, he kept quiet waiting for your answer. "Ahh mmm I don't know, I don't want to disturb" you say. "No honey… it would be my pleasure. I want you to be more comfortable, besides…I think you want to be in a better place" says Neytiri. "You're right…I accept" you speak, watching as a smile forms on neytiri's face. You swear you almost started to cry…she was so much like your mom. You missed her so much.

Neytiri got up from the floor, ready to leave. "I think I'll need help" you look at your thigh, the wound was still very fresh. Neytiri analyzes the situation. "Neteyam…why don't you help me carry her" Neytiri orders. Neteyam hands the baby to her mother, approaching you. Kneeling down, "If you allow me…" says neteyam, bringing one of his hands to your waist. And another under your thigh. Lifting you carefully, in bridal mode. Out of instinct, and to keep your thigh from stretching so much. You bring your arms around neteyam's neck, you were afraid of falling and hurting yourself. Neteyam tightens his grip, and holds you tighter. Neteyam held you very close, your face was inches away from his. He swear he could smell the scent of pine and something sweet, he loved it. "Ok…we are ready" says Neteyam. Neytiri says goodbye to mo'at and they all leave the hut. Not if before hearing how mo'at shouted. "Be very careful with her…I will come later to give you all the medicines". Everyone in the group continues walking towards the family hut. Neytiri was happy…stroking the baby's tiny head. But the movement of her son's tail caught her attention, it was very fast. And it was up… Neytiri chuckled to herself.

That same night…

Arriving at the hut, neytiri set everything up. You couldn't stay in a hammock, so she set up a nice trundle bed. Perfect for you and the baby to be comfortable. "And as I was saying… the thanator are the most dangerous" lo'ak speaks, the boy had introduced himself the first minute he arrived at the hut. He had been impressed with you, asking why you were so white and why your hair was like that. Neytiri had to tap him to get him to calm down and not bother you. On the other hand, you felt very comfortable, seeing that they had received you so kindly. Meanwhile neteyam was sitting somewhere on the side of the hut, watching you.

"Ma jake… thank you for accepting" says neytiri, Jake and neytiri were outside the hut talking. "Ma neytiri..don't worry. You know I don't mind helping…that's what we're here for. Besides," jake glances inside the hut, "She gives off a good vibe," says Jake. Neytiri places a hand on his arm, somewhat excited. "Exactly…I thought I was the one who felt that" neytiri laughs a little. Jake just stood there for a moment, watching how all the young people were getting along so well. Lo'ak and you were talking, kiri and tuk were playing with the herwi, well kiri was holding the baby and tuk was showing him her new toys. Even though the baby didn't understand anything. Until he noticed how your ears were turning red and you looked a little uncomfortable. "The girl looks a little strange…I think there's something wrong with her" jake speaks, neytiri looks at you and notices the same thing. Entering the hut quickly.

"Y/n…are you ok?" neytiri asks, noticing the same thing jake saw. "Ahh yes" you speak, somewhat shyly. You didn't want to intrude, this family was completely welcoming you. The least you could do was complain. "You're getting a little red…are you sure?" says neytiri, coming towards you. "Well…I'm a little hot" you say. And of course you were hot. Your clothes were not the same as what they were wearing. While the sully family wore lighter clothing, you had a fur top that covered your breasts. And your loincloth was made of a strong, somewhat furry fabric. "Baby… I think your clothes are making you hot," Jake says, coming towards you. "I think so" you giggle a little. "Well…I think I have a few pieces of clothing that would fit you" says neytiri. You nod your head, accepting the woman's proposal.

Jake takes the men of the family with him, so that Neytiri will have more confidence to help you change. With the excuse that they would help him look for what was missing for the dinner. Neytiri looked for one of the clothes that she had kept, which were decorated with feathers and some precious stones. They matched the loincloth. Kiri and Neytiri help you, you couldn't move much. But this felt so comfortable…they were treating you like part of their family, and you barely knew them. Or so you thought…you swear you knew them, it was a feeling you couldn't understand. "thank you" you speak watching as neytiri adjusts the last knot of your loincloth. "It looks great on you…you look beautiful" says Kiri. You felt a little strange…but this relieved the heat. After a while, jake came in accompanied by his son. "oh, wow…you look better now" says jake, holding a basket full of cooked fish. Neteyam felt that now he was the one feeling hot, as he came in he saw you sitting there. Seeing you looking very beautiful in the clothes of his people.

He could notice how you give him a quick glance giving him a smile, making him change his. He quickly ran to where his father was to help him. "ok… family today we are going to eat near Y/N" says jake, motioning for everyone to settle around you. Everyone takes a seat around you. Grabbing the utensils they needed to start eating. Dinner was going very well, everyone was having a great time. But something was bothering neytiri, she wanted to know more about you. "Y/n…sorry to ask this…but could you tell us what happened…and where is your partner? Mo'at told us a little about your clan…but she couldn't say what happened" speaks jake, making neytiri turn around in surprise. "No…y/n you don't have to" neytiri tries to apologize.

"Don't worry…I'll tell you" you let go of the pot you were holding. "One year ago… they came to our village. The humans came saying they needed a mineral…that only grows in our lands. Dad refused, and you know what happened." You take a breath, seeing how everyone was giving you their full attention. "The attacks and landings became more frequent, until what I never thought would happen occurred…I had seen it in one of my visions. But I thought no…it wasn't possible. But they attacked with everything they had" your eyes began to fill with tears. "Dad stayed fighting, while my mother helped me get out of the village, she told me to come here. Everyone…there was no one left alive. The families, the children…everything. "You lower your face, as the tears came down. You feel someone hug you, and that was Neytiri. Holding you by the shoulders, so that you were closer to her.

There was a short silence, until someone begins to speak. "And your partner?" kiri asks. You raise your head, wiping your eyes a little. "He died in battle when I was three months pregnant" you speak, neytiri could sense a bit of coldness when you talk about your mate. This caused her another question, this was a forced pairing…that had to be it, neytiri thought to herself. "And about the visions…" lo'ak is so interested in your story, all of you seemed interesting to him. "ooh…I am a seer, well an apprentice…my skill is not fully developed, I am still very young. I have visions of people and future events, I myself don't understand what happens to me sometimes" you laugh a little. This made sense now, that's what mo'at was talking about.

"In our clan we are very close with eywa, much more so than all the other clans. Eywa guides us and speaks directly to us." You speak, this makes neytiri raise her ears and look at jake with fascination. "But…that's not possible" says neteyam, you look at him and laugh a little at him. "Well, yes… it's a calling. It's a unique feeling" you speak, looking now at kiri, who is watching you. Understanding every word. "Well…it's all very impressive…and I understand what you've been through" jake says, touching your shoulder. "I'm glad you found our clan…I promise you'll be safe" jake gives you a smile. Oh, you could feel that…he wasn't quite a full-blooded na'vi. He was a mixture, you almost saw jake's whole life up to this moment. You stay quiet, and smile back. You get annoyed with yourself, your ability to see events, it wasn't something you could control. Jake started talking about something else, he wanted to change the subject. He knew this was a difficult topic to talk about.

After dinner…everyone got ready for bed. You were settling your herwin next to you. You felt strange, but happy to have peace of mind. As you tucked your baby in, with a blanket. You saw neytiri come up to you. "Are you feeling all right? Don't you need anything?" neytiri asks you. You smile and let her know you are comfortable, watching her say goodbye to you. You stand there, looking at the home decor, numbering the differences. You had so much to learn… you were beginning to feel melancholy. "Hey" neteyam speaks, you turn to look at him. "Did something happen?" you ask, watching as he bends down on his knee. "I didn't introduce myself properly… my name is neteyam" the boy extends his hand to you, you timidly but confidently hold his hand. And you finally recognize him… it's him. He is the boy from the lagoon. Your heart races a million times, and again you feel yourself blushing.

"I'm Y/N" you say, seeing how her face is drawing a nice smile. "Thank you for trusting us…I hope you feel comfortable" speaks Neteyam. You barely speak, nodding your head 'yes'. Neteyam laughs, as he adjusts your hair a little. "Rest," says Neteyam, getting up from the floor. But not before stopping and looking at you. "And yes…I think we've met before" he laughs…and walks back to his hammock.

It couldn't be…it could be, it was him.

p.s: I tried to explain as much as I could in this part, but I think the Y/N story is more complicated and longer than I thought. I think it's better if I tell it little by little. Tell me what did you think about this part?

Teyam babygurls: symptoms-of-moonlight , tru-blubelle, mashiromochi, ducks118, butterfly-ibuki

If there is any problem with the tags, let me know and I will try to fix it as quickly as possible. tag list is open, just let me know *3*//

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ash5monster01 · 2 months ago

Note

hello! i was wondering if you could write a neil perry imagine? like he finds the reader at a pond in the woods and he's very curious about her so they start talking or something? idk haha anything works, thank you!

In The Woods

Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, minor language, mentions of bullying, minor sexual implication, two lost souls, immediate attraction

Summary: When Neil stumbles upon you in the woods he’s shocked to find that you’re one of the most interesting people he’s ever met.

word count: 1.3k

Masterlist

It’s not often Neil finds himself wandering away from campus, a fear of getting caught stopping him. Yet today is one of those days when he needs a break from everyone. A break from his Dad, his teachers, even his friends. Having been forced into an all boys school at a young age he never found himself with any alone time. So despite the looming danger of demerits, he sneaks away from campus and past the tree-line anyway.

He’s aimlessly walking, not even considering the danger of getting lost when he freezes in place. Not only had he found a clearing that withheld one of the most beautiful ponds he had ever seen, but beside the water line lay a girl in a Henley Hall uniform. Hair fanning around her like a halo, eyes closed, and the softest hum falling from her perfect lips.

Of all the scary things he could’ve come face to face with in the woods, he never expected a girl to be one of them. Unsure what to do he takes a step forward, but much to his luck a stick snaps underneath his weight. The sound alerts her so fast she’s up in an instant, eyes casting over him that make him feel frozen in place. He wonders had it been a beautiful deer, would it have run off already.

“Who are you?” you ask with an accusing tone but the sound of your voice is so angelic he’s positive the apprehension never reaches his ears.

“I-I’m, I was just on a walk, I hadn’t meant to intrude” but your accusing eyes soften when you spot the grey sweater on his form, the Welton symbol etched delicately over his heart.

“Sorry, you just scared me is all. A lot can happen to a girl alone in the woods” you tell him and he nervously chuckles, daring a few steps closer as he comes near you.

“Then why are you out here?” he curiously asks, wondering how he could go so quickly from wanting to be alone to needing to know everything about you.

“Bad day at school, needed some fresh air. It’s sort of comforting when you close your eyes and listen to the trees” Neil can’t help the way his eyebrows furrow, confused as to what you could possibly mean. Trees didn’t make noise.

“I’m not quite sure what you mean” he finally says and you giggle, the sound so light he swears he’d get swept up in it if he wasn’t careful.

“Come here” and your request does not go ignored, he walks over in the slowest speed he can without acting eager before sitting beside you in the grass. “Now lay back and close your eyes”

Neil does as told, following you in perfect movement as you both lay side by side. You’re perfectly silent while Neil takes in the sounds around him. Every few seconds he hears the soft croak of a frog, ripples on the pond, and mostly the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. It sounds like a symphony, music he’s sure no man could ever recreate. For the first time all day he feels his annoyance subside and his heart calm.

“Wow” he breathes, eyes still shut as you turn your head and dare a glance at the cute boy. Of all the spontaneous trips you had made into the woods that separated your two schools, had you ever expected to actually find a boy within it.

“Beautiful right?” you inquire, smiling at him as his own brown eyes open and meet yours. Suddenly becoming aware of the air between you both, you share a nervous laugh, both feeling the connection between you both.

“I’m Neil by the way” he says and you smile, your own name leaving your lips in an introduction. Slowly you watch as his hand lifts from his side, held up between you both. “It’s nice to meet you”

“You to Neil” you agree as your own hand folds into his, a spark igniting in you as Neil focuses on how you said his name like it was your own. Like somehow he now belonged to you.

“I had a bad day today too. I came out here hoping to be alone” Neil admits and you give a pressed smile, releasing your hand and turning your gaze back up to the sky above you.

“I can leave if you still feel that way” you tell him and he shakes his head, eyes widening as he realizes what it had sounded like.

“No, no, I just meant that you had made it better. That maybe I didn’t need to be alone after all” your tension eases as he says this, smiling his direction as your face turns pink. A random boy making you blush had not been on the list for this afternoon.

“Teachers?” you ask and he shakes his head, a shadow casting over his features at the reminder.

“Father actually. He found out I got a C in Science. Said I wasn’t focused enough, that maybe I should consider summer school to get ahead” he admits, eyes cast brightly over the clouds. You nod beside him, knowing exactly what it was like having the pressures from school and family on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, if it makes you feel better though, the most popular girl in school spread a terrible rumor about me. I heard people whispering all day” you tell him and his features immediately soften towards you, knowing exactly what it was like to feel so down from what others thought.

“Was it bad?” Neil asks and you sigh, hands folding together over your stomach as you look up at the sky. Thanking gravity for keeping the tears at bay.

“Yeah. Something about how I had relations with a teacher to get good grades. Yet I figure she’s just jealous that I passed the English test and she didn’t” you tell him and what you don’t expect is his hand to fall on top of your own.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that” and you swear it’s the most earnest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“Thank you, I’m sorry you have to go to summer school” your words illicit a laugh Neil cannot help, smiling widely at you beside him. He swears he has never seen anyone more beautiful.

“It’s not so bad, especially now that I know about here so I can escape” he tells you and you smile, images of you meeting him here for the rest of the school year playing on loop. A hopeful gleam in your eye.

“I’m happy to share my hiding place with you anytime Neil” you tell him and he grins, thankful it wasn’t just him who wanted more of this moment.

“What’re you gonna do when you get back to school?” he asks and you shrug, hand mindlessly lacing with his own and moving between you both.

“Try my best not to pull her hair, ignore it probably. Nothing else I can really do” you say and Neil tries to hide how his heart hammers in his chest, speeding up with every brush of your fingers against his.

“Or you could tell them something else just as bad” he suggests but even you can tell he’s not the kind of boy who favors revenge. It makes you laugh anyway, what he had probably intended to do all along.

“Would you maybe want to hangout here again Neil, say 4 o’clock tomorrow?” you ask daringly, not wanting to lose your nerve and he smiles wide, hand squeezing your own.

“I’ll be here” he says and somehow that comforts you enough to dare go back to school and face all the mean words about you. For you had come out here in search of peace and instead had found a friend.

“Good, I’ll be counting on it”

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drewsbuzzcut · 11 months ago

Text

Right Where You Left Me

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: angst, self inflicted doubts, slight jealousy, lack of communication, age gaps, break ups, alcohol consumption, and I think that’s all

this takes place when they were just dating

You sit in your bedroom, trying to stop your tears from falling as you look out your window. It’s to no avail.

How could a perfect night end up so terribly wrong? You were meant to celebrate your latest magazine cover with Mat in attendance. Now you’re crying your eyes out, wishing you never invited him along.

The night started off great. You and Mat walked around, socializing with everyone there. You both had a couple drinks and Mat quite literally never left your side. He was proud of you and wanted to see how appreciated you are. You’re the one who left his side. Never in your life have you been the jealous type, but when you walked back to Mat after getting you and him drinks from the bar, you weren’t expecting to see him so enthusiastically talking to another woman. His smile is wide to the point you can see his dimples. His body language is relaxed and her’s is laced with interest. Why wouldn’t she be?

You linger back, halting your steps in favor of letting the crowd drown you out from where you’re witnessing Mat and the woman’s conversation. Deciding to avoid them, you turn and find someone to talk to. Your conversation is only a distraction especially when you can hear the distinct sound of your boyfriend’s laughter. You peek over your shoulder only to regret it the second you catch a glance at the woman he’s talking to. She’s a woman. In every sense. Her makeup is so elegant and light. Her hair is perfectly curled and pinned, and her outfit looks like it was designed just for her. She’s everything you’re insecure about- especially in regard to your relationship and age gap with Mat.

You bite the bullet and excuse yourself from who you were talking to, making your way to the person you wish you didn’t want to avoid.

“Hi,” you mumble and mentally slap yourself for coming off as shy or intimidated.

“Y/n! Hi, honey. Your cover is fantastic! For a young model you sure do have an amazing resume,” she compliments you, her words have a way of punching your gut.

“Thank you! That means a lot,” you try to fake a smile and she buys it, but you can see Mat look at you from the corner of your eye.

“I am so sorry. Where are my manners? This is Mathew Barzal, he’s a hockey player. I don’t know how he ended up at an event like this, but we were just talking about hockey. As an older Canadian who grew up around hockey, I was attempting to school him. I wanted to see if he knew his own game as well as I do,” the woman says, cocking her head to the side in utter confidence.

You knew she was older.

You give her another faint smile before responding.

“He’s a great hockey player. Mat’s my boyfriend,” you state and watch as realization crosses her facial features.

“My goodness, sorry. He didn’t mention he was here with his girlfriend, but I guess it never really came up. Wow! How did a man like you end up with a girl like Y/n? I would’ve expected you to be with someone around your age and not as busy,” she has the audacity to say to your face.

“I can keep up with him just fine, thanks for your concern,” you bite, smiling sarcastically.

“She’s the best girlfriend,” Mat finally decided to contribute to the conversation. He throws an arm over your shoulders, but you quickly remove yourself after bidding a quick goodbye to the woman whose name you’re glad you didn’t learn.

You never wanted to see her again.

“Are you okay?” Mat asks, catching up to you and resting a hand on your arm.

“I’m fine,” you say stoically.

“No you’re not,” he points out.

“Then why’d you ask?” You snap, still facing away from him.

“What the hell is going on?” He grabs your shoulders and turns you towards him.

“What the hell is going on with you and that lady?” You question.

Mat looks confused because why are you angry about him talking to someone else. Mat looks confused because why are you tearing up and not making eye contact with him?

“What are you talking about?” He tries to reach for your hands, but you pull them away from him before he can touch you.

“Stop doing that,” he whispers.

His veins on his neck are already starting to pop out and his face is getting flushed. He’s having a hard time being patient with you.

“Can you take me home?” You ask silently.

“Can you answer my question?”

“No, because if I do, we’re just going to fight,” you answer.

“Why would you, answering my question, make us fight? If anything, you not answering my question and ignoring me is what’s pissing me off,” he claims, a warning in his tone.

You drag your fingers through your hair and turn away from him again. You can feel your chest heave even though you’re trying to hide it. You face him again, your teary eyes flashing up at him. The crinkle in between your eyebrows gets Mat to close the distance and smooth out the skin with his thumb. You hold onto his wrist and push his hand away.

“You looked like you were really enjoying your conversation with her. Like I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so animated, not even with me,” you whisper and shut your eyes.

Mat’s eyebrows turn down in a frown and his lips form into a semi-frown.

“That can’t be true, and we were just talking about hockey. You know I love hockey,” he says.

“You never talk with me about hockey, besides game details. I know you know that hockey isn’t my favorite, but when it comes to you I’d talk about anything.”

“I don’t mean to not talk about hockey with you. I can change that, though, easily,” he tries to calm your worries, but you can’t stop the thoughts in your head.

“The thing is that you can find it so easy to talk to another woman about something that you find hard to talk about with me,” you counter. Your face pinches up in discomfort.

“You can’t place all of that blame on me,” he responds.

“I’m not trying to blame just you. She just seemed really interested in you and what she said was bitchy. She made it seem like you both were flirting,” you stress.

“That wasn’t my case. I was just talking to her about hockey,” Mat defends himself. You believe him but those damn thoughts in your head can’t be silenced.

“I just can’t get over the vibe I got from the way you looked so cozy.”

“I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe me. I’m telling the truth that nothing was or is going on with that woman. It was just a conversation. I don’t know how to get through to you,” he says through clenched teeth.

You grab onto his hand for the first time since you started this conversation. You squeeze them gently before looking into Mat’s eyes.

“That’s my fault. I just- I thought maybe you didn’t know how to handle me, but maybe I don’t know how to handle you. You and all that you come with. Maybe you should be with someone older and not some little girl who doesn’t know what she’s dealing with,” you admit through soft cracks of your voice.

Mat wipes away your tears, looking down at you with a saddened expression.

“No. No, please don’t do this. You are perfect for me. I don’t want a girlfriend if it’s not you, you know me,” he argues, shaking his head repeatedly and continuously wiping away your tears.

“We’re at different stages in life. You need someone older. Someone who isn’t me! I’m not right for you and clearly that’s noticeable to everyone except us,” you explain, flitting your eyes up to his only to regret it once you see nothing but pain in them.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you giving up on us? You’re the love of my life, that much I’m sure of. It’s only 5 years. We’re both adults,” he states, holding onto your face even though it’s no use.

“Can you please just take me home?”

Mat doesn��t say anything. He bitterly nods his head and moves away from you, begrudgingly walking to his car.

The car ride is quiet and tense. The air condition isn’t enough to drown out the silence or your sniffles. Each time Mat hears you, he flinches and recoils his hands before he can fully reach out to touch you.

When he parks outside of your apartment, he hastily gets out to open your door for you. Your heart twists in an ache that seems like it’ll be a permanent visitor. You’re going to miss him so much.

“I can get up by myself,” you mutter when you realize he’s following you inside.

“Please, Y/n. I love you,” he pulls you back by your hand, a hand going to your waist because he physically can’t let go of you.

“And I love you. That’s why we can’t be together. You deserve someone better,” you stress.

“You don’t get it. There is no one better. There is just you. You, Y/n L/n, the love of my life. What do I need to do to make you believe that? What have I done to make you doubt me?”

“Nothing. Follow me or don’t follow me up, but we’re done, okay?” You pull out of his grasp, hoping and begging that he doesn’t follow you.

When you get to your door, your shaking hands fumble the keys and struggle to unlock your door. You can feel his presence behind you and it makes you feel worse. You rip the door open, hoping that behind it there’s fresh air. You turn to close it, rapidly blinking your tears away as you stare into Mat’s eyes. You see his red rimmed eyes and the defeated gaze in his face, but you don’t have it in yourself to say anything. You close the door in his face and wait a few minutes for him to leave so you can break down completely. You had no idea that he spent the entire night outside your front door, hearing you sob and fighting with himself to find a way to comfort you.

a/n: Enjoy some Mat and model!reader angst!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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rwshfordgirl · 10 days ago

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3. Back Again

summary: he went to spend christmas with his family in his hometown and met up with his childhood girlfriend. what awaits them now?

pairing: trent alexander arnold × reader

word counter: 1695

a/n: omg i think this is by far my favorite of the series, i hope you like it and please disregard any mistakes ;) i'm just a girl who has portuguese as her first language lmao

🎄 christmas prompts 🎄

trent had never spent so much time in the neighborhood where he was born since he moved to a remote neighborhood in liverpool. but now he was back, not definitively, but ready to spend christmas with family and see his childhood friends again.

and that's why he's sitting on the living room floor of one of his friends' houses, laughing out loud alongside two other friends. but trent has proxies in his mind, every time the front door of the house opens, he involuntarily looks and is always disappointed to see that the person passing through it is not the one he expects.

"mate, come on, it's easier for you to ask if she's coming or not." the friend sitting on the player's left side commented and trent just rolled his eyes "but you know, i think she's coming. she's just late as always and now she lives even further away, just calm down trent." the other friend said "who told you that i'm waiting for someone?" the football player said as he got up from the ground "you didn't even have to say anything."

trent made a move to answer but the movement of the door opening caught his attention and this time, the person who walked through the door was the one he was expecting. trent's first childhood sweetheart, his first love. "wow" was the first thing that crossed his mind. yn is still as beautiful as she always was, her smile keeps shining and she continues to exude charm, the girl of trent's dreams is still perfect. she greeted everyone who appeared in front of her with hugs and kisses. the player remembered when he was little and felt jealous of seeing her so close to the boys he didn't like, but she is like that, friendly with everyone.

"i can't believe it, i'm finally facing one of the best players in england." she said as she approached trent who smiled awkwardly "trent alexander arnold you're going to sign my liverpool shirt soon, I'm letting you know." she said before hugging him "It's so good to see you." she said before leaving.

arnold was literally speechless, yn left him speechless and he thought she must think he had gone crazy. a five-second interaction and he didn't say anything, he just smiled.

however, trent didn't imagine it, but yn was nervous just like him. before arriving, she only thought about whether he would be there and she almost felt sick with nerves just imagining them interacting. "nonsense" she also thought, the two dated when they were children and shared a single kiss at the age of 12. apparently it was something unforgettable for both of them.

"trent looks different." she told her best friend "not physically cause he's still a cutie!" they both laughed "but since when is he this shy?" she added "it was your arrival! he was here happily talking and laughing" yn widened her eyes "you and your fertile imagination, at least that hasn't changed."

just as she was trent's first love, the player was also her first love. she really liked trent, she liked to make little handmade gifts for him, she liked to hug him, play with his hair, go to his family's house and go to his games when he played for liverpool's youth team. this last habit hasn't changed much, she still follows liverpool's games just to see him, even if from a distance, since some time ago she decided to go to london to study law.

the christmas eve eve party continued, the sound of laughter and the noise of people talking filled the house. trent and yn occupied opposite spaces in the place, always exchanging glances. they both lacked the courage to go and talk alone.

but suddenly yn disappeared from his sight, he looked for her nearby but there was no sign of the girl. "maybe she went to answer her cell phone" he thought. but he couldn't stand waiting for even a minute and decided to look for her.

yn was sitting in the covered part of the backyard, watching the snow fall "you disappeared." trent scared her, she turned around with her hand on her heart and her eyes wide "you almost scared me to death." she laughed.

trent sat down next to her and they looked at each other, yn was smiling and trent laughed "what's wrong?" she asked "you were smiling for no reason, that's cool." he replied "i'm nervous." she admitted "nervous about what?" he asked "i don't know if i'll make it to my mother's house in time." she scratched her head as she stared at the snow falling on the grass. "wait, your mother doesn't live here anymore?" he looked surprised. "she went to wales as soon as i decided to go to london two years ago." she replied "oh, i forgot you decided to go to law school." he said "i'm going to be liverpool lawyer now." yn joked and trent laughed.

"i think this is the first time we've spoken since i moved." what trent had just said was true, it's been a few years since the player moved and since then they haven't exchanged a word. "yes, and i missed you! i still miss going to your house and staring at the ceiling while we talked with your brothers." yn said "good times. my mom asked about you the other day, she wanted to know if I still had your contact." yn's smile went from ear to ear "i love your mom! oh, now i can taste the food she made, my god, trent." trent moved a little closer to the girl.

"you know, christmas is my favorite time of year. i love the food, i love getting together with family, giving and receiving gifts, and of course, watching christmas movies." she changed the subject "i'm not a big fan of romance movies" yn looked at him in disbelief "ah, but christmas movies are different, are you going to tell me that you would never experience a christmas romance?" trent laughed "oh, you got me... but speaking of the subject, are you with someone?" trent doesn't know where he got the courage to ask her that question "no, you were my first and only boyfriend and thanks to you i tell everyone that my ex is a football player." he laughed "and you? you're not the kind of player who appears in gossip portals, congratulations trent." she joked without even realizing that she had made arnold nervous, again "nah, i'm waiting..." he said "waiting for what?" yn asked and her eyebrow arched "my girl." trent replied "but do you know her or are you waiting to meet her?" one more question "i already know her."

arnold was about to confess something, yn didn't say anything else. inside she was a little uncomfortable "how can you be in love with someone who kissed you when you were 12?" she thought. yn thought that none of this made sense, this feeling of love she felt for someone who had kissed her in childhood beyond seeing him only on the television screen. "madness" this word that came to her mind every time she thought about the player.

"can i confess something to you?" trent asked and yn readily nodded. "when i was about 10 years old, i wrote my last letter to santa claus and i remember perfectly what i wrote there." a small pause "i wanted our childhood romance to last forever, that i would go through adolescence, adulthood and old age with you. it seemed silly, but it was a real feeling, something that i desired from the bottom of my heart even though i was still a child." yn was listening intently "i remember my heart breaking when i had to leave here to be closer to the training center and i remember you comforting me as much as you could, saying you would miss me but you were so happy to know i was going to fulfill my dream." another pause "and life went on, we lost touch and the good old man didn't fulfill my last wish. but I never forgot you for a second, i always remember you in the little things. i miss your hand running through my hair, your little kisses on my face and your little letters wishing me a good game." trent was smiling "i wanted to see you again, talk to you, but apparently you decided to live a life without social media and using your cell phone only when absolutely necessary." he laughed "why didn't you call me?" she asked "do you think i didn't try? you for sure turn off your cell phone and only call at dawn." he joked "i'm a very busy woman with college." another joke.

yn and trent stared at each other for a few minutes. yn didn't imagine that this would come out of trent's mouth. "basically, you told me that we were supposed to be together until today?" she broke the silence. "yes." he confirmed. "cool."��

"I was nervous about the possibility of meeting you today." yn admitted and trent looked surprised "i unfortunately didn't wish santa claus for us to be together forever. but just like you, i couldn't forget you either! i became a liverpool fan just to see you, seeing you running on the field even on the television screen, helped to kill the longing i felt."

"but you know what else, trent?" yn asked and trent shook his head "we're under a mistletoe" she pointed up and trent looked. "do you know what that means?" she asked "what?" trent pretended he didn't know "we should kiss." she smiled as did trent "oh, just like we did that time?" she nodded.

trent pulled yn closer and within minutes, their lips were already connected, just like when they were 12 years old.

"happy to know that nothing about you has changed, even the way you kiss." he commented "and i think mr. santa claus has granted your wish, yes, i'm absolutely sure that now it's forever."

#trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander x reader #football imagine #football blurb #football one shot #football x reader #footballer imagine #christmas prompts

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petriquors · 1 year ago

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POV: someone joins you on the balcony

You hate that your boss made you attend this charity gala while she’s on vacation. It’s her job to rub elbows with Gotham’s elite, not yours, and she did nothing to prepare you for all this small talk before jetting off to Bali with her beau of the week.

You finish your drink and fantasize about quitting.

With their stifling conversations, stuffy outfits, and barely edible teeny portions of food, formal events like this are absolutely suffocating. All you need is a minute in the fresh air. So, toward the end of cocktail hour, you indulge in your compulsion to see if the balcony door you spotted earlier is unlocked.

It opens on the first try.

It’s not a particularly large balcony, but you’re grateful that there’s no one out here but you. You close the door gingerly, leaving behind the metaphorical veil that makes you look and act like the perfect party guest by obscuring everything about you that makes you a real person.

For a blissful interlude, it’s just you, the moonlight, and the distant sounds of the city. If you close your eyes, you think you can hear your real life: the subway, late night pizza, binge-watching a show on the sofa you got off of an online buy nothing group.

“Is this balcony taken?”

You quickly turn your head to see the man who just intruded on your solitude. He’s perfectly average in all the right ways—average height, nice athletic build, dark hair, blue eyes, a navy tuxedo so dark it’s almost black. There’s a certain air about him, a hint of the unknown, a something-special that you can’t quite name. It’s as if all his pieces, while unremarkable on their own, fit together to create a breathtakingly beautiful puzzle.

And, since he’s already halfway out the balcony door, something compels you to say, “There’s room for one more.”

He’s careful to close the door instead of letting it swing shut. While he does, he looks at his hand on the gleaming brass handle as if he’s mentally cataloging which parts of himself are staying in the ballroom and which are coming outside with him. After a moment, his arm goes lax, his hands slide into his pockets, and he steps into the moonlight beside you.

“I don’t know,” he says through a crooked smile. “There’s a whole lot of brooding out here. Are you sure there’s room?”

You give him a sidelong glance as the corners of your mouth pucker, fighting a smile. You’re supposed to be moping, not…whatever this is. “What do you have to brood about?”

He grips the railing of the balcony and leans back hips-first, stretching out his arms and craning his neck to look out over the city. His body’s here, but his mind is miles away, maybe even in another universe. “The debilitating weight of other people’s expectations, eldest child syndrome, and a pesky fear of commitment.”

There’s a beat of silence during which you just blink at him. Then, he glances at you and his crooked grin is back, but there’s something pensive underneath the easy smile. It’s impossible to tell if he’s being facetious or brutally honest, but there’s a darkness in his eyes that says he’s trying to laugh through the pain.

He breaks the silence with a chuckle. “Sorry. I shouldn’t only talk about myself. Why are you brooding all alone?”

You pluck the little name tag you’re supposed to be wearing out of the pocket you shoved it into. It has your boss’s name, not yours. “My boss is sipping cocktails on the beach with a man half her age, and I’m here.”

“Wow, that is such a universal experience,” he teases in a monotone. It’s then that you notice he’s not wearing a name tag either. “Why didn’t you just say no? You’re busy. You have the stomach flu. You have a phobia of weird canapés.”

That smile you’ve been holding back finally appears on your face. “Because of the debilitating weight of other people’s expectations and eldest child syndrome. Also, I need to pay my rent.”

He catches on to what you’re doing immediately. His eyes sparkle like the stars and his face brightens like the moon, reflecting the light that you’re giving off. “So you don’t have a pesky fear of commitment?”

Yes, you think. No. Maybe. Honestly, it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone that you have no idea. What you do know is that something is happening to you on this balcony right now, and you hope it’s happening to him too.

Time seems to slow down, and both of you watch as his hand closest to you loosens, then shifts half an inch toward yours. You extend a pinky. He extends his in response, keeping only a centimeter of space between you like an unspoken promise.

You sense a kinship with him unlike what you’ve felt with anyone else tonight—or maybe ever—so you have to ask, “Who are you?”

Your mystery man presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as if you’ve asked him what the meaning of life is. Deftly, he dodges the question. “The most exciting part of your night?”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan. “And does he have a name?”

His grin widens. “Yup.”

Your heartbeat quickens. He stares at you with an intensity that makes the cosmos quake, and you stare right back, speaking a thousand words while saying nothing at all.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he jokes, and you can’t believe that an overused pun makes you short with laughter. “I’m Dick Grayson. Now you: what should really be on that name tag?”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #my stuff #my fluff #my dick grayson stuff #my dick grayson fluff #my batfamily stuff #my batfamily fluff

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chiskz · 1 year ago

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[ ▶️ ] . . . SKZ 사우나 (SKZ SAUNA) #1 & #2｜[SKZ CODE(스키즈 코드)] Ep.37 & Ep.38

┏ ♡𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @alyszaen , @smh-anon , @neohyxn , @stealanity , @alixnsuperstxr , @juliawritingblog , @rizzshimura , @elizalabs3

[xxx] - editors' notes ┛

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

└ Ep.37 ┐

♡ Aesthetic

When Felix enters the sauna, Chichi immediately quietly enters behind him and they sit inside together, a little pressed together as if that would somehow help them survive the heat [two boiled eggs].

CHICHI: I can't make it!

She called out and left the sauna on all fours after about a minute.

Changbin: If you can't stand five minutes in the heat, how can you stand seeing me on stage?

There was an awkward silence... [*cricket sound*]

As Seungmin was putting a mask on Hyunjin's face, Ichi reached over and took Hyunjin's hand gently.

CHICHI: Today I will be your manicurist, sir.

Hyunjin lifted his head up for a moment.

Hyunjin: Are you sure? Yours are always unpainted.

CHICHI: A good cook doesn't eat his dishes!

She assured quickly and took a cotton swab with liquid to wipe his nails first, then got down to her choice of nail polish.

CHICHI: Should I file them first?

She asked others, but more herself. Seungmin glanced at her from above the bowl with the mask.

Seungmin: No, because you'll still wipe his fingers...

CHICHI: Maybe it's a good thing, less work.

She replied as if nothing ever happened and got to work, and Hyunjin just looked at her with eyes big with fear [stressed ferret].

When Chichi finished Hyunjin's she sat down with Bang Chan and Jeongin with a sheet mask [all of them busy...]. She opened it with her teeth and, at the mirror, put it on her face, correcting it carefully with fingers.

CHICHI: Wow, it's really soft... How do I look?

Lee Know: Like a ghost.

He answered at once without even raising his head from above Han's nails. Ichi lowered her eyebrows. She squeezed out the rest of the serum from the package and approached Lino from behind, then began to massage it on his cheeks. Minho turned around immediately and hurriedly put the nail polish down on the floor, then pulled his towel off his head and started chasing her with it. Chichi squealed with laughter until she finally hid from Minho in the sauna. He, however, was fine with it - he sat down on the floor and leaned with his back against the sauna door so she couldn't get out. Chichi's face turned dark at this point...

In later scenes (after Chichi has already been released from the hot prison), Changbin can be seen in the background painting her nails just like his - he painted the nails of both of her pinky fingers pink, which they showed proudly in the scene where the members talked about what they received during their little spa time [perfect match of pink SKZ members!].

♡ Pillow Jenga

Lee Know: Let's do it by age, so Chichi begins!

Chichi laughed nervously and rubbed her fingers together.

CHICHI: Ah, what should I do...

She pondered a moment looking at the bottom row of Jenga pillows. She crouched by the tower and tried to pull out the middle pillow very carefully, but still a little too fast - the tower tilted and fell apart instantly. Chichi opened her mouth wide and froze as loud sounds rang out in the background - sounds of laughter, embarrassment, disbelief and disappointment.

Seungmin: How can you lose by being the first! After all, then how can it be the easiest!

Felix came up to her and crouched behind her embracing and shaking slightly.

Felix: How could you, how could you!

Chichi stood up and embarrassed faced the wall pretending to hit her forehead against it [total failure...].

Lee Know: It's time for punishment!

He opened the sauna door especially for her, and she went inside for three minutes without a word of objection.

I.N: I actually feel sorry for you.

He said that when Chichi lost in the second round as well. She looked at him hunched over near the sauna, from which she had only just emerged after her second punishment. Jeongin took her hand and took her with him to the cafeteria, where she could choose whatever she wanted on his private bill [the kindness of the youngest knows no limits].

└ Ep.38 ┐

♡ Consonant Game

Chichi was very focused, most of all of the members. Games that required knowledge of Korean were still stressful for her, and she was afraid that when she made a mistake the hate for her lack of knowledge of the language would return.

During the next song of the second round, Chichi did not speak at all, all the while silently looking at the given letters and moving her mouth mute. When she heard the hint that it was their choreographed song, Chichi jumped on Seungmin squealing loudly.

CHICHI: Red Lights, Red Lights!

Seungmin: Red Lights?

Bang Chan: Red Lights?

Everyone looked at the staff, who confirmed the answer, then their gaze immediately fell on Chichi.

HAN: She saved our food!

Changbin: Chichi, we apologize for everything!

He yelled pretending to cry with emotion.

Seungmin: She loves tonkatsu so much that it moved her brain cells.

After a successful game, everyone sat down to eat. When Hyunjin told a story from his childhood, Chichi also opened up and put down her chopsticks.

CHICHI: When I was young I had the opposite problem, it was impossible to get me to eat at all. I was able to not eat for days, because I just didn't feel hungry. Until one day I smelled something in our kitchen, something I hadn't known until then. When I went there it turned out that my mother was making tonkatsu. That was the first time I really craved food, I must have eaten about three plates. Since then I kept asking for it all the time! [this time she didn't have to - delicious tonkatsu on the Stray Kids table!]

Bang Chan: Who was the funniest person today?

I.N: Felix and... and Chichi.

Chichi stuck out her lower lip [the biggest loser of today].

Seungmin: She was condemned to the sauna practically all the time today.

HAN: I wonder why you chose the sauna and not the cold room.

Chichi looked at him and put down her chopsticks again.

CHICHI: Why didn't I do what?

She blinked in surprise.

CHICHI: I had the choice?!

Lee Know: No, we had the choice. You didn't.

He nodded and continued eating, while Chichi threw the soy sauce package at him.

Chichi was the last to get her key from Felix, as she didn't answer any previous questions in order to stay as long as possible and eat tonkatsu. She only left the dining room with Hyunjin and Felix.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

#stray kids 9th member #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop oc #stray kids oc #idol oc #stray kids female oc #stray kids added member #stray kids addition #skz imagines #idol!oc #idol!addition #idol!au

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itsmejee · 2 years ago

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lights, camera, action! | j.jk

↪︎ pairing | jeon jungkook x male reader

↪︎ genres | smut, pornstar au

↪︎ summary | young and desperate for money, you seek out and audition for a unique type of job.

↪︎ warnings | harddom!jungkook, sub!reader, pornography, jungkook is the casting director, implied age gap, filming sex, couch sex, rough sex, protected sex, anal sex, blowjob, face fucking, fingering, cum eating

↪︎ word count | 1.8k

↪︎ masterlist

“okay, would you like to start by introducing yourself for me.”

shifting yourself anxiously on the couch and nervously playing with your fingertips, you stared at the man in front of you that stood behind the camera that was planted just a few feet away from you for a brief moment before following his instructions. “hi, my name is y/n.”

“nice to meet you, y/n.” his voice was deep, sending tingles down your spine and creating goosebumps along your skin. “why don’t you talk a bit more about yourself, so that me and the viewers can know some of your background before we get started.”

you nodded, releasing a soft exhale. “i’m eighteen years old and a new college student in search for an easy job that pays good. my friend then recommended this to me, saying that i have the perfect body and personality for this.”

“they aren’t wrong,” the man behind the camera spoke up. “with your body and personality—the absolute perfect twink.” his compliment made heat spread across your neck and face, causing you to lift your hand up and conceal it from him.

“alrighty now.” the man then suddenly removed his head out from behind the camera, removing the device from its place on the tripod and taking it into his hands. “everything is set.”

your heart was now beating roughly inside your chest as he began approaching you, the palm of your hands sweating too. you finally got a chance to get a good look at him, not having the chance before since his face was always behind the camera the moment you entered the room. the first thing you noticed about him was how handsome he was, incredibly sexy with his shoulder length black hair, his muscles bulging and much more prominent in his choice of clothing—denim skinny jeans and black t-shirt.

it surprised you to know that he was just the casting director. with his looks and body, he could have easily become the best pornstar in the industry.

a gasp fell from your lips as he stood right in front of you, standing tall and using his free hand to cup your jaw and force you to look at him, his face once again blocked by the camera, the lenses staring directly at you. “are you ready?” you gave a small nod, feeling your heart stutter at the sight of his growing smirk. “okay then, get to work.”

your trembling hands went for his belt, undoing it and slipping it off before unbuttoning his pants having them join his belt on the floor, now leaving him in only his briefs and shirt. judging from his bulge through his boxers, you could already tell from that he was big, more than average.

you gently palmed him through his boxers, mouth watering at the feeling of his growing bulge underneath your palm. afterwards you slowly tugged down his briefs, gasping as his cock practically sprung out, the size making it dangle between his legs rather than stand straight up.

“wow,” you couldn’t help but admire the size, taking him into your hand, giving him a few slow pumps, taking in the moans that came out of him, the sound he made barely audible. “you’re so big…” you glanced up at him, but again, his face was blocked from the camera staring down directly at you.

the man was becoming impatient as his free hand went to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair and guiding you towards his crotch.

you stuck your tongue out and swirled around the tip of his cock, collecting his leaking precum and swallowing it before pressing a kiss on it. a small groan came out of the man in response.

you finally took him into your mouth, only managing to take half his length. you started bobbing your head, sucking and coating his cock in your saliva, and pumping whatever you could not fit with your hand—which was nearly half his size. the sound of the man’s groans got louder and faster.

“ah fuck,” he let out a moan, his grip on your hair tightening. “come on, baby boy. i know you can take more of me.”

you felt embarrassed. there had been maybe dozens of men that came in here before, were in your same exact position but could probably take more of his cock in their mouths, maybe even his entire length. and here you were, barely taking half. there would no way you would be satisfactory enough to be accepted into the industry.

but oh how wrong you were. the moment you entered his office, jeon jungkook know how much of a star you were going to be. from your soft, innocent looking eyes, to your delicious lips, and your mouth watering body—he knew that the viewers would enjoy you just as much as he was right now.

watching you struggle to take his cock only made him even more hard.

“here, let me help you.” you watched, mouth still stuffed with his cock, as he placed his camera on the armrest of the couch, making sure it was still angled right so that it still got you in sight but his face was blocked. he then placed his other hand on the back of your head, fingers lacing together in your hair. “tap my thigh if you need me to stop, understand?”

you simply nodded. jungkook then began thrusting his hips, forcing his cock deeper in your throat.

you gagged, your eyes watering but you endured, your hands moving to his muscular thighs, fingers digging into his flesh.

the sight before him only urged jungkook to go faster and harder, forcing your head towards him as he thrusted his hips at you, driving his cock deeper into your mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat with each thrust. your gags were louder and a few tears escaped from your eyes and slid down your face.

“fucking beautiful,” jungkook groaned, watching as he thrusted his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth, his length glistening with your saliva. “taking my cock like a good boy.” you could only muster out muffled words in reply, mouth wide and your lips molded perfectly around his cock.

jungkook suddenly pulled your head back and said while taking his cock out of your mouth. “that’s enough.” sensing your body tense up, he ran his thumb soothingly across your cheek. “stop worrying, you did good. it’s time to move onto the next part of your interview—turn around and bend over.”

you nodded, following his instructions. while you were doing that, jungkook went back to his desk and retrieved a small bottle of lube and a condom packet. when he turned back around, seeing the position you were in made his cock twitch. there you were, your back facing towards him with your knees on the couch and bent over the backside, exposing your ass to him.

when jungkook approached you, he admired your ass, caressing your plump flesh with his hand before pouring some lube onto his fingers, forcing two of them into you. the sound of your moans making him grin. “gotta prep you, baby boy. you want to be able to take my cock without any pain, right?”

you nodded, eyes clenched shut, teeth down on your bottom lip, and forehead resting against the top of the couch. “y-yes.”

jungkook smirked at the sound of your shaky voice, enjoying the sight of his fingers sliding in and out of you, caressing your ass with his other hand, raising his palm and bringing it down harshly on you. his two fingers soon became three, then four, thrusting in and out of you until he felt you relax around him.

“i think you’re ready.” jungkook stated, pulling his fingers out of you, smirking at the whine that came out of you, spanking you one last time before reaching over for the condom packet next to him, tearing it open and rolling it onto his length, then pouring some more lube onto him.

with one hand holding your hip and the other gripping his cock, jungkook guided his length towards your entrance and pushed himself into you. a deep groan came out of him at the tight feeling. despite prepping you, your walls still clenched around him as he forced more and more of his cock into you.

“ah fuck,” jungkook’s head was tilted back, lips parted and groaning. “still so fucking tight.”

“oh my—fuck!” you moaned out, fingers digging into the cushions of the couch and head resting on the top with your eyes clenched shut. “so b-big…”

jungkook couldn’t contain himself any longer. he began pounding into you at a ruthless pace, glancing at his camera every now and then, making sure it was getting this wonderful sight—his entire cock sliding in and out of you, glistening with your juices and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

“fuck fuck,” jungkook’s head was back, eyes closed as he savored the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his cock. his hands that were on your hips were now on your ass, squeezing the flesh of your cheeks before bringing his palm down on you, no doubt leaving behind a red hand print. “that’s it, baby.” he groaned loudly. “take my cock.”

your moans were only getting louder, fingers digging into the cushions of the couch and back arching. each deep thrust he gave you forced you deeper into the furniture, his fingers leaving marks along your skin. you could only let out cries and whimpers.

jungkook’s thrusts were becoming sloppy and rough, spanking your ass once again before moaning out in his deep, raspy voice, “shit, i’m close…”

it only took a few more thrusts from him before jungkook pulled his cock out of you and tore the condom off, his hand moving to your shoulder and turning you around to face him. he then placed his hand on the back of your head and forcing you closer to his cock as he began vigorously pump his length. “open your mouth, baby.”

you obeyed, opening your mouth wide and tongue out.

jungkook came with a loud groan, his cum spewing from his cock and landing on your tongue, some of it even managing to get around your lips and on your cheeks. you swallowed what you could and opened your mouth, showing him that you took down every drop of it.

“fuck you’re insatiable.” jungkook smirked, reaching over and taking his camera in his hand.

jungkook had it aimed directly down at you, making sure he got every detail of your stained face for the final cut of your audition—his other hand gripping his cock and sliding his tip across your lips, smearing his cum across them as you closed your eyes and savored the feeling, even moving your head around so that the tip of his cock would even glide across your face and decorate your cheeks and jaw with his cum.

the sight before him was heavenly.

“you’re going to be a star, baby boy.”

#bts #bts smut #bts x reader #bts x male reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x male reader #kpop x male reader

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teaberrii · 4 months ago

Text

You

One of the most interesting things you can say you did is voice acting for Rover, an artificial intelligence project. After a few years away, you return to Solaris, not expecting to get tangled up in the lives of two different friends with one thing in common: it all began with your voice.

Jiyan/You | Scar/You

Chapter notes: Thank you (again) to my good friend and senpai, hisami_kun, for giving me feedback on this before I released it to the world :3 If you know my stuff, then you'll know that I use italics for flashbacks. Well, now I'm going to try using italics whenever Rover speaks and whenever someone's on the phone. Hopefully, it won't get too confusing, but I think it'll turn out okay.

Chapter One: Your Voice

“You’re up earlier than usual.”

Jiyan is buttoning a white shirt in front of a mirror when Rover suddenly greets him from his digital watch that morning.

“Would you like your usual sleep report, Doc?”

“I’ve noticed a pattern.” Jiyan fixes his collar. “You’re only vocal about my sleep reports when I haven’t slept well.”

“Well, of course!” Rover answers as Jiyan leaves his large walk-in closet for the kitchen downstairs. “You’re a doctor, Doc. We wouldn’t want you falling asleep on the job.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Am I, really? Well, I can always send the data to Scar. He’ll know what to do.”

“That’s called a data breach. It has consequences.”

“So… When you gossip about me to Scar, that’s not considered a data breach?”

“That’s hardly gossiping,” he says, unamused.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s so I can be ‘better’, is that it, huh?”

Jiayn shuts the fridge with a carton of eggs in his hand. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“It’s what Scar wants. What if I’m already perfect?”

Jiyan’s mornings aren’t usually this lively. They’re actually rather quiet, considering he lives alone. But for the last couple of months, he’s been having company in the form of a voice.

The large monitor turned black, and a dramatic cyberpunk beat filled the room. A water drop formed on the top of the screen and fell, sending digital ripples until the name ‘ROVER’ formed on the screen.

A man spun around in his chair, one leg crossed arrogantly over the other. His smile was also just as cocky—a little psychopathic, some would describe. Only a few knew what his smile meant, and Jiyan was one of those people.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Jiyan asked.

His friend scoffed quietly. “This is the moment where you’re supposed to say”—his voice went up in pitch—”Wow, Scar! You’re so cool! This is state-of-the-art technology you’re developing here!”

Jiyan’s eyes returned to the monitor as the name on the screen faded and a greeting appeared.

Hello.

It slowly disappeared.

My name is Rover.

Again, it faded.

And you are?

The sound of fingers danced across a keyboard before Jiyan finally tore his eyes away from the monitor and toward Scar. “What are you doing?” Jiyan asked.

“What do you think? You’re helping me test this, right?”

One loud tap of the keyboard sent another message to appear on the dark screen.

Nice to meet you, Jiyan.

Again, it faded.

I’d like to learn a little more about you.

“What is this about?” Jiyan asked, skeptical of the questions being raised on the screen.

Scar smiled. “It’s doing exactly what it’s meant to be doing. Learning more about its new friend.” He grabbed Jiyan’s arm and pulled him closer to the brightly lit table with all of Scar’s funky electronics. “Just answer its questions, and it’ll take on a personality that matches your taste.”

Jiyan shouldn’t be too surprised. Scar had mentioned it before inviting him over to test his latest invention. Rover was Scar’s latest invention. It was an artificial intelligence he poured his heart and soul into for years for his graduate project. Jiyan saw it when they roomed together. The red eyes. The dark circles. So, when his sleep-deprived roomie asked to give “his baby a lil’ test,” he'd agreed.

Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

“Hello.”

Was that a voice?

A soft chuckle, and then it spoke again.

“Are you surprised?”

It sounded like a woman.

“Did it… just talk?” Jiyan asked.

“Of course I did. What did you expect? And don’t get me started on pronouns, sir.”

Did they… she… just talk back to him?

“I can tell you two will have so much fun together.” Jiyan didn’t need to look at Scar to know he was smiling.

“Can I turn it off?” Jiyan asked flatly.

“How rude.” He looked back at the screen. “I know you’re looking at me, and if I could, I'd stare at you right back."

“Are you sure there isn’t something wrong with your questionnaire?”

Scar put his hands behind his head. “Trust me, friend. The data never lies.”

The sound of sizzling eggs on a frying pan fills the kitchen. Is it still considered testing if Rover’s been getting increasingly human-like the more time it spends with him? Jiyan doesn’t know. All he knows is that there are just a few more months left. Just as he effortlessly flips his omelette, his phone goes off.

“Mornin’ Doc,” Scar says.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” Jiyan says, going right back to his breakfast after leaving his phone on the counter.

“Now he’s stealing my lines,” Rover interrupts.

Jiyan turns off the stove. “Your lines, huh?”

“Looks like the tests are going well,” Scar says, and Jiyan can hear the smugness in his tone. “Anyway, what's your schedule like next week, Doc?”

Rover clears its throat. "Busy... But he should be able to squeeze in time for a guys' night out."

Jiyan already knows Scar wants to go drinking, and with Rover being so honest, it's getting increasingly difficult to hide anything from Scar.

“I thought you would be busy working on your thesis."

“It’s because I’m busy working on my goddamn thesis that I need to get out,” Scar says, and Jiyan can picture him frowning. “I can’t look at it anymore, or I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

“I thought it was already gone,” Rover deadpans.

Scar scoffs. “Stop smiling, fool.”

But Jiyan doesn’t.

“Anyway,” Scar continues, clearing his throat. “You're coming to have fun with me. No questions asked.”

◆◆◆

Two large suitcases are fully opened on the wooden floor of a small room. Clothes are littered across the bed, and your closet and drawers are opened and nearly empty. You’re standing next to your bed, folding a cream-coloured blouse into the suitcase when your sister’s voice comes from the phone.

“It feels like you graduated just yesterday,” she sighs.

You chuckle. “Yeah, well, I'm finally going home. Isn't that what you always wanted?”

"At first..."

You almost roll your eyes. "What? Did you get used to living alone?"

“You know what the first thing we should do when you get here?”

“Let me guess…” You pick up a cute tank top. “A spa date?”

“No, silly! Drinks! And fun, of course.”

You shake your head with a small smile. “Yeah, sure, if you can stay awake past eleven.”

“Are you sure you aren’t talking about yourself? Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet that cute guy again.”

You put down a pair of shorts. “What cute guy?”

“Did you forget already?” she deadpans. “The guy you went to volunteer for?” You’re racking your brains when your sister sighs. “Rover?”

And then you remember.

It was just after the finals of your last semester at the University of Solaris. The adrenaline and excitement from finishing your last exam had died down pretty quickly after returning to the apartment you shared with your sister. Your four years were finally over, but so were the laughs, tears, and conversations you and your sister shared in this cozy, little space you called home. It was just last week when you decided you would move out as you had gotten a job offer outside of your hometown. Maybe you were being overly dramatic, but the nostalgia hit you like a full-speed train.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone to see that you got an email with a subject that immediately caught your eye: CHANGE THE WORLD WITH YOUR VOICE

It was an ad for student volunteers to read lines for a graduate project. Curious, you reviewed the details, finding it interesting that you’d technically become a voice actor for Rover, a work-in-progress artificial intelligence You kept scrolling until you saw an email contact. You still had time before your move, so... why not? You were technically still a student.

What was the worst that could happen?

“I can’t believe you still remember him,” you say, zipping up one of your suitcases.

You still remember the groggy yet oddly attractive voice when you talked to Scar over the phone. When you finally met the guy, a tall man with grey hair and red roots, you almost changed your mind because of his bad-boy demeanour. It was like he stepped out of a novel. Even his nickname was fishy. Scar? Maybe he liked The Lion King a little too much.

It wasn’t until you’d gotten to know him a little better that you realized he was just a little… rough around the edges. You had told your sister about this volunteer experience, and she was so curious that she dug for his socials. Now that you thought about it, you still didn’t know his real name.

“Did you ever hear from him after that?” You zip your suitcase shut. “What happened with Rover anyway?”

“You’re asking”—your voice sounds a little strained as you haul it up—”the wrong person.” You sit on the bed. “It’s not like we kept in touch. And, who knows? Maybe Rover got scrapped.”

“What if it didn’t?” You pick up your phone. “What if someone’s finding comfort in your voice right now?”

◆◆◆

“Doc, wake up!” Jiyan immediately flinches, and the words on his laptop screen slowly return to focus. “See? This is what you get for your poor sleeping habits.” He rubs the space between his brows with two fingers. “You need to start getting your sleep schedule back on track.”

A knock at the door makes Jiyan lower the volume on his watch.

“Come in,” he says.

A nurse walks in, but she cautiously looks around. “Were you talking to someone?”

Jiyan smiles kindly. “Do you need something?”

She puts a folder on his desk. “We got a request from a family who would like you to become their son’s doctor.” Jiyan picks it up and opens it. “But…” The nurse looks down. “We don’t know how effective that would be because of his diagnosis.”

Jiyan tightens his grip around the folder when he sees what he will be dealing with. The NovaFei. His heart races, and he briefly sees his watch flash with a message from Rover: Abnormal heart rate detected.

“I’m sorry. There… There is no cure.”

A young Jiyan leaned forward and grabbed the doctor by the collar as his mother quickly put her hands on his shoulders. “Jiyan!”

“If there’s no cure"—Jiyan shook him violently—"then what can you do?” When the doctor stayed quiet, Jiyan shook him again. “There has to be something you can do! Or, are you saying we’re just going to sit and watch my brother die?”

The nurse’s eyes are on the folder as Jiyan puts it back on his desk. “The family requested you because of your research done in this area. They believe you’ll be able to help”—she pauses briefly—”slow down the disease.”

Jiyan is still staring at the young boy’s photo until it isn't a stranger he sees but his younger brother. He quickly looks back at his monitor just as the phone on his desk goes off. The nurse quickly bows once and steps out.

“Your next patient is here, Doctor,” a woman says as soon as Jiyan answers the call. “Can I send him in?”

“Yes,” Jiyan says, quickly composing himself.

He puts the phone on the receiver.

“According to my records, you did quite a bit of research on a disease called the NovaFei… You never mentioned this before, Doc.”

“Do I need to?”

“Well… It’s another thing I could add to my database about you—”

“There's no need.”

Then, the door opens, and Jiyan sees his watch screen flash black.

◆◆◆

Sometime next week

“Don’t tell me you’re going out in that.”

Jiyan is fixing his collared shirt in the mirror when Rover suddenly cuts in. His stoic expression remains unchanged as he asks, “What’s wrong with it?”

“You’re going to party, Doc. Not…” Jiyan can imagine someone looking him up and down with an eyebrow raised. “Not a business meeting.”

He turns around. “I don’t see what’s wrong with how I’m dressed. And… might I correct you, it’s just a few drinks.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t try to pull that on me. That’s what they all say.” Jiyan has a thin black jacket draped over his arm as he walks out of his room and heads downstairs. “Trust me, Doc. No matter how old you are, it’s never just a few drinks.”

“Sounds like someone wishes they could physically tag along.”

Rover scoffs loudly. “Oh, okay. Is this what we’re doing now? Don’t get all cocky just because you have a body.” There was a brief pause. “You know… What do you think I’d look like if I did have a body?”

“...I choose not to answer that.”

“What? Why not?”

Jiyan sighs. “Because you’ll find a way to turn the tables on me whatever I say.”

“Well, just you wait. I’m smart enough to know that I’m based on someone, so whoever it is, I bet I look absolutely stunning.”

Jiyan grabs his car keys and heads out the door.

The drive to the pub is a short and pleasant one, but Jiyan can do without Rover switching songs in the car every five minutes. He parks the car and as he steps out, he notices two women near the entrance. He walks past the one closest to the door and heads inside before he hears her voice.

“Is this place new?” you ask.

“Yup!” Your sister pulls the door open and gestures for you to head in first. “After you.”

The first thing you smell is the smoke of an open fire as you step onto the stone floor. Overlapping conversations and glasses clinking together drown out your sister's voice behind you at first until she comes up beside you.

“Well, what do you think so far?" your sister asks. "It’s a nice break from all the moving, right?”

You'd been back in Solaris for about a week, and despite it being your hometown, it felt oddly different. Maybe it was because you were a different person now.

You and your sister are sitting at the bar when you say, “It’s cozy.” You look around. “And surprisingly clean.”

She waves the bartender over, but you don't hear what she says when the live band starts playing in a corner of the pub. On the opposite end of the pub sits two men beside each other. Both have half-empty beer glasses in front of them.

“Is it just me, or do you have something on your mind?” Jiyan is absentmindedly toying with his silver ring when Scar asks the question and leans closer. “Don’t tell me it’s woman troubles.”

“Well, a woman was the cause of it.”

Jiyan side-eyes his watch in response to Rover’s comment.

“It’s work-related,” Jiyan says, sipping his beer.

Scar swings an arm around him. “Okay, listen, we’re here to have fun, goddammit. And fun”—his eyes land on a tall woman wearing a flattering black dress—”we will have.”

“Doc’s idea of fun might be a little different than what you have in mind.”

“Oh? Then, tell me, Rover. What does Jiyan like to do for fun?”

“Well… I can confirm nothing that involves the opposite sex, which is a little concerning.”

Jiyan lightly coughs after taking another swig of his beer as Scar laughs. “Concerning, huh? Why's that?”

“Doc’s not letting loose. He’s a little too uptight about life.”

“Not everyone has the same definition of fun,” Jiyan says flatly.

“According to my records, aren’t building solid human relationships a foundation for a happy life? Am I wrong?”

Scar nudges his friend. “Well, Jiyan? Is Rover wrong?”

“I fail to see how being 'uptight' about life and building human relationships relate to each other," Jiyan answers nonchalantly.

"All human relationships gotta start somewhere," Scar says as if stating the obvious. "If you're too uptight, you can't start anything." He puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don't think. Just feel.”

Jiyan doesn’t even turn to watch his friend approach the woman in the pretty black dress.

“It baffles me that you two are friends. One’s a social butterfly, the other’s a…”

“...A jerk?”

Thinking that it’s Rover, Jiyan asks, “Did you just—”

“Hold up. That wasn’t me.”

Jiyan turns around, missing you and your sister walking by.

A short distance away, your sister turns to you. “What wasn’t you?”

You're about to answer her when a man at the bar catches your eye. His teal hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and his jawline is so sharp that it might cut through steel. When his yellow eyes land on you, you look away. Yet, you can't shake the feeling that he's still looking at you... like a like a curious, calm dragon.

“Scar?” your sister asks incredulously.

You turn just in time to see a familiar man walking toward you and your sister. His eyes are shining, and your jaw almost drops. Is that really who you think it is?

"Well, well, what a small world." Scar has a hand in his pocket when he turns to your sister. "I don't believe we’ve met… Have we?”

Your sister loops her arm in yours. “We haven't! But, um, I’m her sister." She looks at you in excitement. "She's told me about you.”

"Wha—"

Scar looks at you. “It’s been a long time.”

You awkwardly clear your throat. "You... You're not pretending to remember me, right?"

Scar scoffs. "Why in the world would I do that?" He chuckles. "You were one of the better ones I worked with. So, of course, I’d remember you." He leans down so he's on eye level with you. "But gotta say, I’m surprised you remember me.”

“It’s hard to forget someone who yells at you to speak with more emotion,” you deadpan.

“Hey, I was only doing my job.” Then, he looks past you and grins. “Ah, right on time.”

You look over your shoulder and almost gasp that the same man you saw earlier is walking towards you.

Scar wraps a friendly arm around Jiyan. “Meet the voice behind your beloved Rover.” You and Jiyan meet eyes before Scar grabs Jiyan's wrist and lifts it, giving you a clear view of Jiyan's watch. “Rover’s finally in its testing stages, and”—Scar pats Jiyan’s chest—”this guy’s nice enough to test it out for me. And, it just so happens that his Rover uses your voice.”

“Wow, so it’s like me… but with a body!”

Your eyes immediately go to the walking watch. You shouldn’t be surprised but you still can’t find the words to describe how you feel.

Jiyan gently shrugs off Scar's grip and gives him a deadpan look. "Unfortunately, I can't turn it off yet." His eyes land on you. "Not yet, at least."

“Wow, rude.”

Jiyan notices your little smile.

Your sister nudges you. "See? What did I tell you?"

"What?" Scar asks. "Did you think it got scrapped or something?"

Guess he's also a mind reader.

"Oh, honey, I'd never let this get scrapped with the amount of effort I had to go through."

"What did you just call me?" you ask.

"Don't mind him. It's a nickname for all the girls he likes."

"Your Rover is a little too honest," Scar deadpans.

"It's something you could change," Jiyan answers.

A saxophone solo goes off, and Scar gestures to grab drinks. Soon, you're watching him and your sister walk off, talking like they're old friends. A loud cheer goes off, and once it quiets, you hear Jiyan say, "I haven't formally introduced myself." He holds out his hand. "I'm Jiyan."

The world stops moving, and a rush flows throughout your body when your hand touches his.

As you let go of his hand, Jiyan’s watch flashes. It’s for just a moment, but you swear you see it say:

Abnormal heartbeat detected.

End notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for a long time, so I finally polished it up more and sent it off into the world. I haven't decided who the final pairing is going to be, so... honestly, this will be just as big of a mystery to everyone as it is to me LOL But I've always wanted to try writing love triangles, and crossing my fingers that this will turn out okay. This story is meant to get me back into my usual writing groove... so it won't be very long.

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @totromanticfool

#jiyan x reader #scar x reader #wuthering waves #jiyan x you #scar x you

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