#i haven’t read anything recently like this but i definitely have read some

[wishchip106]

when you read a fix-it fic that magically un-paralyzes Charles

okay…

[pussymasterdooku]

.

[burrowdarling]

Like I Do (18+)

Summary: It had been a rough time for you since the Bengals season came to an end, it felt like nothing could go your way. Instead of letting Joe in, you shut him out. He takes his time showing you what you mean to him the best way he knows how.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: oral (female receiving), praise, dirty talk, feeling down, negative talk, definitely missing stuff so MDNI

Note: Hi! Surprise! This was something that came to mind and I just sat and busted it out while watching the games today. I do still have a texting fic coming out in the morning as planned, so take this as a bonus. I hope you all enjoy! (not proofread, apologies!)

Word Count: 3.2k

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Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You started the week, feeling like you could take on the world. You made a plan, things seemed to be going well enough at work, it was as if nothing could bring you down from your high. Except there was something and that feeling of invincibility didn’t last very long unfortunately. After the games on Sunday, you could feel it in Joe too. The tension in the household was prevalent, making it hard to keep up the peppy act when you weren’t feeling in very high spirits either. Sure, you were used to your mood sometimes feeling low, able to push through the week while you looked forward to the weekend. This week just felt particularly tough. Everything felt like an uphill battle, getting yourself out of bed, managing your workload with being back in the office, and keeping the house together. Joe had been busy himself with some meetings about changes to the team, putting in long days at the facility and drowning himself in workouts at the gym or film in his office. You knew this was typical for him, but with your current state it felt like the world was closing in around you.

As if the tension at home wasn’t enough, you had to hear it from your coworkers, the guys specifically, about the Bengals not making the playoffs. It was as if they knew exactly what they were doing, feigning for a rise out of you. The feeling of your skin heating everytime it comes up while trying to maintain your composure. You knew Joe tried his hardest to get them to even have a possible chance, realizing other people didn’t think the same way. Your social media was flooded too from “fans” making comments about how Joe could do better than you, he was too successful to be with “someone like you”. Making statements about how Joe didn’t need anyone holding him back, acting like they knew him and his best interests.

It wasn’t just what people said though, it felt like anything you wore didn’t suit you. You were usually a confident person, able to brush off any negativity that was thrown your way. Secure in your style, your personality, especially your relationship with Joe. He always made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. Recently, with him being gone as much as he was, it was easy to feel like he was doing it out of spite. Maybe he was reading the same things you were and was too much of a coward to admit it to your face. You knew deep down these thoughts weren’t true, but they were too loud to shut out. You were getting sick and tired of all of the outside noise. Instead of drowning it out like usual, you found it to be suffocating. It was pulling you into a spiral, one you haven’t felt in ages. You felt like you weren’t good enough, pretty enough, capable even.

There were times, when one thing could knock you down by the knees and make you feel weak. It would shut down some of your defenses, making you more susceptible to nitpicking and criticism. You knew what you signed up for when you started dating Joe, willing to persevere with whatever life would throw at you to be the person you loved. Everything else just felt so heavy that you started to believe some of the things they were saying. If everyone says he’s better off, I’ll make sure I’m out of his way.

You tried your best to throw yourself into your work, getting as head as you were able to distract yourself from your thoughts that were swirling. You stopped putting in as much effort to your clothes, wearing anything you could that wouldn’t bring attention to your frame. You stuck to your office, only being around your coworkers when you had to, which even then you tried your best to avoid at all costs.

As the week went on, Joe started to be around more which made him harder to avoid. Things were finally ironing out for a plan for the next season, making him more available and able to start enjoying his offseason with the person he loved. He knew he was being a jerk unintentionally, leaving early and coming home late to get things done. He knew he had a tendency for throwing himself into things and blocking out everything else, the repercussion being that you were caught in the crossfire. He never meant to hurt you, he was trying to do better and be better for you, more present even when it was hard. With the offseason starting, he knew he needed to make you a priority. The only problem was that it seemed like you were avoiding him.

Joe wanted to do better, show you how much he cared for you and everything you did for him. He knew he couldn’t make up for how he's acted or the lost time together, but he could start now by putting his best foot forward. Joe was able to see how much time and effort you put into making your house a home, wanting to do something nice back for you. He knew how much you loved his cooking, a rarity during the season due to his hectic schedule. He made a nice meal for you, cooked your favorite while he set the table with flowers and candles. He waited by the door for you to get home, feeling like an eternity before you finally walked through the door.

He took in your appearance, your clothing a lot baggier than you usually wore. You had dark circles under your eyes, your shoulders were dropped low and were visibly shrinking into yourself. His heart was cracking in two, not being able to shake the feeling like he was the one that did this to you. If he was around more, gave you more of his attention. He could only hope that thing would go up from here.

“Hi hunny, I made us some dinner. I hope you’re hungry, it’s your favorite,” Joe said, opening his arms to embrace you. You stepped into his arms, lightly wrapping your arms around his waist. It was nothing compared to your usual hug, feeling half-ass and resistant. Joe tried to shake it off, wondering if you were just tired.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just a long day,” was all you said, letting him go and walking towards the table where Joe had everything set. You felt tears well up in your eyes, doing everything in your power to hold them back. You wouldn’t let him see you break down, not when you saw just how much effort he put into tonight. The inner voice in your head nagged at you, telling you that you didn’t deserve this, him. You tried your best to stifle it, to get through dinner so then you could take the time to be alone.

Dinner was mostly silent, your responses were short and sweet to any conversation he attempted to start with you. Joe was trying his hardest to pull you out of this funk you were in, bringing up anything and everything to get you to talk. You silently cleared the table, trying your best to stay out of Joe’s reach. You were aware of his attempts, but you were too absorbed in your negative spiral to truly see he was trying.

“I’m gonna go shower” you said quietly as you started to walk out of the kitchen.

“Can I join you?” Joe asked, hopeful to have some time to reconnect with you. He missed you, all of you.

“I’ll just take one myself, take some alone time” your voice slightly wavering at the direct confrontation, your eyes facing the floor not able to meet Joe’s gaze.

Joe wasn’t having any of it, always showering with you whenever he had the chance to. It was something you both enjoyed, treating it as a way to reconnect with one another at the end of the day. He could tell there was something off with you, having a feeling he knew part of what was happening. You were avoiding his touch, sleeping just out of his reach whenever you got too close.You were making sure to keep your distance, though it was painful to do it.

You were stopped short before you could fully leave the kitchen. You felt Joe’s large hand circle around your smaller wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His touch instantly brought you a sense of relief, you didn’t know how much you truly missed him.

“Come with me” Joe said, sliding his hand down to meet your hand while guiding you up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He didn’t let go of your hand until he stopped in front of your floor length mirror that was sitting in the corner of your shared bedroom. He lightly pulled you so that you were standing in front of him, letting him loom behind you, your height difference evident.

“Why am I in front of our mirror?” You questioned, looking at him through the reflection.

“Tell me what you see,” Joe said, looking straight ahead, his voice coming off low and firm. 

You tilted your head to the side, confused “me and you?”

“No, tell me what you see when you look at yourself” he settled his hands on your hips, his grip tender as he stroked your hips gently with his thumbs creating goosebumps across your skin.

Your eyes caught his in the mirror, feeling more comfortable than holding your own stare. 

“Don’t look at me, sweetheart, look at you. Tell me all the good things you see.”

It was hard to hold your own stare when you were wishing you could look anywhere else. Joe could read you like a book, could tell you were feeling off about yourself. He was always the first one to reassure you whenever he got the chance, this time you never gave him one. It seemed like he was taking matters into his own hands.

“But you’re so much nicer to look at” you said with a light laugh, but Joe wasn’t having any of it. His eyes told you everything you wanted to know and directed your gaze back to yourself, I’m not playing games.

“Umm, I like my eyes,” you said, sounding more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than tell Joe.

Joe lightly chuckled behind you. “Why?”

“I like how they change colors depending on what I’m wearing, I can always make them look nice whenever I do makeup.”

“So you like your eyes, how they change.” Joe moved his head so that he was resting his jaw against the top of yours, using you as a chin rest though his eyes never left yours. “Tell me what else.”

“I don’t want to come off like I’m bragging or anything, not like there’s much to-”

“Pointing out what makes you beautiful isn’t bragging, it’s stating facts. Though you could brag about it all you want, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I guess I like my hair, though I feel like it’s too short for my face since I got it cut.”

“I like it short, it makes it easy for me to see all the cute little faces you make or when I make you blush.”

Like clockwork, your cheeks immediately started to heat at his admission. 

“My boobs could be bigger.”

“Your boobs are perfect, they fit just right in my hands,” he says as his hands slide up your front and rest on your chest. You feel his breath catch in his throat at his discovery. “No bra?”

You shook your head, meeting his eyes again in the mirror, “I have felt like putting one on to be honest, felt like extra effort.”

He dropped his hands to the hem of your sweatshirt, looking at you for permission to take it off. With a soft nod, he slipped the fabric over your head, leaving you shirtless and feigning for his touch to be back on your skin. Joe moaned at the sight of you topless, he always loved your tits.

“I want you to see what I see. A beautiful, sexy woman who I get to call mine. It’s not just your outer beauty either, you have so many other wonderful qualities about you that I fall harder for each and every day.”

Joe moved to be in front of the mirror, turning his body to face me. He gave me a mischievous wink before dropping to his knees in front of me.

“I’m gonna eat you out while you watch yourself in that mirror. You’re gonna see exactly what I get the pleasure of seeing every time I go down on you, every time I get you under me or riding me. The one catch is you have to keep your eyes there, if you stop then I stop. Got it, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help, but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. It was truly a challenge he was posing, one that made your skin prickle with heat just thinking about it. “And how exactly are you gonna know if I stop?”

“Easy, my eyes will be on you making sure your eyes are on yourself.”

With his gaze never leaving yours, he grabs ahold of the top of your jeans and pulls them down, taking your panties with them as they slip down your legs. Joe paused to slip the sneakers off your feet before completely taking the clothing from your legs, leaving you naked standing above him.

“Absolutely fucking beautiful” he mumbled, with his gaze on your legs as he ran his hands up your bare skin. Joe paused at your knees, moving to spread you open. His hands continued up your thighs to spread you wider, the anticipation burning hotter inside of you. When Joe’s eyes land on your pussy, you sink your teeth into your lower lip to fight back a groan, feeling your heart rate increase by the look in his eyes.

“Look at you, already so wet for me.” Joe licked a quick stripe through your center, immediately making your head fall back. He gave you a quick smack to your thigh, pulling you out of your trance. “All for me?”

“Always for you,” you whispered, a sharp intake of breath hitting your lungs when he trails his fingers gently through your slit finishing his pass with a short brush to your clit. Your body felt electric, his touch igniting you leaving heat in its wake. 

Your comment earned a strong groan from Joe in response,”now that sounds like my girl.”

He placed gentle kisses to both of your hip bones, showering you with praises each time his lips touched your skin. It was like he was slowly putting you back together one kiss at a time.

“Beautiful.” kiss.

“Smart.” kiss.

“Kind.” kiss.

"Funny." kiss.

“Generous.” kiss.

“Stunning.” kiss.

You lost track of how many, the praises continually spilling out of his mouth. Making his way across your belly as he trailed his way to the apex of your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace, at least to you. It felt like an eternity passed before he finally had his mouth on you, 

Everything felt overwhelming, it getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open let alone on yourself in the mirror. It felt like his touch was everywhere, your senses heightened. Everything he did felt amazing, your hands were knotted through his hair as you held on, trying your best to stay standing. His mouth was relentless on your wet heat, taking everything he could get from you. It was hard for you to admit to yourself, but you looked hot like this. You had this god of a man on his knees before you, his mouth devouring you like you were his last meal. You let the feeling wash over you, a moan slipping past your lips as you looked down at Joe.

Sure as shit, his eyes were on you, watching your every move. He smiled against your pussy briefly before getting back into the moment and sucking your clit into his mouth. Slipping two of his slender fingers into you, he began to pump them in and out, slow at first and gradually increasing speed. He arched them just right, hitting your spot with the right amount of pressure time after time. You could feel the knot building in your stomach, finding it hard to hold back any longer.

“I’m not gonna last long,” you breathed out, unsure of your voice.

“You don’t need to hold back, come for me. I want to taste you pretty girl.”

It didn’t take much to fall apart above him, his name falling past your lips in rapid succession as your orgasm washed over you. You rode out your high, pulling his head more into your pussy, earning a satisfied groan from Joe at your actions. He always loved when you would tackle what you needed from him.Your orgasm felt more intense standing up, leaning on Joe for support while you gained your bearings.

When you finally came to, you released Joe from your grip and let him up for air. Your hands trailed down from his hair to his jaw, lifting his chin to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. Everything just became so heavy this week and I know how hard everythings been for you, I didn’t want to put anything else on your plate,” you said honestly, watching Joe’s eyes soften at your words.

“You can always come to me with whatever you’re feeling no matter how I am, don’t you ever forget that. You’re so goddamn important to me.”

You smiled down at him, following him as he stood up from the floor, his eyes never leaving yours as he towered over you. He brought his hands to rest on your hips, pulling you into him to rest his forehead on yours.

“So how do you feel now, hmm? It was so hot watching you, I could see when you really saw it in the mirror. My girl finally is realizing just how much of a goddess she is.”

A new wave of blush crept up your cheeks, you knew he was right. It was hard to admit that this worked as well as it did. You had a new wave of confidence in yourself, knowing you could take what you want, what you deserved. Joe had a way of making you feel confident in yourself, you just needed a reminder. 

“I don’t want it to go to my head or anything, but there was something about having you on your knees for me. Having someone as strong and powerful as you at my mercy was a major confidence boost. I’d want you with less clothes next time though.”

“Baby, I’m always at your mercy, you're my absolute weakness. I’ll be on my knees for you anytime, anywhere just say the word. You were a good girl and listened to me though and good girls get rewarded. Get on the bed, I’m not done showing you yet.”

[tusk-rumours]

top button ༉‧˚. — sam winchester x gn!reader

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

word count: 0.9k

summary: that patch of chest at the top of sams flannel is just so kissable.

warnings: mentions of feet?? other than that none i don’t think

a/n: okay so this is something short bc my laptop is broken so i have to use my shitty old one and it's just a little (lot) awful :) so i haven’t really written in a while, but this is just something short i’m putting out! i’ll write about sam regardless lmao. and good news my laptops getting fixed in a few days, so prepare to be sick of me :) but anyway enjoy 🫶

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Considering all of Sam's beautiful features, you weren't sure why you had been so caught up on this one tiny detail for the past half hour. He was in one of his flannels as per usual, currently pacing the floor of the little motel room with the coroner's report in his hand. You'd been watching from where you sat with your legs stretched out on the bed, balancing the laptop on your thighs.

You guys had just recently caught on a case after reading about a few deaths in a rural town, where all the vics had several bones ripped from their bodies. What puzzled you guys was that it wasn't the same bones every time. It was like they were chosen at random.

Sam had that crease formed between his brows that he got when he was thinking, confused, or judgy, and you felt a strong desire to rub your thumb there, followed by a kiss. But right now you were more focused on that little patch of skin that was exposed at the top of his flannel. Whenever he wore button downs he always kept the top one undone, exposing a little bit of bare chest. It was so simple and normal, but you found it so lovely (and sexy).

You tried looking back at your screen, that was on some really sketchy website that you had to search the depths of the internet for, but you were just so distracted. You found this case interesting. It was really interesting. What the hell was so captivating about that tiny patch of skin? Of course you found every single thing about him hot, there was no doubt about that. But it wasn't even like it got you hot and bothered. It didn't make you wanna pounce him, it made you soft.

And so, you slide your laptop onto the bed, padding over. He's still captivated by the report.

"The only repeated bone is the humerus, which was two out of five vics. That is the most random bone eve— oh" He hadn't noticed at all that you'd come and snuck up on him, moving the paper so he can see your face.

You don't say a word, smiling sweetly before you lean up on your toes, steadying yourself with your hands gently on his waist, zeroing in on his chest and pressing a long, gentle kiss to that bit of exposed skin. Sam honestly doesn't know what to do. You've never done this before, and he can't figure out where it's come from. Obviously you’ve done many sweet things to him, but you’ve never kissed there before. Despite that, he lets you, because honestly he'd let you do anything you want with him.

You've almost argued with him about that several times before. Sam is adamant about getting your consent whenever you guys do something sexual or something new, but when it's you asking, it's always 'You don't have to ask. It's you, there's nothing I'll hate. I promise.' And you've let him know full well that that's ridiculous. He can be such a hypocrite sometimes.

He loves anything you do, and definitely likes you kissing him anywhere. There's really nowhere he wouldn't let you kiss. He'd probably get a bit uncomfortable if you wanted to kiss his feet, but if you really begged he'd let you. He'd just be pouty that he couldn't kiss you for the next few hours.

A hand comes up to gently card through your hair as you continue to press sweet butterfly kisses to the his bare chest that's peeking.

"...honey?" He questions after a few moments, his voice quiet and a little confused.

All you answer with is a hum, your gentle affection continuing.

This easily could've turned into something more, your fingers could've moved to the button below and undone it, then the next, and the next. But you didn't. The most your fingers did was trace along his waist, one hand creeping up to his shoulder, lightly grazing his collar.

The report drops to the floor with the sound of rustled paper, and his other arm wraps around your waist, his forearm pressing into your lower back.

"Honey, you wanna tell me what you're doing?" He whispers, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

"Giving you kisses." You mumble, like an obvious fact. His skin is warm under your lips, the soft cotton of his flannel tickling your jaw.

"...Yeah, but why there?" He says slowly.

"Because," A little kiss. "You keep this button undone and I love it."

That gets a little laugh out of him, his long fingers gently scratching your scalp.

"You like that?" He says, a little amused that you find such a random, regular detail important enough to appreciate. Despite his biased (and wrong) opinion, everything about him is important enough to appreciate.

All he gets in response is another little hum, your lips continuing long kisses to his chest, your work becoming a little messy now.

"You're ridiculous, hon." He says, as if he doesn't find things like kissing your fingers when your nail polish chips a worthy excuse to kiss them.

Your lips quirk just a little as you continue with your kisses, inhaling the familiar scent of him. His flannel smells like the laundry detergent from the laundromat, and his chest smells like the cologne you bought him for his last birthday.

You both stand like that for how long, neither of you could say. Sam swears he can feel his heart coating his shoes and making a puddle around his feet from how much it's melting. You always find ways to be so sweet to him, and he doesn't quite understand how you continue to torment his heart in the best way, but you do. And he doesn’t understand how he can torment yours either, and he likely won’t ever will. But as he watches you kiss him like this, he believes it just a little.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!��

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Unprofessional

This wasn't part of the deal.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, Unstable AU, set prior/during the Jungkook storyline, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut

Wordcount: 4.5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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He’s not sure how, or when this happened.

It’s been not even a full three weeks at this point, and you’re currently happily reading a new book about how to treat and prevent interplanetary bacterial infections, a book he’d bought you just recently after you’d shown interest in it. Now that, in itself, is exactly what you should be doing- after all, that’s why he took you in, and that’s why you’re here. What definitely did escalate however, is how much he spends on things regarding you that aren’t necessary.

Proper bedding, new clothes, a more comfortable identification collar, a new AC unit in his ship, hell, he’s even started to study himself about what you should properly eat to stay healthy. This isn’t what he thought this would be like. And the worst part about it-

Every time he sees your amazed expression, and hears your genuine gratitude, he feels all warm inside, distinctive purring sound of satisfaction threatening to start sounding the moment you look happy.

You make it hard to stay away.

He wants to sleep close to you these days, just to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, and it’s very obvious why that would be. It’s not just sexual need manifesting some feelings he might not have, it’s deeper than that. If he wanted sexual satisfaction he can just do it himself- he doesn’t need someone else for that, nor does he really crave it often. But looking at you, he could see himself indulge in physical activities more often than he did in the past.

But is it all really worth it?

He doesn’t know you well at all yet. He’s not sure if you’re actually as docile and loyal as you appear to be, or if it’s all just an act to gain something from him later on. He can’t yet be sure that you won’t stab him in the back the moment he turns it towards you, so he will have to see and learn a little more about you before he actually makes any kind of move into a friendly direction.

Better safe than sorry, as humans say.

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“interesting!” the man Yoongi introduced as Seokjin beams, smiling kindly at you. “and you’re keeping her as a partner?”

“She’s simply there so you stop nagging about me not taking proper care about my health.” Yoongi denies, looking through the fridge while his cat-like tail sways around with interest. It’s a little odd to you how he doesn’t outright deny the possibility of being his partner- but you also don’t question it, because it’s not your place to do so.

“Hm, that does soothe my worries quite a bit.” Seokjin nods, before he puts a hand onto your shoulder- something Yoongi instantly glances at from an angle, feeling oddly irritated. “Come, let me make you a proper meal. Do you have any preferences ?” He asks, hand on your back as he leads and helps you onto a chair that’s a little too tall to hop onto.

Yoongis tail snaps up a little at the sight. He doesn’t like what he’s seeing, though he’s not sure why.

“I’m okay with anything.” You tell the older alien, who nods.

“Hm, but do you have anything you like the most?” He wonders, making you visibly fall into thought, before you shake your head.

“I haven’t eaten.. many things yet. So I don’t really know.” You say, more quietly, a little hesitant, carefully looking for Yoongi as if you need his approval to make sure what you’re saying is right.

Seokjin looks at you for a moment, before he turns his head to Yoongi.

“Where.. did you meet her?” He asks, and you can sense his nervousness a little, making you slightly uneasy.

“I stumbled upon her on an outpost.” Yoongi responds. “she asked to be taken along to my next stop, and I took her in instead because she’s pretty low-maintenance and doesn’t need money as payment.” He shrugs.

Seokjin looks back at you, before he walks closer again. “can I.. see your back for a second?” He asks, and you nod, not sure what he’s trying to find- and even Yoongi is confused, walking closer to his friend who carefully lifts your shirt to inspect your skin.

It’s when the older one’s fingers trace some faint small scars that Yoongi looks more closely, and recognizes it as numbers most likely burned in near your lower spine.

“Jin..” Yoongi quietly says, snapping his friend out of his trance as he lowers your shirt again, and shakes whatever he’s felt for a moment off, smiling kindly again.

“I’ll make you something warm to eat.” He excuses himself to occupy his thoughts with cooking for now, while Yoongi stands close to you for just a moment longer. You share a glance with him- but his eyes reassure you, tell you not to worry.

So you don’t.

After making sure you’re not upset or uncomfortable, Yoongi offers to help Seokjin out of hearing range from you- careful as he’s not sure how to really speak up on the very obvious question. “Jin.” He sighs, putting a hand on the older one’s for a second to halt his movements. “is it her?” yoongi asks-

But Jin shakes his head, emotions obvious on his face.

“No.” He answers, defeat evident in his voice. “the number.. it matches, but not entirely. It’s fine though. I just.. thought.” He brushes off, before he moves to chop some more vegetables again.

Seokjin’s mate is a touchy subject. For years he’s been searching by now- but there’s no trace anymore, no lead, no hint at where to look for. Without his partner, Seokijin would’ve never been able to go back home. But the price he paid for it still left scars that reopen on occasion, just like today.

“Maybe she knows something?” yoongi worries, but Jin shakes his head.

“Its fine, Yoongi.” He denies any further talk about it. “just.. forget it.”

When you’re back on the ship after a very filling meal, yoongi feels a bit exhausted- but also glad to be back in his personal home again, environment safe to him as he watches you sleep as the ship breaks orbit again. “Yoongi?” You ask from your sleeping bag, and his ears turn towards you- a common sign he’s listening. “why did Seokjin get upset over my Number?” You wonder, and the alien sighs.

“Because his former partner had a similar number on her back.” He explains vaguely. He doesn’t like talking about stuff that doesn’t involve him- but he also wants to make sure you know that it’s nothing to do with you either. “She died on Gaehos, after they both got attacked by a wild.. alien species.” He offers. “or at least, that’s what we all believe. Jin.. still holds hope that his partner somehow survived. Which isn’t likely.”

“what were they doing there in the first place?” You wonder.

“Seokjin used to travel a lot.” Yoongi remembers. “He was an intergalactic research agent, and his partner was assigned to him. He fell in love along the way, I guess..” yoongi shrugs.

“Oh.” You say, accepting this as enough info to be reassured that at least, it wasn’t about you. “I hope he finds his partner one day.” You mumble, before you snuggle up more into your sleeping bag to finally rest-

And Yoongi can only sigh to himself, unable to understand this unreasonable clinging to hope that’s not even there.

A truly human habit, apparently.

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He’s currently busy repairing.. Something. You’re not sure what it is, or what it’s used for- it looks like a small turbine maybe? But to be fair, you’re not meant to understand that thing, or it’s purpose. You’ve rather been put into service to understand him- and that seems to prove more difficult than you have initially assumed.

He’s very obviously a Xaqal- but his behavior is sometimes incredibly unpredictable.

While his kind lives in large groups, and prefers the security of those communities, they’re also quickly irritated and combative to anyone they don’t seem a member of their chosen group. Yoongi however appears to prefer to live in solitude- never complaining about being lonely, or actively reaching out to you for comfort. Sure, sometimes, when the ship hits turbulence, he will actually sleep closer to you- but you assume that that’s actually more so him ‘protecting what’s his’, to make sure you don't get hurt so to speak. Not because he likes you as a person, but simply because you’re a member of his chosen ‘group’.

But other times, very rarely, he does things that completely throw that entire narrative of him being a ‘typical’ member of his kind right out the window. From little gifts he presents you like blankets or your very own water bottle, to the way he never seems to turn down any opportunity to help you with things.

“Yoongi?” You ask him suddenly, making one of his cat-like ears turn towards you, a sign that he’s listening. “Are you feeling okay?” You wonder, and at that he puts the screwdriver down to look at you, face unreadable.

“I feel fine.” He answers, staring you down with suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“Just.. Because you’re acting like you don’t feel well.” You explain. “One of the books I recently started reading states that Xaqal people instinctively start to turn towards solitude when they become unwell.” You state, and he sighs, pushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Yeah well, I’m not like those examples you have in your books.” He denies, turning back towards his task. “I feel fine. I just like being alone.”

“Oh.” You just say, before you nod, and move towards your strange.. setup in the middle of the of the rather small spaceship right across his navigation panel, to move everything out the way and into a more secluded corner. This however seems to irritate him- eyes staring at what you’re doing, fur on his tail slowly standing up to give it a puffy appearance, a reaction he cannot control, body a lot more open about his feelings than he is with his words.

“What’re you doing?” He questions, clearly upset.

“I- You said you like being alone. So I want to give you space?” You explain, and he hates that it makes sense. It makes sense that you should give him space if he likes being alone so much- but he also doesn’t want you to be so far away where he can barely notice you. But he also doesn’t want to confuse you any further, because frankly, he doesn’t really know what he wants and what he prefers now either- so how are you supposed to know?

“I can stay if you like?” You ask, though the hesitation and slight confusion is clear in your tone. He gets ready to wave you off-

But he nods. Because even though he can’t explain it, he wants you to stay within his reach.

“Okay.” You nod, sitting a bit away from him now, before you think- something he picks up on.

“What is it?” He asks, and you look at him with something in your eyes that’s dangerous- most likely because you’re probably unaware you’re even doing this to him.

“Could I.. could I maybe have something to take notes with?” You ask, before you further clarify. “so that I can understand you better.” You say, and he can’t help but stare at you for a moment, dumbfounded.

Yes. Of course you can. Anything you fucking want-

“Sure..” he mumbles out, before he occupies himself again, tail curling around himself protectively as he hides his face behind his hair. “just.. remind me next time we stop.” He says to himself mostly, and you nod, even though he can’t see that.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You say, before you move to pick up your book again-

That sweet tone of yours still echoing in his head long after you stopped talking.

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When he opens his eyes, he’s... home?

He remembers this field. Thousands of flowers, their heart-shaped, red leaves large and covered in drops of morning dew. He knows he’s dreaming right away, because this field no longer exists like this. It’s long been destroyed in order to build more factories- but he remembers his mother and father taking him and all the other ‘siblings’ he had throughout his childhood there. He always enjoyed just laying there amongst the slightly fruity scented flowers, simply staring up at the skies, trying to make out what shapes the clouds might be trying to display this time.

It’s nice that he’s dreaming about this, every now and then. Like a comfort-dream, haunting him softly whenever he feels.. Left alone.

Left behind.

He can hear something, from the left. His head turns, and he spots you- wearing a simple white gown, no shoes or jewelry, even your collar no longer there. You look free, completely unbound to anything as you run around chasing the few fluttering insects that swarm around you, butterflies with long tails, circling around your body like their dancing with you.

You’re really pretty. And in a dream like this, he doesn’t need to look away- he can stare at you however long he likes, taking you in for once.

Once you spot him, you make your way over to where he’s laying down, sitting close to him in the sea of flowers. You don’t say anything, and he likes it that way- words aren’t really needed here in his dream. He just wants to feel your company, even while it’s just his imagination, wants to just be himself without the world expecting the opposite, or worse yet, shaming him for such needs. It’s a gentle moment, nothing but serenety for a while as you sit next to him and take the scenery in around you. It’s obvious that you’re curious, and he wonders why you don’t ask to have things explained.

Your home must be very different. But then again- are you even a human born on planet earth?

It could be. And if you are, he wonders what earth looked like to you when you grew up there. He wonders how long you had until you inevitably became nothing but a wandering body, seeking some sense of purpose no matter what kind. Thinking about it now, he’s glad you’re with him. Who knows what else might’ve become of you if you’d gotten picked up by someone else.

“Yoongi?”

The moment his head snaps up, he realizes that he didn’t just dream- he daydreamed of all things, having gotten lost in the memories of last night’s actual dream while waiting for you to finally emerge from the doctor’s office. “Sorry it took so long- it took longer since you told them to do a full check-up.” You explain, giving the paperwork to him. He takes the papers after looking over them for just a second, before he looks at you.

“Everything good?” He asks, short as ever- and you nod, with a happy smile on your face. That reaction alone convinces him that you’re telling the truth, and aren’t just trying to pacify him by claiming to be alright.

Still- he will take a look at them more in depth later on.

As you both start walking through the neon-lit streets of the relatively new planet, you pass quite a few stores- one of them selling clothes that catch his eye. A comfortable, white sundress and next to it a functional bodysuit clearly made for both comfort and safety during interplanetary travel- and he stops, making you in turn stop as well to check why he’s no longer moving. He points at the faceless mannequins, but doesn’t say anything- yet still, you appear to understand.

“You’re right. That might be good for future travels.” You nod, before your face falls. “Oh- but.. That's too expensive. Could you.. I mean, would it be okay if you gave me 200? I’ll give them back to you-” You start, but he just sighs, and enters the store with you running after him.

“Go see if they have your size.” He instructs you, shamelessly also observing which you one you pick just for future reference.

While he’s waiting, you’re trying on the functional bodysuit- for a moment enjoying the new fabric and comfortable fit, while also letting the feeling of being cared for envelop you. Yoongi is a really nice person, even though he often corrects you on that. You’re not quite sure why, if its just an act of protection or if he genuinely believes in his own claims- but to you, personally, he’s a very kind man.

A bit rough around the edges, but nothing too harsh.

When you emerge from the changing rooms again, it’s with a little happy jump in every step; happy about your newfound favorite item of clothing, which will both make traveling a lot more comfortable, and make you feel a lot better about yourself. It’s a bit of proof that Yoongi seems to think about keeping you around long-term, and you like the idea of a permanent ‘home’ a lot.

Though, when you move to pay for it, Yoongi simply nods you towards him, pointing to a bag he already has in his hand. “I paid for it.” He says, and you can’t help but feel caught off guard by it for a moment, before you reluctantly put the folded clothing into the bag where something white is already waiting. “Are you hungry?” He asks, as you both exit the store, not quite looking at you, but making it still clear that he’s got you in his peripheral vision at any time, just to make sure you won’t get lost.

One more of those subtle hints that he looks after you, in one way or another.

You shake your head in honestly, because you genuinely don’t feel like you need to eat anything at the moment. It’s a rare new feeling you have these days, no longer every going thirsty or hungry to bed. He provides for you, and you in return try and become someone who can provide for him as well- so that he can always find a use in you, and never starts to feel like you’re a nuisance.

You want a permanent home. And yoongi feels like be could be just that.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You lied to him.

He’s reading your paperwork you got from the doctor’s office, ship now having taken off again, giving him a good time to take a proper look at the check-up data he’s received. And while you told him that everything is alright, he’s stumbled upon a few notes in your paperwork that make it clear that it’s actually not. It’s nothing life-threatening, absolutely not- but it is something that he has to be aware of.

Are you scared of him finding out? Scared he’ll just discard you like a cheap slave? And if so- has something happened to you before that would warrant such a fear?

Maybe he’s too intimidating after all. Maybe he needs to be.. Just a little softer with you. But he also doesn’t want to pamper you, or cause you to feel too comfortable around- because you need some fear in you to survive. You won’t survive if you’re ever separated somewhere, and he doesn’t want to lose you.

He invested, after all. Not just money. Yeah, that’s exactly why. No other reason at all.

His dreams still won’t let him go whenever he rests. You invade them constantly, and the scenarios he manifests in his sleep become more and more.. inappropriate, so to speak. He’s not sure if it’s simple natural need or something deeper- but he knows he can’t act on it, can’t just use you like that. He also doesn’t like the thought of visiting any of the adult entertainment houses on any planet he comes across; not because he’s in any way ashamed of himself or his desire, but simply because he sees an act like that as something intimate. He’s had his fill of meaningless get-togethers when he was younger, wild and with the need to prove something to himself.

He doesn’t like the thought any longer. He craves something permanent, something stable.

Could you provide that? Possibly a new exchange? Part of the contract, so to speak. He shakes off the thought of it however, feeling a shudder run down his spine just not from cold or the thought of you ever feeling like you need to appease him no matter the cost just for your own wellbeing- but because of your hand, right on his neck, brushing over it in a gentle way.

He turns around, but you just sheepishly look at him. “there was some dust- sorry, I’ll ask before I touch you next time.” You apologize, while his tail wraps around his waist. Why is he feeling uneasy now?

“Its.. fine.” He mumbles. “as long as it’s just you.” He offers- though when you stay silent, and he looks up because of that, he spots something that’ll stay in his mind for weeks no doubt.

You’re shy. It’s obvious from the shape of your eyes and your slightly parted lips. You nod, silently, before you answer.

“I- Yes. Okay.” You agree. “You can uh- you know. Touch me too. I don’t mind, as long as, like you said.. it’s you.” You admit, looking down at his shoes. It’s quiet for a good moment or two, silent thoughts running through both of your heads, and its obvious you still want to say something else in addition- but you don’t. Because it’s him who speaks first, almost without his control.

It’s like the words fall from his lips before he can stop them- though so strong and thick like syrup that he can’t just keep it in his head.

“Thats good- I don’t like sharing.” He speaks, before he attempts to look busy looking at the navigation panel in front of him.

“yoongi?” You ask, a little timid in your tone. “What.. is there something on your mind?” You ask, but he shakes his head.

“No.” He denies.

“Then.. am I bothering you?” You question, but again, his answer is the same.

“No.” He repeats. “Why are you asking that?” He wonders, looking at you again.

“I’m not sure but.. you just seem distracted lately.” You tell him. “and uh.. whenever you drift off, you look at me, or at least my direction. So I just thought.. it might have something to do with me.” You explain your thoughts, making him sigh.

Of course. To be fair, he wasn’t very subtle about things.

“I don’t know.” He offers you. “I’m going to be fair- I do have you on my mind. I just.. don’t know why, and in what nature.” He tells you, and you sit down on the floor close by- something he shakes his head at, as he instead pats a part of his table in front of him that’s free of any cluttered important equipment. You take the invitation, mostly because you’ve never really been this close to him. Once you sit on the smooth surface, feet no longer touching the floor, your leg easily brushes against his as he leans back in his chair.

“What do you mean, in what nature?” You wonder, and he tilts his head a bit in thought.

“I’m not sure if it’s just hormones or lust, or something more complicated.” He bluntly reveals.

“Oh.”

There’s a good moment of silence yet again, where he watches you chew your lip a bit, deep in thought, before you speak up once more. “I-“ you seem a bit hesitant, though you continue the moment he nods in encouragement. “I want you to know that, whenever I’m, you know, nice to you, I’m not doing it just because you’re technically my boss.” You say. “I’m doing it because.. Well, because it’s you.” You say. "I believe you deserve being nice to.” You offer.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Yoongi sighs, as he crosses his arms almost defensively- though you can spot the slightest twitch in the corners of his lips. “But.. I’ll remember that.” He says, before he adds another sentence that sounds awfully soft compared to his usual tone-

“And I hope you’ll remember that I’ll do the same for you.”

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He feels a lot lighter now knowing you know what's going on with him.

It's obvious that he still doesn't know what he really thinks of you- but he's noticed that it doesn't seem to bother you at all. He's quite relieved to see that your behavior or view on him hasn't changed at all- if anything, you seem to be more at ease than ever before, openly trusting in his abilities to provide whatever you might need. You no longer walk after him like a shadow or slave; instead you walk ahead even, eagerly taking in the scenery of the new planet you've stopped on.

"You wanna have some?" Asks an elderly woman with a scar over her cheeks and eye, while she watches you look at the steaming bowls of food she has prepared at her little spot. "Hm.. get your K'shar here, you look hungry." She says, pointing to your collar- and you're unsure what she means.

So you instantly look for Yoongi, who walks closer.

"Here." He offers an appropriate amount of money, though the woman gives him a confused look.

"You work for him?" She asks you, and you nod- making her chuckle as she shakes her head, but offers two bowls to Yoongi. "I'd doubt you but you smell the same. S' he treating you good?" She wonders, and you don't even need to think before you nod.

"Very." You say.

"Thats what counts. Don't let those rats in the cities put mud in your brain. He's good if he treats you good." She tells you, and you accept it with a thanks, though you're not sure why she said it.

It's only as you walk towards the Inn you'll be staying at, that you speak up about it.

"Why does everyone seem to think I have it bad with you?" You wonder, and Yoongi shrugs.

"Because my kind tends to be the slave, not the master." He simply explains to you, while he scans the entrance with a device in his hand, so the door opens. "Thats just how it is."

"I can't imagine you in my spot." You shake your head, carefully carrying the food as you walk up the stairs to your room- Number 374, as he'd told you when you arrived here.

"Why not?" He asks, opening the door for you to walk through.

"Cause you're.. wild. I'm not sure how else to explain." You say. "You do your own thing." You shrug, setting down the food before you sit on the large bed- the only, you notice.

"I'll take it as a compliment." He says, as he sits down at the tiny desk where you had put down the food earlier. "Now come here. Let's eat." He commands- though it's more offered than demanded.

The moment you sit down across from him, and begin to eat, you both fall into a comfortable silence, that is, until you hear something you haven't really.

He chuckles.

"You don't have to force yourself." He teases almost. "Go to bed. I'll clean up." He offers you, and you nod, grateful, before you simply walk to the bed to throw yourself in it- not moving at all after that, too exhausted from the long trip.

So, just before he cleans up, you can feel a blanket being placed over your body-

Another gesture so kind that you can't help but wonder what could be, only if things were just a little different.

If only he would start to be a bit more.. Unprofessional.

[gojossocks]

New Romantics

Gojo x reader 𐙚 Genre: fluff, comedy, hurt/comfort 𐙚 Summary: You are the bane of Gojo's existence, at least that's what he tells himself. You're just full of surprises and he can't help but be fully enamored by you. 𐙚 wc: 8.5k 𐙚 content: kinda enemies to kinda lovers, a bunch of high schoolers, gojo is soo out of touch with his feelings, it's in his pov, gojo is sooo down bad, PINING, badass reader, reader is in a clan too! reader smokes ! kinda screams im not like other girls in a less toxic way, jealous! gojo, heavy make out, very self-indulgent HAHA can be read as a standalone. 𐙚 a/n: my first ever series ! it's kinda long but i swear it's fun! :D

series masterlist | prologue

Arrogant. Insufferable. Patronizing. Apathetic. 

The list goes on. 

Granted, Gojo is nowhere near close to you. You were barely friends.

If there is one person in Jujutsu High that he likes the least, it would be you. It’s not like he resents you, it’s just that you represent  everything he hated from being in a clan just like him.

From the way you strut your very expensive loafers to the way you shop to your heart’s content after every mission since your first year. Not to mention that you’re the all-perfect princess that your clan wants you to be. 

“Gojo, please pass me the p-“

“No can do, shorty.”  He chirps, giving you a shit-eating grin. 

You glared at him before motioning Shoko to hand you the pen instead. “Gojo, you know you kinda look like someone I like.”  You didn’t let him finish, crossing your arms before giving him a devilish smirk. “That cute little rat from Shrek.” 

Gojo’s eyes widened at your insult but Suguru and Shoko were already snickering at him. He despises the idea that everyone seems to adore you, except him of course.

In the eyes of the higher ups and your family, you were the sweetest girl ever. Somehow, you’re always growing horns around him. 

Everyone thinks that Gojo’s only messing with you whenever the two of you banter. Hell, there are some students gossiping that he has a crush on you (which he definitely doesn’t) But only Geto and Shoko know how much he actually dislikes you.

You seem so obedient with all your clans orders, following everything that’s asked of you, carrying the submissiveness and elegance a Y/L/N is supposed to have. And if there’s anything Gojo hated the most, it’s tradition. It’s why he’s in Jujutsu High in the first place, he wanted to change the system badly— and seeing you become the embodiment of the tradition he badly wants to change pisses him off. 

Each time the higher ups get mad at him for not being in his ‘best behavior’, your name is constantly echoed around the meeting room. ‘You should be more like Y/L/N’ ‘Bring honor to your clan like how Y/L/N does.’ 

The only act of rebellion that you do is that your hair is dyed in a way that would make the higher ups frown. Your hair is recently dyed bright orange. He finds himself scoffing at the idea that you only get scolded because of a damn hair color. Gojo’s also confused with how cunning and sassy you are when there aren’t any prying eyes. Maybe you’re just doing that to seem cool. 

Well, he just has to avoid you at all costs so you would stop annoying him and pestering his thoughts. 

Unfortunately for him, Yaga has different plans. 

“Satoru. Y/N.” Yaga announces when he was pairing up students for a mission but he doesn’t even get to finish because Gojo emits a loud dramatic groan from across the room. 

“Why?” He whined, tilting his head up to create a dramatic effect. “It’s always been Suguru and I.” 

“Satoru, you and Suguru need to be paired up with someone who's an expert in reversed curse technique. It’s your fault you haven’t learned it yet.”  

Gojo crossed his arms and pouted. “Y/N can kiss my ass, teacher.” 

“No thanks. I’m sure you don’t wash yours. I could smell you from afar, stinky.” Everyone else groaned as the two of you started another banter, forcing the meeting to be 5 minutes longer than usual— particularly because no one dares to cut off your argument (Yaga is too amused because of how much you put Gojo in his place.) 

-.-

The mission didn’t go well. It was the first time you and Gojo worked together, and judging by your huge egos, your banter caused the both of you to get injured– you more so than Gojo. He was too reckless today, attempting to get a reaction out of you, which is why he got caught off guard when a 1st grade curse attacked him.

You pushed him out of the way, causing the curse to land a hit on your shoulder and right arm. Gojo stood still in his place in shock and your right arm was already injured when he snapped out of  his trance. He obliterated the curse easily but the damage has been done. 

You’re just lucky it was a minor injury but the fact that you did that for him, considering how you two were at each other’s necks for the longest time confuses him. It disoriented him until the both of you arrived at Jujutsu High. 

When he got patched up, he stood up to apologize but you were nowhere to be found. He assumes you’ve already healed yourself due to your reverse curse technique ability but he can’t help the nagging feeling in his mind. 

You were quiet today— well, ever since this afternoon. And no he’s not keeping track, he’s just not used to not hearing your snarky remarks and sarcastic comebacks at his attempts to annoy the shit out of you.

You’re just ignoring him, giving short insults in response to his own for the most part of your mission until you shielded him from that curse. 

His guilt weighs on him heavily as he strolls around the school, waiting for Shoko and Geto. but really it’s just to see you. Gojo had noticed that you’re always gone the moment after your mission’s debriefing, sometimes even when you’re injured. 

At last, he saw you just a few blocks away from Jujutsu High, towards the new 7/11 store that opened a few months ago. Gojo tilts his head to the side and furrows his eyebrows before deciding to follow you as discreetly as he could.

He stood near a house behind the convenience store where he could be hidden by a large plant beside it. He watched you grab a few things off the shelves and talk with the cashier, who happily greets you at the counter. You must’ve been here frequently. 

1 can of coke. A box of cigarettes. Coffee. 

Gojo never took you as the type who would visit a convenience store, as shocking as that sounds. He knows you’re rich. Filthy rich. You’ve always been pampered just like him, everything down at your feet because you’re the most powerful sorcerer in your clan. 

Finally, you got out of the store. Gojo’s eyes widened like saucers when you went straight to his hiding spot. 

“You know,” You called out, putting a hand on your hip.  “It surprises me how much of an idiot you are despite being a notorious smartass. Your hair sticks out of the leaves because you’re so fucking tall, Gojo.” 

“Heh.” He rubs his nape sheepishly, offering you a shy grin. “Didn’t think you’d see me.”  

“Really?” You deadpan before walking away from him, back to Jujutsu High. He jogs up to your side. “Why are you hiding anyway? Spying on your rival or something?” 

“Maybe.” He says lightly. It’s the first time any of you are talking normally to each other without malice. “Where are you going?” 

“Somewhere.” 

“Can I come?” He insisted, voice filled with excitement, leaving no hint that he’s gonna stop following you.  A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He looks like a puppy, following you around. It’s an amusing sight, even to  you. 

“No.”  You still kept walking, paying no mind as Gojo continued to follow you.

He feels an unusual giddiness at the thought that you hadn’t outright pushed him away because if you really wanted to, you would have told him to leave. 

You lead him to the abandoned fence with the sign ‘DO NOT ENTER’ in the restricted building of the school that had remained under construction for years. It was the tallest building in Jujutsu High. You wordlessly went up to the concealed stairs at the obscured side of the building and onto the rooftop. 

You sat at the edge of the building, your feet dangling off the edge. Gojo cautiously followed your actions, opting to sit next to you. He observes you as you unravel bit by bit and it’s the first time he’s seen you this relaxed and vulnerable—something that you granted him the privilege to see.

Rummaging through your paper bag, you retrieved a can of his favorite drink, Coca-Cola. As you handed it to him, a subtle surprise flashed across his face before he muttered a sincere ‘thanks. 

You then opened your box of Marlboro red and lit up a cigarette, putting it in between your lips before taking a drag. Gojo observes you silently, his mouth agape.  It was a revelation, discovering facets of you that he never anticipated. The act of you casually smoking, the ember casting a faint glow on your features, added another layer to the enigma that you are. 

Gojo stays silent for a few  more minutes or so until you notice his confusion, mainly because his eyebrows are almost meeting and he’s staring intently into the abyss. 

“Are you broken or something? You usually never stop yapping.” You joked, bumping your shoulder to his. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Gojo says dumbfoundedly. 

You chuckled but his question was left unanswered. He forgets about it completely because his brain short circuits when you move closer to him, taking off his sunglasses and perching it atop his head. His radiant baby blue eyes are out staring at you intently.

You give him a soft smile and point at the view in front of you. “I love going here after missions, sunset’s beautiful here.” 

“you’re being nice to me. Why?” 

Again. No answer. You just hummed in amusement and no words were spoken afterwards. 

The sun begins to descend, casting a warm, golden glow over the view from below. The city sprawls out beneath the both of you and the skyline extends into the horizon, bleeding in hues of pink and orange. Both of you sit in silence and when Gojo turns to look at you, he feels his heart beat quickening every passing second.

You look so breathtaking as the remaining sunlight kisses your skin, creating a halo effect around you. He suddenly doesn’t know why his palms feel so sweaty and he can’t manage to land a punchline to make you roll your eyes playfully at him. 

“I’m sorry I got distracted. Thank you for saving me today. I didn’t know you’d be more…” He trails off and you cut him off with a laugh so pretty enough that his head whipped to turn to you. 

“Kind? Human? You think I’m just like my clan huh?” You giggled and it shocked him how light you’re taking the situation.

You must’ve gotten used to it.

Just like him.

You stayed silent for a while before speaking in a serious tone. “Just because I don’t defy my clan’s ideals freely as you do doesn’t mean I’m not against it. When you’re a woman, you have to play nice, you know? I don’t have much of a choice unlike you. I know you don’t like me but I shielded you because you’re my friend.”

It was a wonder for Gojo that he’s the only one you’re not on good terms with out of everyone in Jujutsu High. Hell, he even overheard Yaga asking you to call back those Kyoto Students. It’s a big deal because those pesky Kyoto Students are usually their rivals but for some reason they’re always looking for you.

Then comes the Tokyo students, whom he never sees not greeting you or asking to hang out with you. Come to think of it, their expressions are always brightening up whenever you’re around and he thought that maybe they’re not that welcoming to him because he’s loud. But it’s you. It’s all you. 

From the way you listen intently to your friends, and your saccharine voice asking them about their day or whatever that piques their interest. You care, a lot. You even saved him from that grade 1 curse, resulting in a painful wound on your shoulder. Granted, you had the ability to heal yourself but who was he even in your life? and yet you took the fall for him. 

Gojo always hated that everyone seemed to look at him as that ‘six-eyed kid from the Gojo clan’. He hated the rumors about him just because of your last name— something that he has done to you since the first time you stepped foot into the school. 

He swallows his guilt and sets his pride aside. He wanted nothing more than to make it up to you.  “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve read you wrong. I thought you were just like the rest of them.”  

“It’s alright.” You say nonchalantly as possible but the voice crack at the end gives you away. Gojo chooses to ignore that. This probably means a lot to you as much as it did to him. “I mean I get it, I actually admire your passion for changing the way our clans lead the Jujutsu World. I think you have the guts for standing up to them just like that.”

“You really think so?’ He scoots closer and gives you a small smile, his heartbeat quickening faster as he feels your warmth— your thighs almost touching. 

“Yeah.” You grinned back, leaning your wait to his side before taking a sip from your coffee. 

“So you think I’m pretty?” He looks at you and bats his eyelashes comedically.

You snorted in response and slapped his arm lightly.  “I’ll throw you off this building.” 

Gojo forgot the passage of time in those 4 hours at that rooftop. The sun had already set and the moon was gleaming, already dark out. He likes talking to you but he enjoys it more when you’re the one doing the talking. 

You talked about your school life, hobbies, even your life with your clan– anything that comes to mind. Talking to you is as easy as breathing. You’re just full of wisdom, kindness, and wit.

Gojo found out today that he actually likes making you laugh, something about it makes his stomach feel funny. He also found out your preferences in coffee, food, and even music. 

“Don’t you dare tell that spot to anyone, Gojo.” You took one of the sweets in his hands and popped it in your mouth before giving him a teasing grin.

You’re now walking side by side on the way to the dormitory. He insisted on walking you to your dorm even if his dorm is from the other side of the building. 

A chuckle escaped his lips as he matched your stride. “Yes, Ma’am.”  He replied with a teasing voice, earning a hum of approval from you. You finally stopped in front of your door. 

“Thank you Goj-” 

“Satoru.” He cut you off,  his voice suddenly softening. As you tilted your head inquisitively, he found himself breaking into another warm smile.  His cheeks ached from smiling too much this evening. “You can call me Satoru instead.” 

“I like saying Gojo, especially when I yell your name when I’m mad at you.” 

“Are you mad at me right now?” He wiggles his eyebrows, earning a playful roll of your eyes in response. 

“No.” 

His demeanor shifted then, almost like he’s surrendering his vulnerability to you. “Then call me Satoru.” You could almost hear the plea in his voice. 

You sigh in mock defeat, your lips curved into a smile as you relented to his request. “Okay, Satoru.”

-.-

“You’re barely hanging out with me anymore, Satoru. Have you found my replacement already?” Suguru says, smirking as he watches his best friend’s eyes widened— a blush adorning Satoru's cheeks.

Satoru fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, causing Suguru to smirk at him. This behavior definitely did not go unnoticed by his best friend. Rarely did Satoru ever get nervous and Suguru was all for it. 

“I was just busy, Suguru. You missed me that much? I didn’t know I am participating in a homosexual relationship with you—”  He retorted, attempting to deflect Suguru. 

But Suguru wasn’t one to let him off the hook easily. “Busy hogging Y/N?” 

Satoru scoffed, giving him a look of disbelief. “Pffft. Nah. Of course not. We’re friends!” He insisted, though the way his gaze momentarily flickered away betrayed a hint of something more.  

It has been nearly 6 months since that evening on the rooftop. Satoru and you have been attached to the hip ever since— or to phrase it better, Satoru has been attached to you ever since. Somehow, you’re a lot more similar than he thinks and because of that, you just know each other a lot deeper.

He also finds himself doing things out of pure interest like walking with you to the 7/11 store after mission just to talk to you til dusk on that rooftop, completely forgetting about his friend group’s game nights. Other times, he reaches for your wrist to encourage you to mingle with other people. He even accompanies you to your monthly shopping sprees in the city or in Shinjuku or Shibuya. He found out you love traveling and going to other places— it clears your mind, you had said. His closet is now full of clothes you helped him pick out, almost half of them you bought for him randomly. 

It’s normal for friends to do that, right? 

Seated side by side, Satoru and Suguru observed how you and Shoko practiced your reverse cursed technique. Satoru’s just munching on the sweets you bought for him while his best friend is clearly enjoying the view of how dumbstruck he is by you. 

“Satoru,” he began. “You’re always following her around, it’s like you’re glued to each other already and you even fell asleep together during movie nights more than 3 times already. The only time you’re not with her is when you’re on missions with me or lunch. Are you already secretly dating?” 

“Yeah, we’re not!” Satoru says swiftly and defensively, causing Suguru to raise an eyebrow at him. “Why are you keeping count anyway?” 

 “Sure, just friends.” Suguru insisted, attempting to downplay the whole situation but Satoru is already growing agitated with the way he’s being teased.  Suguru gave him a devilish smirk.  “What if she dates another guy?” 

Satoru shuts up for a minute before muttering a quiet  “… She won’t.” 

“You don’t sound sure. She eventually will.” Suguru gave him an all-knowing smile and that’s when he knew that Suguru was being serious. 

“Huh?”  Satoru furrowed his eyebrows, casting an accusing look at his best friend.  “How are you so sure?” 

“Shoko said she’s going on dates.” 

Oh. 

So that’s why he’s been seeing you less, and you seem so distracted whenever you guys would hang out. Satoru thought that you were just busy but he didn’t think you’d actually go on dates with anyone. I mean, you’re still young right? Besides, who would be deserving of you?

Satoru didn’t notice that he was staring daggers into Shoko as you hugged her tightly. His expression darkened, jealousy flashing in his eyes before softening as he heard you laugh. 

Pretty. 

You look so pretty. 

Since when did he find you incredibly pretty?

Sure, you were just friends but he doesn’t know why he has this urge to be with you all the time, he even wants to hug you like how you hug Shoko and Utahime. It’s just unfair that you only lean to him or give him a fist bump or when you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He longs to hold you close, to see you every morning, and to be the person that makes you laugh all the time.  

And when you noticed him staring you beamed at him and waved. 

Oh, he definitely has a crush on his friend. 

He didn’t know how much time passed but soon enough his day wouldn’t be completed without seeing you. He actually looks forward now to the meeting with different plans, particularly because you were there with him. And he basically lives now in your dorm room, candy wrappers everywhere and an array of his glasses sit beside your bedside table.

You talk about anything, even the random thoughts that come to his mind. You managed to know him better than Suguru knows him, which is surprising by the way. 

But during the past week, he surprisingly didn’t see you— not even at the rooftop that you both had grown to hang out together. Suguru told him that he acts like he has a ‘stick up his ass’ but he was just worried about you. Have you grown tired of him? It all made him fidget like crazy. 

Satoru caught a glimpse of your bright blue hair after your mission with Suguru. It was the kind of blue that matches his eyes. But he didn’t pay attention to it that much because of your sullen look.

He tried looking for you at the convenience store or your dorm but you were already gone so his last bet is at the rooftop, and there you are.

Your back is facing him with your feet dangling off the edge, you seem to be in your own world judging by the loud music he’s hearing. There are two packs of cigarettes by your side and a can of your favorite coffee. The sun is almost setting again and you’re just staring ahead while you hum along to the song you're listening to. The view seems so… sad. He felt something tug at his heart strings. 

“You know you should quit smoking. if you keep it, you’ll never see me old handsome.”  He tried to joke off before climbing the edge to sit next to you. He took off his glasses before wincing at the view, it was too bright so he decided to put it on again. 

You giggled in response,  he can tell that you saw right through him when you had a soft look in your face.  The both of you hadn’t quite reached the stage where you’re entirely comfortable with opening up to one another.

So he tried to lighten up the mood once more, “It actually diminishes your ability as a sorcerer.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says yoda” He responded rhetorically before giving you a lopsided grin.  

You nodded before taking out your lighter to light up your cigarette.   “I only smoke when I’m stressed.” You confessed.

“Oh?” Satoru asks 

“Yeah” You smiled at him, taking a drag from your cigarette, sighing when the nicotine hit your system. 

“Then we’ll do something else, yeah?” He grinned at you mischievously before pointing his index. “Wait.” 

With a quick rummage through his pockets, he brought out a handful of brightly colored lollipops, their wrappers crinkling softly in his hand. 

“What do you have in mind?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. 

Satoru extended his hand, offering you a lollipop with a playful wink. “Something sweeter?” 

He gives you a toothy grin—his eyes sparkling when you take it, shaking your head at his enthusiasm.

“This is ridiculous,” You laughed, amused by his antics as you unwrapped the sweet treat and popped it into your mouth. 

“It works, right?” Satoru asked eagerly. 

He’s been searching for alternative ways for nicotine but he couldn’t find any gum in the 7/11 store. Lollipops are his last choice. 

“I don’t know. Isn’t it gum that lessens the nic addiction?”  You countered, bumping your shoulder against his. 

“Lollipops are an alternative,” He says defensively, though a hint of concern crept up to his face.  “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, uhm. It just gets tiring sometimes, you know?” You responded, bitterness lacing your voice. “ All the pressure. Sometimes I feel like I’m not treated humanely at one point.” 

“Hey. I’ll help you okay?” He placed a hand on your shoulder before offering you a soft smile. “When you’re with me, you don’t have to please those old geezers.” 

“I appreciate it, Satoru.” You smiled back at him and he found himself melting in your gaze. The sun be damned, he could live alone in your presence.

You decided to leave when it’s already half past eight. Once he helped you to his feet you looked at him shyly, and if it’s a bit lighter out he would see a blush creeping up to your face. The walk back to your dorm is silent again, your hands just occasionally brush and Satoru wondered if you think about holding his hand too. 

So when you let him in your dorm like you usually do. Satoru hesitated for a moment before he mustered up the courage and asked, “Is it okay if I hug you?” 

He noticed you freeze and he feared that he might have overstepped, but before he could retract his words, you’re already nodding and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. Satoru hears you sigh in the hug and he feels like he’s floating when you tug him closer.

Satoru prayed silently that you couldn’t hear the loud thumping of his heart because he finally has you in his arms and this is all he wanted. The warmth of your body against his, the way you leaned into his touch, it all felt surreal to him. 

You’ve finally let your guard down around him and he noticed you gradually open up to him when you’re feeling sad or disappointed with something. Somehow he can’t bring himself to be like that to you yet, Satoru has this underlying feeling that you’d like him less if he starts showing vulnerability. 

But to his surprise, he feels like you like him more because of that. There was this instance where he’s so overstimulated after a mission because he had to take off his glasses to work on his six eyes. He started to become dizzy and everything around him was a blur.

As he sat on the couch, feeling utterly overwhelmed and disoriented after the mission. Despite his attempts to mask his discomfort with a feeble smile, you saw right through him, as you always seemed to do.

“Satoru, are you okay?” Your voice cut through the haze of his senses, casting him a worried glance.

He managed a strained smile before the brightness around him intensified, sending a sharp pang through his temples. "I'm...I'm fine," he mumbled.

“Satoru, you’re not a good liar.” You stood up to turn off the lights, only leaving the night lamp on, a soft glow illuminating the entire room, making it bearable for Satoru. He’s rubbing his temples, trying to ease the pain. 

He feels a weight dip in the couch, you gently remove his glasses and place them on the nearby table. Then, without warning, your arms enveloped him in a warm embrace, guiding his head to rest against the crook of your neck, fully covering his eyes.

Now that he’s calmed down, Satoru became acutely aware of the closeness between you. He’s lucky that you can’t see how his eyes widened at your action and how flushed he probably looks right now. Well, not that he can see anything right now. 

But he chooses to ignore the loud beating of his heart again, passing it off as adrenaline rush from the mission. He allows himself to relax in your hold, with your fingers threading softly through his hair, all his worries and fatigue melted away. 

Gojo Satoru had never known romantic love, let alone had a crush on anyone. So maybe it was just normal for friends to hold each other when one is tired or in need of comfort.

He loves to play with your hand when both of you are alone, while he babbles about something random and outright weird just so he could ignore how you make him feel. He tries to ignore the blush creeping up on his face when you listen to him intently, like every word that he utters matters, no matter how ridiculous it was. His feet always drag him to you because after a long day, all he needs is cuddles from you— oh, and your soothing voice too.  

So really, what is this weight on his chest when Shoko announced that you’re going on a date? 

Why is he pouting suddenly, assaulting his food as he stabs it continuously while you are gushing about what to wear or what to say when he knows you just look so beautiful even without trying?

Isn’t he enough?

Satoru buys you stuff, he takes care of you, he knows everything about you. He’s always hanging at your dorm after school, you’re practically like a couple at this poi–

Shit. 

Maybe he does have a crush on you. 

“I don’t know why you’d bother going on a date, Y/N. Guys are basically disgusting.” 

“Says a guy.” You rolled your eyes playfully while going through your closet. 

Satoru’s getting desperate now, why are you so adamant to get on that date? 

Satoru felt a knot of desperation tightening in his chest as he watched you model your top three dresses.  The first dress, adorned with vibrant florals, seemed to scream "first date" with its playful charm. However, you quickly dismissed it as unsuitable for the dinner date you had planned. Next, you slipped into a simple yet elegant black bodycon dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. It was hard to ignore the bitterness he’s feeling— you getting dolled up for a random guy. 

But it was the final dress that truly captured his heart. As you twirled around to show him, the white silk fabric cascading gracefully around you, Satoru found himself momentarily breathless at the sight. Your awkward smile only added to the enchantment of the moment. You look so ethereal. 

"What do you think?" you asked, swaying gently as you admired yourself in the mirror.

"I—" Satoru cleared his throat, his voice suddenly dry as he struggled to find the right words. "I think I like the other one better, the black one," he managed to say, though his heart whispered otherwise.

You somehow listened to his advice and wore the black bodycon dress that he suggested.

You looked nothing short of breathtaking, a literal goddess. 

It was the longest 3 hours of his life, each passing minute feeling like an eternity as he anxiously wait for your return. Despite his best effort to distract himself by distracting Suguru, his thoughts kept returninhg to you— wondering if you’re having the time of your life with your date. 

A small part of him wishes that the date didn’t go well and you’ll just spent the rest of the evening eating sweets with him all the while casting funny remarks on your date but he wasn’t prepared when you came home with mascara running down your face, your lips curved into a pout, and your eyes puffy and red from crying. 

Without a word, Satoru stood up to engulf you in his arms, furrowing his eyebrows as you collapsed into him.  “What happened, Y/N?” 

He held you close, a surge of protectiveness flooding his senses as if an attempt to shield you from the world.

“He’s a misogynist, Satoru!” You cried, your voice cracking. “So full of himself! I thought he was kind and sweet but then he just started babbling about his clan and how good of a potential husband he is. As if I want to marry him!” 

“Who was he anyway?”  He gently wiped away your tears. 

“Naoya Zenin” You sniffled, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry I’m staining your shirt.” 

“No, no.” He whispered, brushing away the strands of your hair on your face. 

He took a mental note to research on the guy that made you cry later on. He realizes that the sight that he despises the most is the sight of you crying. He never wants to see you like this, ever. 

“You said you like the beach right?” Satoru spoke out of the blue, his hand tracing circles on your arm. “Why don’t we go to one?” 

-.-

And that’s how Satoru managed to spend all of his monthly allowance in a week. He booked a flight for the 6 of you (of course he wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea, he insisted it’s a vacation for the six of you— him, you, Suguru, Shoko, and even Utahime and Mei Mei because apparently you’re good friends with them too) 

So now here he is, about 200, 000 yen poorer. (help i don’t know if this is accurate) He wanted what’s best for you, so of course he’d spend a lot for you.  It was all worth it though, when he sees you in a baby blue bathing suit that he helped you pick out. No it was definitely not because it’s similar to the color of his eyes. Blue just suits you well. (Hence, he’s also suitable for you) 

“Satoru, you're going to catch flies if your mouth keeps hanging like that. Hey, are you also drooling?” Suguru pokes Satoru, who quickly straightens up when you look his way.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and he didn’t know what the fuck you’re doing to him because he feels a hard on coming his way.  Shoko notices Satoru’s flushed expression but she just continues to smoke, clearly enjoying the show. 

Eventually, everyone agrees to swim in the beach and try on the jet skis that Satoru had rented. What he didn’t know though, was the fact that you’re afraid of the ocean.

You were just hugging yourself while the waves crashed against your feet. The sight looks so cute but he wants you to enjoy it, so he uses his tactics to get you to join the group.

Unfortunately for him, you’re so stubborn to stay on the shore. 

“I don’t want to go, Satoru! It’s not funny! I might get eaten alive by megalodon sharks or something.” 

“C’mon! I’m really tall, I can protect you! Jesus, here—”  His hand intertwined with yours, causing you to blush profusely. “Just hold my hand, okay?  Hell, hold onto me if you like. I can carry you!”

“Your hands are uhm, really warm.” You commented, your voice tinged with embrassment. 

“Oh yeah?” He smirks at you, his gaze locking with yours. “You want me to warm you up?” 

“I’m gonna kill you.”  You deadpanned. 

Despite your protests, you ended up trusting him to pull you in the deeper part of the ocean. He even managed to get you to ride the jetski with him, the grip you had on his waist nearly suffocating him.

Satoru didn’t want to focus on the closeness between you two— your body pressed up against his back. If he does, he might lose control and drop the both of you into the ocean. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the group is observing the two of you while sipping on their Margaritas.

“God, these two.” Mei Mei muttered as she rolls her eyes. “Best slow burn romance I’ve ever seen for free.”

If anyone would glance at you and Satoru, they would immediately think you’re dating, but you’re not and it’s frustrating to anyone within your radius. 

Besides her, Shoko chimed in, her voice laced with amusement.   “It’s so painfully obvious that they like each other. They were comparing hand sizes earlier for god’s sake.” 

“Yeah, they should just fuck already.” 

-.-

“Okay, so you kiss the person the bottle’s pointing at.” Utahime explained excitedly, albeit a bit drunk.

Everyone’s gathering around the crackling bonfire bonfire, the warm glow casting dancing shadows across the sand.  It was now nearing midnight and you decided to play a game to end the night, which is spin the bottle. You spent all afternoon swimming and riding the jet skis Satoru rented. 

Satoru felt a bead of sweat form on his brow as the bottle nearly lands you and Suguru.

He wanted your first kiss to be with him, as selfish as that sounds. He internally cursed Shoko for suggesting this game. 

It landed on Shoko and Utahime, then Shoko and Suguru, then Mei Mei and Utahime. 

His nervousness escalated as the game continues. Satoru was busy praying that the bottle wouldn’t land on you and anyone that he failed to notice when the bottle finally came to a stop, pointing directly at you and him. 

“Ooooh” Utahime teased you, playfully poking your arm. “It’s you and Gojo!” 

You laughed nervously, shooting a helpless glance in Satoru’s direction. He wanted to protest but his curiosity outweighed his embarrassment. 

He wanted to know how it feels like to kiss you. 

Besides, it’s just a kiss, right? 

Satoru was stunned when you hurriedly pecked him on the lips before you retreated back to your seat. His mind raced as he tries to process the fleeting touch.

He just kissed you. 

He couldn’t believe it when you looked back at him with a subtle smile playing in your lips.  

The rest of the night was a blur for him, not because he was drunk. Satoru’s a lightweight and you know that fact, that’s why you were drinking for him.

While everyone else is playing games and talking about anything, his mind is still stuck on the fact that you kissed him

You’re his first kiss.

And he's yours too,

The gods had answered his prayers.  But that was barely a kiss in the first place, do you even want it or were you just pressured to do it?

The thought stings. So he took a couple of sips from Suguru’s beer bottle until he was tipsy enough to not think about your lips on his. Yet, with each glance in your direction, the memory of your lips on his persisted. 

-.- 

Satoru helped you go to your room, even if he’s a bit drunk himself.  Both of you were stumbling on the way to your room, but he thankfully he managed to settle you down on the bed as gently as he could. His attempt to withdraw was no use as you pulled him down with you, your grip firm yet gentle as you clutched his hand in your sleep. 

Satoru admired your sleeping state, your hair sprawled out messily on the bed and you’re gripping his hand.

Your mouth slightly open as you slept, emitting soft rhythmic breaths but then you started mumbling something—it first it was incoherent until you mumbled in a slur,  “I think you’re cute.” 

“Huh?” Satoru questioned, even though he heard you clearly. He just want to hear it again from you. 

“I said I think you look like a sack of shit. Fuck you.”  You clarified, your words still slightly intelligible and laced with frustration and humor. 

“Uh-huh.” He replied, feigning ignorance, his heart fluttering at your words. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Satoru brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering momentarily against your skin. 

“You know,” You started, your words slurring as you looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my first kiss. It was really good even if it just lasted a second. Thank you for today, toru.” 

He laughed at your intoxicated state. You just look so adorable when you’re relaxed like this, the way your features softened and your laughter bubble up freely without a care in the world.

His gaze drifted to your lips, they seemed to beckon him to give in.  He definitely wants to kiss you now. 

Satoru’s heart raced as he struggled to fight the urge to lean in, knowing that it was a dangerous game to play. You decided to take matters in your own hands, shifting closer to him, your face close enough that he could feel you breathe against him. 

“Please, ‘Toru.” You whispered, your lips barely touching. “Please kiss me again.” 

Who was he to deny you that? To deny you? 

When Satoru kissed you for the second time, he took his time to savor it. His hand reaches out to cup your cheek and brushes his lips against yours. 

Your lips are warm and soft, he wanted to kiss it for eternity. Literally. He feels like in cloud nine as he kisses you deeper, slipping his tongue inside as you parted your lips, earning a soft moan from you.

Satoru weight settled against you, your bodies pressed together, breathing heavily as he connected his lips against yours once more. 

You taste better than any candy he has ever tasted. He might just get addicted, drunk even. 

“We shouldn’t—” He sighs into your mouth. You whimpered when he pulled away, your sweet voice going straight through his dick. “I don’t want to do this like this.” 

“What” a kiss. “Do” followed by another, “You,” then another “Mean?” then another.

You were peppering kisses all over his face all the while carding your hand through his hair, tugging it a bit to earn a reaction from him. He almost lost it when you squeezed him through his boxers. 

Satoru managed to pull away which he clearly struggled on doing when you pout at him, lips swollen and covered with saliva and you’re looking at him with those damned doe eyes. 

He pecks your lips, both of your cheeks, and he places a final kiss on your forehead, afraid that if he does more, he won’t be able to contain himself.

Satoru wants his first time with you to be special, one that’s not hazy and easy to forget. He doesn’t want it to be a mistake, like what he knows the both of you would agree upon if you talked about it in the morning.

He wanted you to remember, have it engraved in your mind and body for weeks. Satoru wants you to want him as much as he wants you, and he can’t have that in a drunken mistake. 

As you both drifted together in your sleep, he held you close, his arms wrapping snugly around your waist. It was the best sleep he had in ages. 

-.-

Satoru’s fear came true when you pretended like nothing happened the next morning. When he awoke, it feels like last night never happened. Your side of the bed is fixed and the only proof that you were ver there was the ache he felt on his arm, where you were laying.  Sure, he was disappointed but he’s contented with anything you give him. As long as he has you by his side. 

The kiss never left his mind, though.

Not even when you reached third year and you drifted apart from him little by little. His feelings for you remains the same. 

When Satoru is paired up again with you for a mission in the second half of your third year, you seem different from the Y/N he remembers. Particularly because you act like the exact person that he met in your first year.

Only, you look dull.

There are heavy circles under your eyes, your lips are chapped, and you look like you’re barely holding it together. Not to mention the only words that you utter to him are only about the mission. 

He got too busy honing his skills with Suguru, but he would make time for you if only you asked. But it’s like you were gone, everytime he tried to look for you, you were nowhere to be found. It’s like he barely knows you anymore.

You started to ignore him at the beginning of the school year. He noticed that you dyed your hair back to its natural color and whenever he goes.

You became a ghost in a way, and he’s left with the pieces of you that you once had shared with him. Satoru desperately wants to reach you but how can he when you’re always away? He doesn’t see you in your meeting spot anymore, you’re not in your dorm, no one gets close to you. The only time he sees you is during meetings with the higher ups and your clan. 

There’s an ache in his heart that only you can heal. 

So before you can run away from him again, he followed your footsteps until you reached the 7/11 store across the street. So here you are scanning along the shelves of the store, even though he knows you already know what you’re going to buy.  You still haven’t noticed him, which is confusing on his part. You must’ve been so tired. 

Ah, an energy drink and a box of cigarettes. 

Well, maybe you’ve started avoiding him too because of that. You know he’s going to get worried. 

Satoru taps your shoulder, making you yelp. You were about to shout at him but your expression softened when you saw him. “Oh, it’s just you.” 

It’s the first time in months where he actually saw you up close. He misses you so much it actually makes him dizzy.  Satoru stares at you for a few minutes before you poked him. 

“Hello? Earth to Satoru?”

He hasn’t heard you say his name too in a while. It felt like a breath of fresh air 

“You dyed your hair back to its natural color.” He pointed out. 

You hummed in response before going to the drink section once more. He observes you skimming the shelves even though he knows what you’re going to buy.

You’re just passing the time because you’re too anxious to talk to him but you aren’t really good at small talks.   

So he does that for you.

As you mechanically scanned the shelves, your eyes not really registering the array of products before you, Satoru noticed the evident anxiety in your every move. Wanting to bridge the gap between you two, he seized the opportunity to make you smile. 

“ah yes, there’s some items on sale here.” He declared, rubbing his chin with his pointer and thumb comically. 

Your quizzical expression met his as you questioned, “I don’t see any.” 

Undeterred, Satoru held up a familiar item – your favorite coffee – and flashed a grin "Here," he insisted, pointing at the non-existent 'sale' label.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "It's on sale. Look. It says, 'buy one take me.'" He gestured to the imaginary tag with a theatrical flair, his infectious grin inviting you to roll your eyes at him. 

Finally, you gave him a smile and you threw your head back because you’re laughing so hard. “You’re ridiculous, Gojo Satoru.” 

Satoru's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your smile, a warmth spreading through him at the sight of your genuine laughter. He likes seeing you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Even if it’s making a fool out of himself.

You grabbed his favorite drink and 2 onigiris then you dropped your energy drink. You walked towards the counter with him following closely behind.

After you’ve paid for the food, you led him wordlessly to the back of the convenience store towards the small parking lot and you sat on the ground. 

“Besides, I can’t take you.”  You broke the silence, handing him his coca-cola with a tremulous smile. 

“What do you mean? You’ve already taken me for granted.”  Satoru attempts to joke, but his playful expression dropped when you gave him a sad smile. 

“I’m getting married next year after graduation.” 

Satoru suddenly felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath him. The news struck him like a blow to the chest, leaving him breathless. He chewed on his lip as he took in your confession.

So that’s why you’ve been busy.

That’s why the higher ups paid no mind to all of his minor mishaps. His heart and mind raced, why so soon? Are you really going to let them take away your right to decide who you’ll marry? 

“To who?”  He said quietly, fidgeting with the lid of his soda. 

“Naoya Zenin.” 

A wave of disbelief washed over Satoru’s face. He had only met the guy once but he knows that Zenin is an absolute prick, not to mention a misogynist and a weakling. He even made you cry on a date. But he tried to relax his jaw and stay composed for you. “Do you want to marry him?”

“No.” Your answer was swift, the word laden with a weight he could feel in his bones. 

“Then don’t.” Satoru says firmly. Both of you fell silent for a while, you being defeated with the destiny your clan have paved for you.  

Could he really let you go just like that? To a Zenin asshat nonetheless?

He had always imagined that the two of you would eventually end up together, you have all the time in the world after all. So why does it feel like you’re already slipping out of his arms?  He’s not even sure if you like him, despite what Suguru and Ieri keep telling him. 

His train of thoughts were interrupted when you leaned your head on his shoulder. His arm instinctively finds its way around you, as if shielding you from your clan, from the world.  “I wish it were that simple. Nearly everything I do for my family is never what I want. I simply can’t not do it, Satoru. I need it to keep my clan powerful and relevant. I’m the only daughter of my parents. I have to do my best to make them proud.” 

“Well…” He stammers a little bit when your hand finds a way to play with his hair.  “what about what you want?” 

“Satoru, you know my freedom is limited." You laughed bitterly. “I’m still Y/L/N’s golden child and my clan’s on the brink of exclusion at this point. We’re irrelevant now and I’m not getting any stronger or richer. My family wants to take their place in the Jujutsu World. This is something I can’t escape from anymore even if I’d rather die than to be married to someone like him.” 

“Why Naoya Zenin though?” He’s getting frustrated at this point. Why were you not fighting back? Satoru couldn’t accept that, you relinquishing your freedom for the sake of others. You have already done so much. 

“He’s from a well-off clan and he’s strong.” you replied, a note of bitterness tainting your words. “My dad’s also biased with the Zenin clan so… I’m all set.” 

Well, he’s a Gojo and he is the strongest.  He is the inheritor of the six eyes anyway. Who is Naoya Zenin compared to him?  

“Well then, can you marry someone else that’s also strong?”

You scoffed, your hand leaving his hair before you prompt to fully lean your entire weight on Satoru’s side. “Yeah, but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Who else would I mar-” 

It’s now or never. 

“Me.”  Satoru blurted out. 

“What?” 

“Me. you should just marry me instead.” 

Wanna read more?

[cupids-chamber]

— " 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 " | Listen to this on loop for full experience.... ★. Content tags/warnings , 1.1k+ words, gender neutral reader, technically everyone x reader (including staff/not so much RSA), can be seen as both platonic and romantic, angst, mentions of food/eating less (reader no longer has an appetite), reader is tired, reader is having a really bad day, reminder: I haven't written in awhile.

Today was a difficult day, many days have challenged you in so many different ways, yet a keen feeling of gloominess had washed over you this particular morning. Your alarm rang blankly into the silent room, you let out a groan of displeasure as you sat up on your bed, staring blankly at the wall feeling a churn in your gut. The curtains were closed, a small ray of light shone through the empty space between your window and the fabric of the curtain; you took a moment to sit and stretch. 

Mentally you cursed yourself, reaching a hand to shut off your phone alarm. Perhaps it was a bad idea staying up late after all, yet how could you resist the urge to finish that new Twisted Wonderland fanfic you found on AO3 recently; The reader resonated deeply with you, and the author's writing was just what you needed. Your eyes stung, you felt like banging your head into your headboard just to stop it from ringing and aching, not to mention you could practically feel the weight of your eyebags.—had you known your body would behave in such a way, you'd have slept at least a bit earlier—Well that's what you're saying now at least, you knew you'd probably repeat the same mistake tonight if another storyline enraptured you just as much as the previous did. 

You began standing up, your whole body woozy from the lack of sleep, you found yourself stumbling over something you left on the floor. You recall how tired you were, too done with the day to be bothered to pick it back up. You walked right past it, 'today was going to end badly' you thought to yourself, since your morning had been a dead giveaway. 

You pocketed some random snack, as breakfast; Running a bit later as per usual. You'd lie to yourself, saying that you'd get up a bit earlier tomorrow but you knew for a fact that unless a miracle happened, you wouldn't. 

The rest of the day was but the same routine, you felt tired all throughout your morning classes, on edge. You would've fallen asleep but you tried to keep your eyes open, as your professor was going over some important project intel that you really didn't want to miss—though you were only half understanding what they were saying—their words felt like gibberish for your only half-functioning brain.

Lunch felt like a chore, despite it usually feeling like a break. You felt like something bad was definitely going to happen, which made you feel anxious; The churn in your gut made it difficult to eat, chew, or drink. Your lunches weren't all that gigantic, as you disliked the feeling of being bloated, yet you barely could find it in yourself to eat. You took a deep breath, you logged into tumblr, perhaps one of your favorite fanfic writers uploaded something new? Anything to distract this heavy mind of yours. 

You checked @kalims page first, they hadn't uploaded in a while—It's been a couple days since they've posted; you figured they'd be busy with school… You pondered on the following page for a while, checking @spadecentral‘s blog, they were far more active then most other blogs you’ve been following and their soft and sweet writings was perhaps just what you needed in this tim—They haven’t uploaded in a while as well? You looked at your screen, maybe everyone was just busy with their finals and/or finishing up midterms at this time. 

You hummed, scrolling frantically through your follows, you sighed softly, maybe today wasn't the day to read fluff, you started checking yandere blogs; ‘nothing like obsessive men to calm you down’ you thought as you clicked on @writingforatwistedworld‘s blog, you scrolled down.. 

‘Weird, nothing new..’, it was as if the whole world had conspired against you today, you took a sigh, perhaps @honey-milk-depresso had uploaded something new on her art blog, after all their wholesome tsundere ship art was just the perfect source of serotonin—And if you were just a bit lucky, perhaps she’s uploaded writing onto her main blog an—Oh.. She hasn’t uploaded either?..  

Your brows furrowed letting out a tired sigh, maybe you should just listen to some music. ‘How bad could this day possibly go?’—you consoled yourself with those words, as you tried finishing up at least a small portion of your meal. 

You forced yourself to clean up and change, crashing onto your bed afterwards. It always felt softer on these sorts of days. Like a welcoming warm embrace, that you didn't want to leave. You took a few moments to vent your stress onto one of your poor pillows, before getting nice and cozy with your warm blankets. 

You laid down on your bed, burying yourself in the blankets, as you grabbed your device from near you, turning the brightness to the lowest possible setting, perhaps you should finish your general tasks on Twst before you take a nap.. 

10 minutes passed and you let out a groan, where did the app go? You never heard of an app disappearing randomly; perhaps you miss-clicked and hid it by accident? A few minutes passed, and you still couldn't find the Twisted Wonderland app, you desperately opened up your computer.. Typing in panic, and yet the official website was gone as well—perhaps it’s just going through some weird update?—Maybe this was only happening to certain servers. You logged into tumblr once again, checking your mutuals profiles and.. some of them were gone? Most of the blogs had nothing from Twisted Wonderland left, the tumblr tags for Twst were completely empty. 

Two hours had only passed and your panic grew, it was odd. You scrolled through your mutual’s blogs for minutes on end hoping to find one post about the game which put a smile on your face on the daily... Yet none... You went on AO3 and even checked other websites which you'd only go to out of sheer desperation for content... Yet nothing...  

You took deep breaths, your breathing pacing as you scrolled till your fingers began to sting from pressure and stress.. Your back arched, as you stared at the screen with an intense expression, desperately tapping away…  finally you entered the app store hoping this was a weird dream or update, like those movies and manga’s and yet.. the app was gone. No mention of it.

You couldn’t even trace a single picture of the game down, not even on Pinterest where everything deleted was still sometimes somehow available. 

'Were you crying? You couldn't quite tell, you felt tired, perhaps this fictional world was just something you created as an escape, yet you didn't think you'd get this attached to some characters on a screen, and now that's it's all gone you feel... kind of.. empty.' 

‘Maybe it was all just a fragment of your imagination…’

| Masterlist | Kofi | Join Taglist

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Waiting for the Ocean

(A/N): I just needed that. Maybe you do too. Enjoy.

Summary: Something wrong is with his girlfriend. Max is fearing for their relationship.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warnings: GRIEF, angst, so so much angst, emotional pain, some swears.

Wordcount: 1.7k

🏎Masterlist🏎

______________________ Max fears for his relationship. It’s as simple as that.

Lea has been distant recently.

Not really engaging when Max talks to her, telling her things from media duties or bits and pieces from the debriefs and team meetings. Which is weird, to Max at least, because Lea is a queen for gossip. That’s their way of bonding.

But currently, Lea only nods, her eyes having a far away look in them, signaling to the dutch man that his girlfriend mentally checked out.

He also feels shut out from Lea’s thoughts. When just a couple of weeks ago she told him close to anything that went through the pretty head of hers, from unhinged ideas to deeply philosophical questions, now there is not even a single opinion voiced. They sit together in the living room like strangers in a café, merely sharing the same space, but not the same feelings anymore.

Lea started to keep more to herself, locking in her hobby room, or woman cave as she called it when they moved into the apartment. Max has to admit, while not particularly proud, that he already tried listening to what is happening on the other side of the cold door. But he never hears more than shuffling when pressing his ear on the firm wood.

As a man who for 24 out of 52 a year drives a car made of durable cardboard at a literal neck breaking speed, Max feels utterly and completely helpless. This sudden shift in his girlfriend's behavior, leaves him with a feeling of a big heavy stone in his stomach. There is no escaping this reality, no matter how much he wishes for it. Right now, his relationship with the love of his life is crashing against a wall much faster than he ever drove. And Max feels like a bystander, watching the car crash in slow motion and sped up at the same time.

This sinking feeling, when you suddenly realize that there is a fatal problem, it’s killing Max. It closes up your throat, making you afraid to eat, drink, fuck, even talk. The longer it settles into your stomach, the less anything makes sense. Reality becomes a warped precious piece, your whole world view is tilted on its axes. Is anything you ever believed in before this feeling creeped up, even true? Who is to be trusted when you can’t even trust your own feelings right now?

In the last couple of days, Max knows one thing to be definitely, unshakably, true: Lea is not cheating on him. He can’t explain how he knows it for sure. But if he starts accusing his beloved of being in an act that ultimately kills a relationship, he can break up with her right way anyway. Accusing Lea of cheating on him, turning her back on their relationship, is the equivalent of accusing her of killing his mother. Because in a way, she would kill his feelings. Towards anything.

He tries to think rationally.

If it is not cheating, what is causing this riff between them then? What else makes a person who shares one hundred percent of themselves, say next to nothing? What whimsical feeling, moment, must have happened to change a person this drastically?

Max thinks about when it all started a couple weeks ago. They haven’t been out at that time. It can’t be any outside trauma. Or can it?

Maybe it’s something on her phone? Maybe people started some online hate campaign?

Max does what he despises the most. but for the sake of his relationship, he takes this upon himself: Reading through instagram and twitter comments.

What the Dutch man sees is nothing amusing to him, but it is unfortunately only the “usual” amount of hate and insults Lea has to see herself confronted with as the girlfriend of Max Verstappen. Something you usually become desensitized to with time. Still, he sends a few of those to his team of lawyers, desperately wanting this scum of people to find themselves dealing with the consequences of her actions.

Maybe, the hate is part of the reason Lea is so distant? Is the hate and limelight finally getting to her? Max wouldn’t even be able to feel mad towards Lea if that was the case. He knows the bad feelings many humans harbor towards him for most of his life, since none of them really hold back on their opinions.

Fed up about the silence and this bad, acidic feeling in his stomach that is giving him a heart burn, bile rising up to his throat, Max knocks on the hobby room door. “Schatje? We need to talk.”

Silence.

For several minutes.

Maybe his girlfriend is listening to music and can’t hear him through her headphones? Max produces his phone from his pocket with his left hand, the right one clutching a bouquet of flowers -sunflowers- for her. Either as an apology for if he actually has done something gravely wrong, or as a little pick me up. Even though they are a bit of an odd choice, Max never questioned her preferences.

He looks at their shared spotify. Lea actually listens to music, in German he recognizes. It is called “Waiting for the Ocean”. An odd title. Max shrugs and calls her instead.

“M-max?” The woman’s voice is small. Broken.

The sinking feeling, the big stone in his stomach? Yeah, that one. It turned into a fucking mountain when he heard Lea calling for him through the phone. If he can, he would climb through it and hold her, protect her from all the evil in the world until it ends and burns to the ground. And beyond that, into eternity. If Lea lets him.

“Schatje? Can you please open the door? I think it is time to talk.”

One beat.

Two beats.

Three, four.

Shuffling.

Max feels a wave of relief, the mountain in his stomach transforming back to a big stone when he hears the lock clicking.

Lea stands there. eyes red, face hollow, shivering like a leaf in the wind. “Oh baby” Max coos, enveloping her in a hug so tight, he is afraid to break one of the young woman’s bones. The bouquet of sunflowers is thrown to the ground. There are more important matters on hand.

But it seems like that crushing hug is the twig needed to break the whole dam. The floodgates of tears open immediately, making Lea sob and cry into her boyfriend's arms. Knowing that if one person for sure catches and holds her when she is falling, it is her Maxie. The guy who once searched up every shop in Monaco that was still open in the middle of the night, only to find one specific sweet craving of hers.

The man, who keeps a little metal box with her supplements with him, because he knows she forgets them at home whenever they travel.

Her boy, the one who is shield and sword to her. He will always catch her.

“I-I miss her”, Lea hiccups between sobs. The pit in Max’s stomach is finally lifted, knowing he is not the root of this situation. But it is instantly replaced by an ache in his heart, going in so deeply, it could be a medical concern. Because the pain in her voice, it’s unlike he has ever heard from her.

It is so raw, so fresh, Max himself has to draw in a shaky breath. He gulps, drawing patterns and letters on her back with his fingers. “Who are you missing, Schatje?” The Dutch man asks the question to which answer he is afraid of hearing. The pain in her voice and tears streaming down her face in rivers are enough to deduce that the missing person in question is not easy to be reached.

It takes Lea a couple of minutes to calm down enough to even try to answer. Her sobs are just so body wracking, breathing doesn’t come easy to her. “My grandma”, Lea hiccups, clinging to Max. “It has been nine years. And it still feels like we got the message yesterday.”

The pit in Max’s stomach is back. He knows about the death of her grandma. He hasn’t been told any actual details, but just that it was tragic, untimely and right before Christmas started.

He pulls Lea closer to himself. Hoping to bring her the comfort she needs right now. The tears are back in Lea’s eyes.

“You know what hurts the most?” She sobs. “She died alone. In a hospital bed. Surrounded by loud machines, a sterile smell in a cold room. No one was there for her” Lea takes a couple deep breaths to continue talking the words off her chest, the one that feels so heavy, an elephant could sit on it and it would have been a lighter weight.

Max stays quiet, stroking her head and holding her tightly. He knows that it is not the time to say anything yet.

“She was all alone. Just one night nurse for who knows how many patients. A woman with three kids and six grandchildren. Dying alone. In the middle of the night. In pain. Max- she didn’t deserve any of this.” Lea dissolves in tears again.

Max just holds her. He can’t do anything else. No matter what he will say, the pain will stay.

Grief doesn’t work like that. There is no magical formula of words strong together that will make her feel better. Not right away. There is no good short term relief from grief. Because come to think of it, grief marks the love to one person that you just can’t give to them anymore. This is why it hurts.

And for love to end, there is no instant remedy. Just like for grief.

It comes and goes in ways. You can only stand on the shore and wait for the ocean to come, ready to swim in the waves of memories, pain, despair and a love that can’t be received anymore.

[tsuutarr]

A were-wolf hottie and no pic, give me the fluffy hooligan please 😫

Extra points if it's enemies to lovers trope, except no vampire verses wolf, more like were cat or coyote vs wolf?. Scooby-Doo zombie mayhem got me

(So I ended up doing a bit of a rivals to lovers kind of thing rather than enemies! I didn't have too much info to go off of, so if this fic isn't to your liking, feel free to send me another ask with more details!)

Pairing: Vilkas Lunewood (werewolf OC) x werecat! reader

Contents: one-sided rivalry (somewhat one-sided romantic pining) where Vilkas thinks of you as his greatest rival to beat on exams.

Word count: 1180

Even though Vilkas would rather read his favorite book in a cozy nook, he’s known as a brute – someone who can weaponize his fists to subdue all that cross him. His sharp eyes and broad figure do little to deter his reputation as a brutish hooligan. However, despite his reputation, Vilkas has never started any fights – it’s just that he’s always finished them, being the last one standing.

It’s hardly his fault that he’s so strong, though, especially since strength is the least of his concerns. No, his much bigger concern is defeating you, his stupidly pretty werecat rival, academically.

“Hm… I could’ve done that a bit better…” you murmur from beside him. You’re both staring at the recent exam scores posted on the bulletin board.

He smells you before he hears you. Vilkas has always noticed your scent, something warm and soft – something he associates with afternoon naps basking in the gentle rays of the sun. Not that it matters, really, not when you’re constantly kicking him to the curb in terms of your grades. He’s been number one for as long as he can remember, but then you come along and place him in the number two spot consecutively. And you look cute while you do it. Frustrating!

“Ah, Lunewood, your score’s gone up, hm? That’s good to see.”

Vilkas scowls at how easily you address him, gloating about your victory. You’ve never been scared of him, always talking to him whenever you can. It’s stupid. You’re stupid. You and your stupidly lovely ears and stupidly adorable tail and that sweet voice and–

“Lunewood?”

“What?” he growls, his eyebrows furrowed at the center.

“Ah, you look rather upset, is all.”

“I am not.” Of course Vilkas isn’t upset – he’s good at taking a loss! And even if he is upset (which he isn’t), it’s not like he’s bothering anyone! The clear distance most people are keeping from him is definitely, definitely not because they think he’s scary for scowling – that’d be ridiculous!

“If you say so.”

Vilkas’ scowl deepens.

“Ah. It was quite nice chatting with you. I’ve got to head off now.”

Vilkas’ nose scrunches. You’re probably gonna stick your nose into a stupid little book (something he’d do too). You’re gonna brew yourself your favorite beverage as you curl up to read something you like and you’re gonna look so cute doing it and it’s so annoying to Vilkas to think about.

Stupid, stupid werecat.

.

.

.

The next time Vilkas encounters you, it’s because he smells your warm scent mingled with a scent he’d only describe as sour. His frown deepens as he follows the smell, before coming across you getting harassed by some no-good werewolf.

Ugh. Seriously. Like yeah, you’re cute and charming and whatever, but couldn’t that stupid werewolf pick another cat to pick on? Like why’s that dumb werewolf wasting time flirting with you? And why haven’t you just beat that stupid, no-good werewolf off with a stick? You’ve got the claws to scratch him up. Ugh. Whatever. It’s not his business–

“Leave the cat alone,” he spits, despite his inner monologue. He’s not helping you because he thinks you need his help or because he’s worried or whatever. He just doesn’t have anything better to do. That’s what he tells himself as he sizes up the werewolf that’s been hitting on you.

“Yeah? What’re ya gonna do about it if I don’t?” the no-good werewolf hisses, standing taller to appear bigger. The no-good werewolf is bigger than you, a werecat, but can’t compare to the sheer muscle mass Vilkas boasts.

“I’m not gonna do anythin’ about it,” Vilkas growls. “‘Cause you’re not gonna give me a reason to do anythin’ about it.”

The no-good werewolf falters briefly at the deadly gleam in Vilkas’s eyes, but decides to stupidly stand his ground. “You want me to give you a reason to scram?”

“You think you got what it takes?” Vilkas shoots back, his teeth bared. His tail bristles, ears flattened against his head.

“Lunewood,” your voice calls, which irritatingly makes Vilkas feel calmer. “Let’s just go.”

Vilkas isn’t sure what to do – he’s not really one to back down from a fight, but your voice and smell just make Vilkas feel… softer, like he’s wrapped in a you-shaped blanket.

“Wait–” the no-good werewolf’s face pales. “Lunewood? Vilkas Lunewood?”

Vilkas stands taller. “What about it?”

“No–nothing!” a squeak leaves the werewolf’s mouth as his tail tucks between his legs, before he runs away.

“...I should’ve punched him once,” Vilkas grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Hm, maybe you should’ve,” you agree lightly. “The more I think about it, the more I dislike him.” You spin on your heel, turning to Vilkas with a smile. “Thanks, by the way. I appreciate it.”

Hmph, a good ploy on your part – trying to make him lower his guard by thanking him? If you think that your thanks makes Vilkas’ tail wag, you’re so very correct – Vilkas tries his best to temper his tail’s excitement, but he just gives up because he can’t. “It’s nothing. I didn’t do it for you.”

Your cute little cat ears and tail twitch. “Oh.”

Vilkas immediately feels bad.

“I guess it was one of those territory things, then? Did you want to mark your territory?”

Vilkas huffs out something akin to a laugh. The only thing here that he’d want to mark is you – wait, scratch that.

“Well, anyway. Can I take you to a café or something to thank you?”

What? Why would you want to feed him? It’s not like he did anything great. Is this a trick? Are you trying to poison him?!

“Or do you not like sweets?” you look contemplative. “Maybe barbeque…? But my campus job doesn’t pay that much…”

“A café is fine,” he grunts, tail swishing behind him. “You can buy me a barbecue when I beat you on our next exams.”

You tilt your head to the side, confused. “But you’ve never been able to beat me before?”

Vilkas’ eyes narrow as you hum in thought.

“Oh! Is this like a bet?” your eyes glint mischievously, a cheeky smile curling on your lips. Cute. “How about it, Lunewood? If you beat me in the next exam, I’ll treat you to a barbeque. If I win… Well, I’ll keep that a secret for now.”

“What?” Vilkas asks, frown set deep in his mouth.

“Hm? Are you scared?” you tease, your voice taking on a lilt that makes Vilkas want to chase you down and mark you.

“Don’t bet on it, kitty-cat,” he responds. “I ain’t scared of anything.”

“Then is the bet on?”

Vilkas doesn’t hesitate when he answers with, “You bet.”

.

.

.

(You two do head to the café, much to Vilkas’ pleasure [since he wants a sweet treat, that’s it. It’s not because he’s hanging out with you or anything]. You’re surprisingly interesting to talk to, which he should’ve maybe expected since you’re his rival. You’ve got pretty good tastes when it comes to books and a good eye for cute cafés too.)

[seventeenytiny]

♡ Sexual Themes I Feel Stray Kids Get Associated With ♡

Authors Note: So I’ve read enough smut from other blogs all over Tumblr that I feel like I started to see certain themes with each member reoccurring on Tumblr. Maybe it’s just certain blogs that keep pumping out the same type of content and I just haven’t noticed it’s the same blog. Anyways, I still thought this would be a fun thing to do, let me know if you agree or disagree with me. I’d love to know what kinks other people on Tumblr associate with certain members. One last thing, kinda hate how I set this up but can’t really change it now. Sorry if some of the sections aren’t as detailed as others, not all these kinks are things I’m generally comfortable with writing. Not uncomfortable with them, but just not necessarily stuff I’m into lol.

Contains: Sexual Themes/Smut, Minors DNI, Each section has a kink in front of it, if you're not comfortable reading that kink just skip over that section :)

Smut Below the Cut

Bang Chan - Breeding Kink 

I’ve learned Tumblr in general is OBSESSED with breeding kinks but I’m pretty sure Chan has this topic come up in his stories the most. I think him giving off the biggest dad vibes of the group makes us associate him with this kink. Alright so just imagine him coming home to fuck you after a long day of work. He loves to take you from behind so he can watch his cock go in and out of you as your body reacts with each thrust. “Please babe just let me cum in you just this once,” he wines out. You were too fucked out for rational thoughts, “I need your cum, Chris, please fill me.” He grips your hips hard, thrusts growing sloppy after hearing your words, his high rapidly approaching. With a grunt, he releases into you, his warm cum coating your walls. After calming down from his orgasm, he pulls out slowly, trying to prevent any cum from spilling out. He uses his finger to push anything that threatens to spill out back in, he can’t let a single drop go to waste.

Lee Know - BDSM/Hard Dom 

Minho is rough in bed, or at least that’s what everyone thinks. After a particularly rough day at work, he comes home just to release his pent-up frustration on you. He stands in front of you, his eyes staring intensely into yours, silently asking for permission. Next thing you know he’s pulling you off the couch and dragging you to the bedroom, roughly pushing you to the bed. He wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing it gently to let you know he’s in charge tonight. If you even tried to be a brat for a second he would flip you over onto his lap and deliver a hard blow to your ass. He would rub it for a second, to help lessen the initial sting, before smacking it again and again until you apologize. He’d love having you a sobbing mess while you beg for his cock and forgiveness. He could never turn down his baby when you look and sound like that.

Changbin - Size Kink/Bulge Kink

Honestly never really thought about a size kink being a thing until I started reading it on Tumblr recently, but yeah Changbin definitely has it. While he knows he might not be the tallest, his muscles and cock make up for it. He’d have you laying on the bed, his tip teasing your entrance, “I know your pussy can fit my huge cock,” he’d say in a low voice. You push your hips forward in response, desperate to feel him stretch your tight pussy. He starts slow, just wetting his tip, the stretch from that alone has you crying out. “Fuck Changbin your so big.” He hovers over you as he pushes himself in deeper, you watch as his biceps flex by your face. Little moans leave your mouth as you welcome the pain and pleasure of having him stretch you. “Almost there baby, just a little bit more. I know you can take it.” Once fully inside, he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off that little budge he sees in your tummy with each thrust.

Hyunjin - Public Sex 

I love the idea of public sex, but Hyunjin and public sex? Chef’s kisses. Hyunjin will gladly fuck his partner whenever and wherever he wants. Some of the places he’s fucked you include a changing room, the hiking trail, the back of a train, oh and don’t forget the time the two of you got stuck in an elevator. You often find yourself wearing skirts and dresses, not because it’s necessarily your style, but because it makes this fun you two have so much easier. This time it was in the movie theater, he purchased the two of you those fancy vip seats your theater has, seats big enough to allow you to sit comfortably on his lap during the movie. You brought a blanket with you to the theater as well, most people would assume you did this because of how cold the theater always was but that's not why you have it. You sat on Hyunjin’s lap, settling the blanket on top before doing anything else. Slowly, he undoes his pants and pulls out his cock, he gave it a couple tugs before he lifts you up onto it. You did your best to not make any noise as you sink down onto him. The theater was for the most part empty, but there were still a couple people near the front of the theater. He slowly but sloppily thrusts into you, careful to not make any noise.

Han - Somnophlia/Freeuse 

Tumblr really thinks Jisung is just a super horny perv. Like when this boy wants you, he will have you no matter what. Don’t worry though, you guys have a system to let him know when you’re willing to have sex. You put on that one shirt that gives him the signal he needs before starting to doze off on the couch. Jisung comes home after a long day of practice and all he wants to do is sink his cock into your pussy and forget all about his worries. He looks at you on the couch, you're sleeping in nothing but your shirt and panties, bare legs exposed. He pulls his cock out before hovering over your sleeping form. He slides his cock between your thighs, slowly rutting his hips. Gentle moans slip past his lips, he keeps up a steady pace as he indulges in pleasure. His moans turn to high-pitched whines the closer he gets to his high, the sounds from his mouth cause you to start to stir. You wake up to see Jisung over your body, sweat on his brow and his lip red from biting it. His thrusts pick up as his orgasm takes over, warm sticky cum covering your thighs.

Felix - Cock Warming/Premature Cumming 

I probably read the most Felix smut, I couldn’t just pick one theme for him. With cockwarming, it’s always while he’s busy gaming. He’s deprived you of attention for too long, even after all your attempts to pull him away from the screen he just won’t budge. You couldn’t handle waiting any longer so you decided to help yourself. “Felix, keep playing your game, just trust me,” He nods in response, his eyes still glued to the screen. You reach out to rub his member through his pants, you can feel him grow hard rapidly. You try to tug with sweats down, he lifts his hips up to aid you in taking his pants off, getting desperate to feel more. You remove your sweatpants and panties before straddling his lap, careful to not block his view of the game. You sink down onto him, you can feel him tense up for a second before continuing his game. You sit on his cock happily for the next few minutes while he finishes several more rounds in his game, satisfied you can finally feel full. Felix eventually starts to grow desperate for more, quickly losing interest in his game. His hands move from his keyboard to your hips before he thrusts up into you. He takes in all the precious sounds that leave your mouth, enjoying everything just a little too much.  Unfortunately, he reaches his high a bit sooner than he’d like, your pussy just feels too damn good. Don’t worry though, he would never leave you unsatisfied.

Seungmin - Perv!Seungmin 

I feel like I’ve seen this theme with him quite a bit, I’ve seen it with Han as well but possibly just a smidge more with Seungmin. Tumblr Stays seem to like to make this man absolutely obsessed with you. Some things he does include following you around, gifting you teddy bears with hidden cameras, and stealing your panties. He’s not always a full perv though, he’s also your best friend that you’d trust with your life. What Seungmin doesn’t know is that you know exactly every little pervy thing he does, you only act like you don’t know what he’s doing. Knowing this, you sometimes like to tease him. Some things you do include changing while he’s around, asking for his opinion on which set of lingerie you should buy, and slowly grinding against him while you sit in his lap. Imagine sitting on his lap as you two watch a show together, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buries his face into your hair. He’d be doing his best to hold in his moans while you shift on his lap, trying not to give away how much he’s enjoying everything. There was honestly no point in him holding in his moans, it’s not like you couldn’t feel his rock-hard cock against your ass. After a bit too much teasing, he eventually cums into his pants, a whisper-like moan slips past his lips with his orgasm. You pretend you didn’t know what just happened as he suddenly pushes you off his lap, excusing himself to the restroom.

I.N - Loud Sex/Exhibitionism

Being the baby member, Jeongin feels like he’s got something to prove to everyone, he wants to show off how much of a man he has become. One of the ways he does that is by making you scream and moan so loud during sex that all of the members nearby can hear it. One night, you were invited for a movie night while a couple of the other boys were at the dorm. After the boys ruthlessly teased Jeongin for having a partner, he decided he had enough. He picks you up off the couch and carries you to his room, slamming the door behind him. He rips off your clothes before ravishing your body. He sucks on your neck, leaving perfect little bruises, hoping the members would get to see you marked up later. One of his hands travels down to draw little circles on your clit, his other grabs your breast and pinches your nipple. You tried to hold in your moans, but your whole body felt overstimulated with pleasure. Jeongin whispers in your ear, “Don’t hold back your moans baby girl, let’s let them know how good I can make you feel.”

[tommydarlings]

Little Love Letters | c.s

pairing: dark!neighbour!mean!dom!carlos x sub!reader

warnings: psychotic behaviour, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, pure manipulation, inappropriate usage of ropes, usage of a knife, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, forced blowjob, gagging, brief mentions of killing somebody, brief mentions of stalking

w/c: 3.1k

summary: After receiving multiple creepy letters by an unknown stranger, you scarily run into the arms of your sweet, spanish neighbour carlos — sadly, you ran into the worst embrace you could have possibly ran into.

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Feeling lonely in your 20's is probably something a lot of people feel. The problem is, that literally all of your friends — who are the same age as you — are most definitely not lonely, they are either in a relationship or already married, one of your old Highschool friends just recently gave birth to her little babygirl.

And you are not even able to remember the last time when you talked to a man that wasn’t your gay best friend or your neighbour carlos.

Carlos, the kind Spaniard next door was very sweet and also quite attractive in your opinion, but you still never really felt the specific spark between the two of you when you crossed paths and talked for a bit.

But even though you had no partner and only a few friends that you barely saw since you’ve moved, you didn’t feel that alone.

Especially not since some unknown stranger — or maybe even 'secret admirer' sent you letters, every. single. day.

At first, you thought that it was a joke and ignored it, but after you’ve received the fourth letter, you knew that this was not a joke, this was serious.

Of course it scared and confused you, since nobody expect for your three friends know your new address, but at the same time, it wasn’t that bad.

Sometimes, this mysterious stranger filled the letter with sentences like,

“Each time i see you, you only get prettier.”

“You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, my love, ever.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now beautiful, wish I could feel your lips on mine.”

But sometimes they brought tears out of pure fear into your eyes,

“One day I will get you into my hands and I will never let you go, I promise you that y/n.”

“You will be mine, if you like it or not my darling, you will be mine.”

“I would kill for you, I would do absolutely anything for you y/n, anything you want me to.”

You gulped as you read those words, sometimes even wiping some tears away since some of his letters were filled with dark and psychotic sentences like that.

And since you were so scared — and also since it got everyday only worse and worse — you ran to the only person that you knew in this new town, your neighbour Carlos.

When you knocked in his door on a cold night at around 9 p.m., Carlos looked at you like you were crazy since you were only in a lose pair of jogger and a thin tanktop, making him quickly step aside and lead you into his cozy and especially warm home.

“Cariño, what are you doing here, don’t you have a jacket or a coat? C'mere,” he told you, placing his hand onto your back and leading you into his house, “It’s so cold outside, you’ll probably catch a cold y/n.”

But you only shook your head before you sat down onto the big couch in his living room, biting your lip before he got on his knees in front of you, being almost at eye level with you now.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Carlos quickly raised his brows before he scanned your body with his eyes, rough palms reaching out to grab your hands, turning your arms around and glancing at your unharmed skin.

You sighed before you pulled your arms away from his touch, briefly making him gulp. And if you haven’t lost your mind already, you could have sworn that you’ve noticed that he looked rather mad at you for a quick second as you basically threw his hands away, but you were probably just seeing things by now.

After letting out a long sigh, you shook your head, “N-No, I’m not hurt, don’t worry Carlos,” you spoke up, making him release a long breath, “I guess I’m just a bit…scared,” you admitted as you felt tears building up in your eyes, quickly trying to blink then away as the Spaniard furrowed his brows,

“Scared? Of what?” He asked you, lightly stroking your legs with his big palms now, listening to your voice explaining everything to him,

“It’s just, there are those extremely weird and scary letters that I’ve been receiving for a while now-”

Carlos immediately interrupted you, “For a while? Cariño, for how long? Why have you never told me,” he asked you in a strong Spanish accent.

“About a month now-”

“A month?” The Spaniard raised his brows, caressing your legs, “You should have told me y/n.”

You gulped before you shook your head and muttered a quick 'it's nothing' before you went on,

“Of course I felt a bit…watched as I got the first letter but the letter was actually filled with…really nice and sweet words, so I just smiled before I threw him away,” you continued your story, swallowing down some tears while you felt Carlos squeezing your knees almost like he was mad about the fact that you threw them away,

“But after some while the letters got…worse.”

Carlos tilted his head to the side, shaking his head before he spoke up with furrowed brows, “What do you mean when you say worse?” He asked you, thumb caressing your cold skin now,

You cleared your throat, “Well, they got creepier, sometimes this unknown stranger wrote things like, 'I would kill for you' or 'I am the only one you’ll need for the rest of your life,” you told him before you sniffled, quickly wiping a single tear away, making Carlos change his almost too serious facial expression in a matter of a second.

“Oh no, cariño,” he immediately spoke up as he noticed your wet eyes. Carlos raised one of his hands and wiped your tear away, cupping your cold cheek with his big, warm hand afterwards.

“Don’t cry, I know that all of this is very scary for you,” he mumbled reassuringly, “If you don’t feel save enough in your house, you can stay at my place tonight,” he suggested as you looked down at him, “I will keep you save, I promise,” Carlos told you with a sweet smile, making you laugh into his palm.

Carlos briefly laughed along before he stood up, towering over your sitting figure now, hand brushing your hair out of your face now,

“I will always keep you save, mi cariño,” he told you with more of a serious tone, only a tiny smile covering his lips now, making you quickly furrow your brows before you smiled up at him,

“Thank you, Carlos.”

“Oh,” he chuckled before he made his way to the kitchen, “No need to thank me.”

You wiped some more tears away before you stood up, Carlos standing in front of you now with two glasses filled with probably very expensive red wine, making you gasp.

“Only one glas, cariño, c'mon,” he smiled at you, basically pressing the glass filled with the alcoholic beverage already in your hand without giving you a chance to say anything.

You chuckled and flashed him a wide smile before you mumbled a quick 'okay', both of you saying a quiet 'cheers' before you emptied your glasses, Carlos closely watching you while you just enjoyed the wine.

“Wow,” you spoke up as you handed him the glass, “That was a really good one, not gonna lie…definitely needed that one,” he laughed at your statement, cleaning the glasses while you just stood in the big kitchen, slowly blinking your eyes.

Carlos turned his head and looked back at your slightly stumbling figure. And if you weren’t hallucinating, you could have sworn that you saw him smirking at you.

You gulped before you released a deep breath, smiling in his direction, or at least you tried to smile in his direction, “That w-was a s-strong one,” you chuckled before you heard Carlos chuckling as well, making you furrow your brows as you felt like the entire room was spinning around you, groaning as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Oh really?” He asked you, honestly, you were very surprised that you were even still able to understand him.

You swallowed before you touched your head, desperately trying to stop the spinning, “Y-Yeah, a very, very s-strong one, c-carlos,” you whined out, gulping a second time.

you blinked another time, and another time — and this time, your helping neighbour stood right in front of you.

“C-Carlos, I don’t feel,” you breathed out as you felt like you were on the brink of fainting, “so g-good,” you finished your sentence, quickly falling straight into the arms of the Spaniard, passing out in his warm embrace.

Carlos sighed after he caught you, “Each time I see you, you really do get prettier mi cariño.”

- - -

Waking up with a headache, with the feeling of a bit of dizziness and ropes around your wrists and ankles, was definitely something new for you.

Desperately, you tried to get free by tugging on the ropes that are attached to the wooden bedposts but no matter how hard you tugged on them, I didn’t work, there was no chance for you to escape any of this.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Carlos suddenly spoke up, making you lift your head and look with wide eyes at your Spanish neighbour. You gulped before you spook up with a trembling voice,

“C-Carlos,” you nervously breathed out, furrowing your brows as he stood next to your tied up figure, fingertips now gently running up and down your bare leg since he only left you in your underwear. “W-What is g-going on?” You asked him as you felt his hand creeping closer to your barely covered pussy.

Carlos only grinned down at you before he answered your question, “Let’s play a little guessing game, alright?” He tilted his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

Suddenly, Carlos pulled a little but sharp pocket knife out of his pocket, opening it, clearly wanting to make sure that you know how serious he is about his 'little guessing game', so you quickly nodded your head.

“Good,” he replied before he went on, “Do you think that… a man, send you those letters?” He asked you curiously, making you slowly nod, “okay,” he nodded along your silence answer, “Do you think that the man that send you those letters, knows you? I mean, like, has seen you before in person?”

You gulped before you nodded again, briefly squeezing your eyes shut as his big fingers started to circle your clit,

“Do you think that you know him?” Carlos asked you, briefly focusing his gaze onto his moving fingers now before he looked back at you.

You nodded again as tears build up in your eyes, hands tightly gripping the ropes as you felt like you were getting close to your release.

He nodded along again, “okay,” he quietly muttered, “Listen, I’ll give one last hint, alright?” Carlos asked you, making you quickly nod again,

“He said that if he gets you in his hands one day, he will never let you go, he promised you that,” he told you with a wicked smile on his lips right before you widened your eyes, tears gliding down your heated cheeks as he made you come through your panties with the tip of his fingers.

You wildly trashed around as you gasped and choked on your cries, sniffling and whining while Carlos slowed his movements down, eyes still looking at your face. He groaned,

“Just like that, mi cariño, that’s my good girl,” he whispered before he asked you, “Who do you think wrote those letters now?”

You gulped with fresh tears in your eyes as you looked up at him, squeezing your eyes shut as the realisation came over you, “Y-You did.”

He nodded, “That’s right, smart girl,” he quietly replied with a smile as his fingers left your pussy, gliding down to you ankles now,

“Since you were so smart and won the little game, I’ll get you out of those ropes now, okay?” He raised his brows as he lowered the little knife towards your ankle.

You barely had enough time to nod before he already removed the ropes around your ankles, quickly freeing your hands as well, giving you the ability to slowly sit up and look at him,

“What do we say? Thought you were so smart, baby.”

You gulped with tears in your eyes, “T-Thank you,” you slowly and softly replied, making him proudly smile down at you,

“No problem,” he replied with a nod of his head.

Then, Carlos stepped away from the bed, taking a few steps backwards until his back almost hit the door, making you furrow your brows before you wiped some of your tears away, focusing your gaze on his movements.

Carlos wiggled his pointer and middle finger in his direction, “C'mere,” he demanded in a quiet but stern tone, making you gulp before you stood up as well and slowly took cautious steps in his direction.

As soon as you were right in front of your fucked up neighbour, Carlos raised his head, clearly showing you that he’s visibly taller than you, making you feel unbelievably small in front of his broad figure.

“Get on your knees.”

You opened your mouth as you raised your head and looked up at the Spaniard, biting your lip as new tears made their way into your already wet eyes, “Oh no, no, no, mi cariño,” Carlos suddenly spoke up in a way softer tone as he cupped your cheeks, wiping some of the tears with the pad of his thumb away, “Está bien, solo ponte de rodillas por mí.” It’s okay, just get on your knees for me.

Without saying or doing anything else, you lowered yourself onto your knees since you were genuinely scared of him at the moment, knowing he could do anything he wants to you.

“Fuck,” Carlos mumbled under his breath, slowly running his finger through your hair, “Such a pretty sight, mi cariño,” he whispered in a deep tone while his other hand slowly unbuckled his belt, quickly freeing his very obvious erection.

You blinked some tears away since it all got so blurry by now, gulping again as he put the tip of his big cock in front of your still closed mouth.

“You know what to do, c'mon.”

Sniffling one last time, you opened your mouth, letting him shove himself into your mouth, hearing him groan and moan as he shoved himself so far into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him.

“C'mon,” Carlos whined a bit, faking a pathetic pout as you just focused yourself on breathing through your nose, “J-Just like that, f-fuck yes,” he groaned as you squeezed your eyes shut and took him as far as you possibly could, briefly making him smile down at you.

“Buena chica.” Good girl.

You whined around his big, wide dick, fingers squeezing his navy blue slacks as fresh tears blurred your vision again as you looked up at him while he forced himself down your throat.

Your neighbour groaned as he caught your gaze, briefly chuckling under his breath as he noticed your smudged mascara under your eyes. Suddenly, he quickly removed himself from you, having a tight grip on your head by the roots of your hair, “Apologise,” he demanded in a deep tone, making you furrow your brows as you sniffled.

“W-What?” You spoke up in a quite and unsure tone, “For what, c-carlos?”

Carlos threw his head back before he growled, harshly grabbing your head and forcing your face towards his erection again, mercilessly shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, making you gag again.

But he only forced himself for a split seconds down your throat, then he pulled out again and forced you to look up at him, “Apologise,” he harshly repeated but you were still confused.

You whined, “F-For wh-” but before you were able to finish your sentence, Carlos forced his cock down your throat again, holding your head in that exact position for a few seconds before he let you go and pulled away again, groaning as he did so while you only whined and sniffled, quickly wiping some of your tears away.

His next move suprised you a bit, Carlos slowly bended down so he was eye level with you and wiped your tears away, pouting a bit and actually looking sad and sorry, “Do you really don't know what I mean?” He asked you in a rather kind tone, quickly making you shake your head as he wiped new tears away, stroking your cheeks afterwards.

He slowly nodded, “okay mi cariño, I’ll give you a hint again, alright?” He tilted his head to the side before you nodded your head, “o-okay.”

“What did you do with the first letters after you’ve read them?” Carlos asked you in a deep but kind tone, making you bit your lip as you through about what you’ve done after you’ve opened them and read them — and then it made click.

“I-I threw them a-away,” you slowly answered as soon as Carlos rose to his feet again, sternly looking down at you now, “exactly,” he nodded.

You gulped before you squeezed your eyes shut and quickly spoke up, smiling a tiny bit to make it seem more believable, “I am s-so sorry, c-carlos,” you wildly claimed, “I regret t-throwing them a-away! I swear t-that as soon as I-I'm home, I’m g-gonna get them o-out of the trash b-bin and f-frame them in my b-bedroom, I promise!”

Carlos only furrowed his brows and confusingly tilted his head to the side, “As soon as you're home? Mi cariño, you are at home! And don’t worry baby, I’m gonna go over to your house then and get them out of the trash bin for you and frame them myself,” he proudly told you, “and then we can hang them up! Either in the living room or the bedroom, wherever you want pretty girl,” carlos stated with a small smile as you gulped before you slowly nodded,

“O-Okay,” you answered before Carlos spoke up again, “Does that sound good for you, baby?”

You quickly nodded, “Y-Yes carlos,” you said, “sounds g-great.”

He stroked your cheek, briefly bending down to kiss the top of your head, “Perfect, I love you,” he claimed with a happy smile.

You looked up at him, briefly furrowing your brows before you replied, “I l-love you t-too.” You mumbled as you leaned into the touch of his palm with salty tears in your eyes.

[leth-writes]

yandere Jason Todd x reader idea

So this is set in a world where yanderes, called ‘protectors’ or ‘protectives’, are in charge, and as a result, are legally allowed to kidnap people. I like to call it the ‘protectorverse’ in my notes; cheesy but effective name.

I’ve been plagued with ideas for the batfam recently, and right now I’m imagining it with Jason…

So think about Jason, and he’s met you a couple of times, right? He’s maybe even saved you a couple of times. He’s starting to recognize you.

And there’s just something… about you. I’m picturing a reader who’s like, kinda quiet, maybe a little bit anxious, just not able to defend themselves well. And if there’s anything that triggers that instinct in him, it’s someone who’s just a bit… weak. He’s got that deep, buried protective instinct, the one he’s spent years and years ignoring, that leftover from when he was younger and smaller and wanted to do something, change the world, instill some of that Robin magic.

And you, you make him feel that Robin magic again, like he can really help someone, can do something that’s not just beating someone up or shooting someone or threatening someone.

And of course, he starts talking to you pretty soon after. He approaches you as a civilian at first, and he’s a bit nervous. In my head, I always picture him as having some scars on his face, kinda like in Gotham Knights (even if I hate the haircut they gave him). He knows he’s a bit intimidating; he’s like 6’4”, huge muscles, scar on his face… But you aren’t scared. You’re perfectly nice, cordial, kind even.

You introduce yourself and the two of you really hit it off. You’re able to tap into that sensitive side, the part that enjoys reading Jane Austen and watching Pride and Prejudice and cuddling with Alfred the Cat.

But, maybe something happens. Someone puts together that Red Hood cares about you, and you’re kidnapped.

He feels rage like he hasn’t in years, not since after he first made it to Gotham, the pit rage tinging everthing green. And when he’s done, he’s drenched in blood and there aren’t any of your kidnappers standing. You’re sitting there, hyperventilating and scared he’s gonna hurt you next, he is the Red Hood after all, and he just can’t deal with seeing you so scared, especially not when it’s aimed at him.

So he turns tail and runs.

He avoids you in civilian life as well. You still haven’t connected him and Red Hood, and while you’re terrified of the latter, you definitely miss your friend.

His family definitely notices he’s acting off. First, they notice a sharp change; he starts being actually nice, he doesn’t fight with Tim or Bruce… they really enjoy finally getting to bond with Jason, especially Bruce. Maybe him and Bruce even team up for a while.

But after you’re kidnapped, they definitely notice him avoiding them. He’s so convinced he’s some unloveable dangerous ticking time-bomb that he’s avoiding everyone he normally associates with, spending more and more time as Red Hood just outright attacking mobsters. He’s subconsciously trying to make the city safer so he never has to see you scared again.

Tim’s particularly frustrated; he thought he was finally going to be able to bond with Jason, and so he starts digging. This eventually leads him to you.

So he approaches Bruce with his findings and explains what he thinks they should do; he wants to kidnap you, force Jason to interact with you and get over his fears. This way, you can’t get hurt, Jason gets to see you, Jason gets to bond with the family… Tim definitely sees it as a win on all fronts.

Bruce doesn’t see a problem with it; hell, he may even start to feel some protective instincts, platonic of course, over you as well. You’re just going about life almost completely obliviously, acting as though Gotham isn’t one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

So they kidnap you. Jason's probably mad at first, but you kinda latch onto him, seeing as you aren't scared of him as much as you are the others.

[morganbritton132]

Hi, I binge read the entirety of your EMTTS and i absolutely love it! I wanted to thank you for your dedication and for how much you made me laugh. It's really great to find a saga that's funny and also gut-wrenching and written by someone who's a) very talented and b) clearly loves the characters and makes them very well rounded even in little snippets of life. So thank you!!

I also can't stop thinking about the initial "is Dustin a person or a dog" confusion and how much it reminds me of that episode of B99 where everyone's asking subtle questions to their coworker to understand if Kelly is his wife or dog, like "did you two go on any nice walks recently?" and i can see someone like David trying it and failing

Thank you so much for so many kind words and I’m glad that you’re enjoying the series because I am too! (Also, super impressed you got through it because it’s a lot!). I love that cold opening of Brooklyn 99 and it was the inspiration for that tag.

Also, I love the idea of the first-year teachers trying to figure out if Dustin is a person or a dog. That’s brilliant!

And what’s funny is that David’s not even wrong in this situation.

He is like 99% sure that Dustin is the name of Steve’s brother, but he’s been wrong about literally everything else, so this debate continues into its third week at their table in the teacher’s lounge.

David argues, “I’ve heard him refer to Dustin as a kid.”

“People call their dogs their fur babies all the time,” Marissa argues back. “He’s had that dog for a few years, right? Certainly not a baby anymore so, kid.”

It is not helped by the fact that none of them have any memory of ever hearing Steve address his service dog by name. They’ve heard him call him ‘buddy.’ They’ve heard him say ‘c’mon, pal.’ There was even an unenthused ‘Ozz-some’ last week when Ozzy alerted Steve to an impending seizure during his lunch break.

Have any of them thought of looking at the dog’s collar? No.

They haven’t even considered asking a student.

They are in the middle of this debate when Steve comes into the teacher’s lounge to refill his coffee mug for the third time that day. If he notices that the room goes quiet every time he walks in, he doesn’t make any indication of it when he smiles tiredly, “Hey, guys.”

They murmur their hellos and give each other significant looks, daring the others to ask the important questions. No one asks. No one actually says anything until Steve yawns.

“Long night?”

“Yeah, definitely. Dustin had me up ‘til two in the morning,” Steve yawns again. He doesn’t notice how everybody perks up at that. “Poor guy gets so anxious this time of year.”

“Oh, really?” Marissa asks, giving David a look that says ‘see, dog.’. “Because of the homecoming fireworks?”

Steve hums in agreement and shakes his head like he sometimes does when he’s shaking a memory loose. He’s speaking more to himself when he adds, “I think I’m going to take him to the park after work. Get some fresh air, some exercise. He’s been cooped up for too long.”

“Anyways,” Steve says with a smile, tipping his coffee mug to them. “Gotta get back to grading papers.”  

[muzetrigger]

Nevermore Theory: It’s not about “The Tell-Tale Heart”

Okay, it’s time for another Friday night rant.

Recently, I’ve been coming across some excellent thoughts and predictions about Season 2, so now I’m ready to throw own my hat in the Nevermore Theory ring.

In Nevermore, almost every character is based off of one of Poe’s works. Lenore is from the poem “Lenore”, Morella is from the short story “Morella”, Prospero is from “The Masque of Red Death”, etc. There are also some characters that draw on more than one of Poe’s works, most notably Duke who takes inspiration from “The Cask of Amontillado” (Fortunato) and “The Duc de L’Omellete” (Duke).

Now, Annabel Lee is obviously based on the poem “Annabel Lee”, which the webcomic even opens with, but @moxiepower2 and @takescrackseriously have also made the connection between Annabel Lee and “The Tell-Tale Heart” and theorized that Annabel might also be a dual-themed character like Duke. I personally find that reading very convincing too!

(I mean c’mon, her spectre has a giant heart-shaped hole in it, the logo for the WEBTOON is beating heart with wings, it’s one of Poe’s most famous works, so on and so forth.)

But today, I’m going to stick my neck out and say, it’s NOT about “The Tell-Tale Heart” (at least not entirely. Annabel Lee could be based on even more than two works!).

I think Annabel Lee’s character points to another of Poe’s stories that lines up really well with the direction of Nevermore as a whole:

That’s right, it’s time to talk about “The Pit and the Pendulum”.

First, I’m going to need to explain this leap in logic, because it’s definitely not as clear as Annabel’s heart motif. Let’s start with the visuals.

Yes, Annabel Lee and Nevermore in general have a strong heart motif, but isn’t it a little odd that Annabel’s heart isn’t totally empty?

It’s a great visual focus for her character design, but that shape is awfully familiar, and it swings around an awful lot like a pendulum, doesn’t it?

And we know that Annabel (as an actual ghost-type spectre) can control the pendulum.

AND Annabel Lee gives the pendulum back to Lenore, with a lock of her hair tied around it, literally binding herself to the tool.

That’s… an awful lot of interaction with an item that is unrelated to her inspiration poem AND has served exactly zero purpose in the story so far. There HAS to be a reason Red and Flynn keep bringing this damn thing up because they play the long con with their foreshadowing (Dirt on Ada’s hands, Annabel Lee’s panic attack, Lenore taking Annabel’s blot, the gun having no bullets at the very beginning of the webcomic).

So now, I want to delve further into the actual text of “The Pit and the Pendulum” because it mirrors a lot what we’ve seen so far in season 1 and could be a good start for predicting what comes next in season 2!

For those who haven’t read “The Pit and the Pendulum” it follows an unnamed narrator who has been arrested by the Spanish Inquisition, pronounced guilty to some crime (it could have been anything, that’s just how the Inquisition rolls), and is subjected to all kinds of unusual torture methods before being rescued by the French army.

What I find so interesting about this story though is that its structure loosely matches the trials that the Deans have set up at Nevermore Academy.

For instance after swooning at his sentencing, the narrator wakes up in a pitch-black room and tries to figure out the shape of his prison by making a circuit. He finds that it’s around a hundred paces, but because of the “many angles in the wall” he can “form no guess at the shape of the vault”. In reality however, the room is perfectly square and only half the number of steps in circuit.

How did the narrator make such a big error in estimating the size of the room? Because he passed out right after missing the marker he had been using to keep track of his location, thus making two laps instead of one.

Now let’s compare it with the first obstacle for Nevermore students, the Labyrinth. Students are thrust into the maze without any knowledge of how to manifest (Annabel only knowing how to because of the Deans making a surprise appearance in class). So metaphorically, they’re also in the dark, and as Lenore and Duke find out as soon as they enter the maze, the labyrinth’s geometry also seems to shift.

Most convincingly (in my opinion), Lenore also looses track of herself during the Dementophobia trial, just like how the Pendulum narrator faints, which is one of the main reasons the misfit trio almost fail.

That near failure also mimics what happens next in the short story, the narrator trips and narrowly avoids falling into a giant pit (hence the title).

That really ticks off the Spanish Inquisition, just like how Lenore pisses off the Deans by surviving, and so the Inquisition does what it does best, and devises a new torture method. This time, the narrator awakens to find himself strapped down to a plank and gazing up at a figure of Kronos, only instead of Father Time wielding a scythe, he’s wielding a massive bladed pendulum (there’s the second half of the title, you’re welcome).

I find this image very telling because it’s supposed to relay the message that the narrator’s death is inevitable. You can’t fight the passage of time, and it doesn’t get less subtle than the god of time killing you with a clock part.

Similarly, ringing the bell in the widow’s watch is supposed to be an impossible task, meant mainly to give the students who have manifested a chance to flex their powers. The Deans admit as much:

But back to the short story, the narrator doesn’t exactly realize his predicament at first. He just thinks it’s kind of an interesting change of scenery and he’s more worried about the fact that his captors have provided him with “meat pungently seasoned” and no water to quench his thirst, which he figures is the real torture method. Oh and the rats. They’re pretty scary too, especially when it occurs to him that he’s definitely not the first person to be shoved in this room, and those rats have to have been eating something.

Eventually, he does notice the pendulum slowly lowering and spends the next *checks notes* 9 paragraphs alternating between despair, apathy, and frenzy. (There’s actually quite a lot to dissect here with regards to Nevermore’s treatment of madness, but let’s save that for later.)

Then he gets a bright idea and rubs spicy meat all over his bonds with the one free arm the Inquisition left him to presumably eat said meat.

Why does he do this?

To entice the rats into eating his bonds, of course! He has to play dead for a bit, and also let rats crawl all over him, but it works and our narrator escapes after a few cuts.

Okay, now let’s take a look at the parallels to that trial in Nevermore. I’ve already gone over the comparison to the bell ringing class as a kind of Sisyphean task, but Lenore also almost gets eaten by Prospero’s rats:

She also succeeds because the people, who are supposed to be her enemies, help her, just like how the rats aid the narrator in escaping. Did I just compare Ada, Pluto, Morella, and Annabel Lee to rats? Yes. Yes, I did.

But I’m going to specifically single out Annabel Lee in this case because Lenore also has to play dead in order to ring the bell. Specifically she pretends to give in to Annabel’s “Kiss of Death”.

So both Lenore and the narrator are momentarily successful after reports of their death are greatly exaggerated.

Then they have the crushing realization that they’re still trapped. Then narrator in the dungeons of Toledo, and Lenore with…

(Minor aside, this is some phenomenal scene work.)

And now the final trial (for our hapless narrator at least). The Inquisition, having been denied their sliced prisoner sandwich, decide to roast him alive instead. You see, the metal walls of the cell can actually be heated up, oh and also they can flatten themselves by pulling the corners apart like a collapsing square.

So the narrator has two choices. Death by being burned alive, or death by falling into the pit at the center of room (remember that detail? It’s still the same room).

To put it in Nevermore terms, Lenore can either test her luck with the Deans OR:

This guy :)

Now, do I think the Deans created The Wild Hunt? No, and I would be very interested in if the Stag turns out to be related to Theo in some way, but I bet the Deans purposefully invited The Wild Hunt into the Academy in order to corral them back into obedience/kill off the troublemakers. (Or maybe they were just bored, who knows?)

NOW FOR THE ACTUAL THEORY PART (How in the world did it take so long to get here? I only have a paragraph left in the short story to use for theory crafting!)

”The Pit and the Pendulum” ends with the narrator being saved literally as he is falling into the eponymous pit by General Lasalle of the French army. That doesn’t make sense because Lasalle wasn’t in the Battle of Toledo where the story takes place, but anachronisms are incredibly prevalent in Nevermore. Pretty much every character comes from a different time and place than the others, most prominently Eulalie, who is probably Japanese and probably died in WWII (though who knows, maybe she was a proto-weeb and died in the firebombings of Dresden).

My theory is that similarly, the main cast is going to be saved by a third party who intervenes during the Hunt. Then, the narrative is going to shift away from Nevermore Academy and towards the afterlife at large. We’ve gotten plenty of hints about the outside, particularly towards the end of Season 1, so I don’t think it’s that unlikely, and if I may make a second literary connection, Nevermore is kind of like the Hunger Games.

Wait! Let me explain.

You have a group of kids/young adults fighting in a premade arena designed by antagonistic game makers where only one of them can come out alive. Generic? Yes? But looking at the Hunger Games Trilogy’s structure, we start with the Hunger Games, get a variation in the Quarter Quell, and then abandon the games to explore a broader scope of the world.

Now, I have the utmost faith in Red and Flynn’s ability to keep the dark academia setting fresh, but the path of least resistance might be getting out of the classroom.

It’s a weak and vague theory, that I don’t even really subscribe to myself, but I thought I should follow the short story to its end at least.

But if I don’t believe in my theory, why did I bother spending the last two hours writing this post?

Well, one, I really like pointing out the parallels between Poe’s work and Nevermore. It’s clear that Red and Flynn put so SO much effort into Nevermore and I genuinely think getting to be in on all those details enhances the reading experience.

But two, do you remember how I started this post?

That’s right, talking about Annabel Lee.

I’ve been doing a lot of comparison between Lenore and the actual text of “The Pit and Pendulum” but I want to show you this illustration of the short story by Harry Clarke:

Does that outfit remind you of anything? Maybe…

Now, Clarke drew the above piece nearly 80 years after “The Pit and the Pendulum” was first published, but considering how prominent this illustration is for the short story, I bet Red and Flynn studied it when writing Nevermore, and I find that really intriguing considering where they chose to reuse the outfit.

There are ribbons all over Nevermore (everyone with a ponytail has one to tie up their hair, Ada uses hers to set Lenore’s broken fingers), but the motif of being bound by ribbons occurs when the narrative is invoking ideas of madness and memory, specifically for Annabel.

And would you look at that. “The Pit and the Pendulum” brings up both of those ideas together: “the madness of a memory which busies itself among forbidden things.”

That’s the last line of the third paragraph, and it’s exactly what Annabel is doing in the bathtub, recalling taboo memories of Lenore.

Plus, this passage happens as the narrator is trying to recover from a swoon, and what do you know? There’s only one character in Nevermore who swooned in season one: Annabel Lee.

Okay? So? Nevermore already has a lot of parallels to this damn story, and I’ve spent the entire post point them out for crying out loud.

But! Poe is very specific about how we recover from a swoon:

“In the return to life from the swoon there are two stages; first, that of the sense of mental or spiritual; secondly, that of the sense of physical, existence. It seems probable that if, upon reaching the second stage, we could recall the impressions of the first, we should find these impressions eloquent in memories of the gulf beyond.” (Emphasis added)

Again, doesn’t that sound familiar? Throughout season 1, the main cast have all been slowly recovering their memories and thus unlocking their spectres which represent fragments of their true selves and desires.

So here’s my actual theory: in the past, Nevermore Academy was used by lost souls to recover their “mental and spiritual” identities, before they reclaimed their “physical existence” at the light beyond the grounds in order to “return to life”.

More importantly, I think the final arc of Nevermore (or epilogue I guess is more likely?) will take place in the mortal world and be about the cast “[recalling] the impressions of [their mental or spiritual senses” (ie. their time at Nevermore Academy) post-second stage, thus completing Poe’s perfect recovery.

Reincarnation isn’t Nevermore’s endgame.

Maybe they have to leave their spectres behind at Nevermore Academy like in the “Theo is the Stag” theory and the final act is about them reclaiming their personas stands spectres to fight against the Deans, or maybe we’re going to go Kimi no Na wa and just get them running into each other and remembering (which would be lame) or Annabel being the only one who remembers and gradually hiking across the globe to find the others (which would be a very cool reversal given how Lenore is usually the one trying to form genuine connections [we’re starting to see some promising Prospero-Annabel friendship development though!] but now we’re also getting into fanfic territory).

Personally, my happy ending at the moment would be Annabel and Lenore teaming up, kicking the Deans out, and reestablishing Nevermore Academy as a sojourn for reincarnating spirits. That way we don’t have to go through reincarnation drama (again) and everyone who sticks around can just chill out and lead peaceful (after)lives or be teachers and show newcomers how to awaken their spectres. But again, fanfic territory.

Wow, that was a whole lot of text that didn’t really amount to an actual theory, but I hope you guys enjoyed reading it?

TLDR if you didn’t: Nevermore season 1 is actually a sapphic rewrite of “The Pit and the Pendulum”, the Deans are the Spanish Inquisition, and the Nevermore’s endgame is going to take place in the mortal world after reincarnation.

Also, I have no spine like Ada and don’t have any conviction in my theories lmao

[mysadcorner]

Oh wow! I'm so excited to see someone else writing Black Butler fics! I felt alone </3

I have a request for some headcannons!

How do you think Sebastian would react to fem NewDemonMaidReader?

Newborn Demon?

Reader is aloof and often slacking in servicing her contract, only really doing anything for said contract if she finds it entertaining.

She teases her contractor a lot with "should've read the fine print", stating that she's not fully bound to them, but they are bound to her.

Would Sebastian enjoy her shady nature, or find it distasteful?

I've had this idea for a while, but I can't seem to find a way to execute it properly. So I pass it to you :) if you want it of course

Sorry if it's too long! I tried to condense my creative thoughts!

From: @luckyladylottie

Sebastian Michaelis x NewBornDemon!Reader Headcanons

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- Credit to the images owners - Please be specific about characters wanted in headcanons and read request rules -

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• Sebastian will be quite apprehensive when meeting with another demon, especially one contracted to someone just like he is to ‘Ciel’. However, seeing that you’re a recently new demon raises a lot of concerns for him, he’s quite aware of how obvious or vindictive some demons can be, and will definitely try to keep an eye on you when you’re around to see if you act out or misbehave by his own standards.

• He certainly won’t agree with your styles of being a butler or maid, if that’s your method of blending in. He holds himself to quite a high standard, especially since the social circles his master is from is quite significant and valued as important. Anything less than absolute dutifulness, at least for appearances, will be judged by him.

• He’s surrounded by a lot of people with questionable personalities, and certainly those that are more than annoying. However, no matter what kind of personality you have, he wouldn’t really mind. He mainly bases his judgement on people by their actions, not by how they are generally perceived.

• The relationship between the two of you would gradually become that similar to mutual enemies, despite usually being civil to each other. This would especially be the case if you’re usually defiant, refusing to follow his lead or accepting his methods of doing things and behaving.

• He would always be expressing his disapproval of whatever methods you’re using or your behaviour, but he would keep this for in private. Usually he would just give you a horrendous glare and occasionally steps in when you’ve seriously gone too far in his opinion - as subtly as he can intervene, though.

• He would want to set a better example for you, even more so since he knows that you haven’t been a demon for nearly as long as he has. But eventually he will just settle to letting you do your own thing, knowing that trying to influence you at all would just be pointless.