#i was stuck in traffic don't judge me

[areislol]

"forget him, be with me instead."

ft— various male genshin x fem! reader (childhood friend trope)

warning — slight angst but it's just a pinch! comfort, mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, kissing. headcanons are a bit down! modern! au, implied toxic relationship

a/n— yay time to write some fluff after writing angst, what a life! listened to laufey's 'everything i know about love' album while listening to this ^^ this is a little bit rushed and might be a wee bit shitty but uhm please don't judge your girl was out here suffering

wordcount. 3.7k

synopsis. your boyfriend stood you up on your date, once again, and as usual your childhood friend is here to comfort you.

In the soft glow of the quaint café, you sat alone, your anticipation slowly morphing into a quiet ache. You had meticulously chosen your outfit, a delicate dance between casual and elegant.

You had arrived early, your excitement palpable. The minutes stretched into an eternity as the minutes on the clock ticked away, and the once hopeful glimmer in yours eyes dimmed with each passing moment.

The ambient chatter and clinking of utensils became a dissonant soundtrack to your growing unease. You checked your phone repeatedly, hoping for a message or a call that would explain the delay.

The vibrant ambiance of the café, which had initially felt like the backdrop to a romantic night, now served as a cruel witness to your solitude.

You take out your phone from your pocket, anxiously checking the time on your phone before sliding your hand back in, clenching it tightly. 8 PM. Your heart sunk as you realized that it was now exactly 8 PM, the time you both agreed on arriving.

You didn't want to jump to conclusions, maybe he was stuck in traffic? But then again it was 8 PM, barely any road traffic. Was his boss keeping him back for a little bit? Did the wifi cut off in his building, was that why he couldn't send you a text?

Despite trying to comfort yourself by putting ideas in your head, you had a hunch that he was most definenetly not coming, he had forgotten about your date.

It wasn't the first time he stood you up, as a matter of fact, he had stood you up many times but you always pushed it aside. You pushed his mistakes aside, why? Because he was your boyfriend. You knew it was wrong but... what could you do? You didn't want to lose him.

As the realization settled in, a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment clouded your expression. The waiter, noticing your solitary presence, approached with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

You mustered a brave smile and declined a menu, your appetite for food dissipating. The warmth of the café offered little solace as you continued to sit on your reserved seat, looking like an utter fool just sitting there, waiting for someone who wasn't going to come any time soon.

You checked the time once again, 8:10 PM, seconds went by, then minutes, and hours. You checked the time one more time—the clock reached 10:15 PM. You had arrived at the café at 7 PM.

Sighing at the realization that you really sat there and waited for your 'boyfriend' for three hours, you felt like an idiot. And even more of an idiot of the fact that you let this slide so many times.

You decide to leave the café, ignoring the sympathetic looks given your way. You take out your phone from your pocket once again, this time you didn't check the time but rather press on a familiar icon before making a call.

As you foot taps on the ground anxiously you wait for him to pick up the phone. You stand outside just a few inches away the café door, as you wait for what felt like an eternity all the emotions got to you.

Tears welled in your eyes, betraying the resilience you had tried so hard to maintain. Your emotions that were long kept in check, spilled over like a dam bursting at the seams. The phone continued to buzz, waiting for the other side to pick up.

The streetlamp cast a soft glow on your tear-streaked face as you lowered your phone, defeated by both the silence and the heartache. But just as the phone was about to go silent, by some miracle he picked up.

"Y/N?" For some odd reason hearing his voice made you have the urge to bawl your eyes out once again. You hastily wiped away your tears and attempted to sound nonchalant.

"Hey I uh.. I—" you paused, voice a delicate balance between composure and fragility. Sighing, you continued. "I got stood up."

Your words were short and blunt, but by now you were holding back a waterfall. You patiently wait for his answer over the deafening silence. "... Again? That boy.."

His voice was laced with annoyance, disappointment and concern.

"Where are you now? At the café? Stay right there, shit it's raining, make sure to stay under cover okay? I'll be there in about 10 minutes."

You could hear the sounds of him excusing himself from his boss and the angry cries from his boss.

"Aren't you at work though? It's okay you don't have to come pick me up."

"Are you crazy? So what if I'm at work? I'm not leaving you out there alone, plus it's raining. I know you hate having wet hair." Well, he wasn't lying. He was your childhood friend after all, he knew almost everything about you.

And before you knew it, just after a couple minutes of ending the call you noticed a figure making it's way towards you, umbrella in hand as he gives you a small smile. All the while rain was pouring down on your head.

is extremely happy that you finally realized that your boyfriend (soon to be ex) is horrible, he won't show it though. but he is really happy.

the first thing he did when he saw you absolutely drenched in the heavy downpour was take off his jacket and place it over your shoulders and hold the umbrella over your head. there were many questions he wanted to ask but the main one was "are you alright?"

yes he wanted to question about that damn lout (your boyfriend) but he already knew the answer. it happened too many times, way too many times. you and your boyfriend would agree to go on a date, you would arrive early or on time, you wouldn't get an answer from him when you questioned why he was late, minutes would turn into hours and then you would call him.

he wasn't mad at you, no never, but your (*cough* ex *couch*) boyfriend? absolutely. if anything he wanted to prove to you that he was a horrible boyfriend so he would always come to pick you up and try to knock some sense into your head, sometimes his words would go from one ear and out your other.

when you don't answer his question and begin to bawl your eyes out he immediately begins to panic, because you are crying hard. he only lets out a soft sigh before holding the back of your head and gently pushes your face in his chest, letting you cry into his chest. he softly pats your head in an attempt to comfort you (it does)

he resist the urge to say "i told you so" because, he did tell you so, but he knew it would only dampen your mood. he reassures and shushes you warmly, and his soft voice really does calm you down.

"shh, i know it's okay. you'll be fine. he is a big jackass alright? don't waste your pretty tears on him."

you both begin to walk together through the raining weather, he obviously doesn't want to see you cry so he offers to buy you your favourite snacks and drinks in a convenience store. you refuse, thinking that you already troubled him enough but NO he will not take no for an answer.

"trouble me? never."

and it worked!! your mood slightly lifted after chugging down your favourite packet of chips. in all honestly he found your puffy cheeks and eyes cute, the way your eyes glistened slightly from your tears, and the way you were chomping on your food? so adorable.

when you quietly thank him his heart bursts even more (like every other day he sees you) but he waves his hand, "it's nothing, sit down, lets talk."

why did he sound so scary? he would never know. when you both sit down on the ground, back pressed against the wall of a shop, he begins to question you. "you do realize that this is like the tenth time he stood you up right?" you nod your head sadly as you were reminded of what had happened.

he sighed, "i just want you to know that this.. you can't just forgive him after this, after all of this. he even forgot your anniversary! i'm.. i'm just worried for you. you know that?"

you knew he was only worrying for you and wanted the best for you. but despite all the other times that you would dismiss his worries and say "it's okay we all make mistakes" you really thought about it this time. and boy was he right.

do you know how ecstatic he was when you told him that you would break up with him!? HE WAS OVER THE MOON, he was literally on cloud 9. not that he could show it thought, you would be suspicious of him. but then again he has had the biggest and fattest crush on you since you were little.

but after that he tried his best to make you happier (even if he hated doing it), he would point out the most stupidest shit ever, "oh look at that squirrel, Y/N, doesn't it remind you of childe?" or "wow the uh, the light is really.. light'ing.."

sigh.. he's trying his best okay..

although it wasn't really funny, the way he spoke was most definenetly funny. when he notices how you hold back your laughter or even chuckle slightly that's just his motivation to do better, he would also tell you silly little jokes that he googled on his phone (while you were looking away) quickly.

buttt now he has an even better idea :) what is it you say? taking you out on a date of course! right now...? why not right now!

(please he's just really excited that you're going to break up with that old hag, meaning he has a shot!! he will definenetly give it his all to try and woo you.)

— ALHAITHAM, kaeya, WRIOTHESLEY, AYATO, dainsleif, NEUVILLETTE, CYNO, ZHONGLI, tighnari

starts scolding you and goes on a bit ass rant about how you deserve better than that (AND I QUOTE) "low life lout", he thinks he sounds all harsh and mean but to you he only sounds like he was really worried about you

"seriously, how many times does this boy have to repeat his actions until the truth gets through your thick noggin." he heaved a great sigh, a bit dramatic don't you think? he continues to rant and rant about blah blah blah you weren't listening. and only when he notices that tears are rolling down your cheeks freely does he shut the hell up.

"hey hey— what's wrong? don't cry.." he tries his best to act slightly annoyed because truly he kind of was, he hated seeing you hang out with your 'boyfriend', he hated seeing how your eyes would light up every time you saw him, the effort you put into your relationship, he hated how blind you were to his actions.

but, despite his tough outer shell he was really a softie inside. so when you began to bawls your eyes out (again) he immediately switches up, his voice that was so harsh was no soft and tender. a tone he barely uses (he only spoke nicely to you okay!!)

a sigh. "i didn't mean to be mean, i'm sorry. i'm just so annoyed that you keep on.. i don't know! i'm just frustrated okay." you were confused? why was he frustrated, shouldn't it be the other way around since.. you.. were the one being stood up?

he (surprisingly) wipes away your tears, cupping your cheeks with his hand as he uses his thumb to dry your tears. "i don't like seeing you cry, okay? follow me now" you were confused again, but follow him anyway.

he literally bought you back inside the café, the waiter looks happy and surprised (in her head she was thinking: wow so this is the fucker who stood his own girlfriend up?), when he was ordering your favourite pastry and drink he was really confused about why the lady was giving him such a dirty face.

"hey y/n, any idea why that lady over there is giving me a stank eye?"

he watches as you eat your food happily, he only hoped that you had forgotten what had happened before, not only that but he sees this as a way to show you that he would be a much better boyfriend, i mean look at him! he came (he would always come on time), memorized what your favourite snacks/pastries/drinks were, sat down with you. he wasn't trying to boast but.. he would make one hell of a boyfriend than your current one.

you noticed that he wasn't eating and just.. staring at you. "want some?" you offered, he shook his head no but you wouldn't take that for an answer. you shove a spoonful of cake in his mouth and smile happily. "yummy?" he only grumbles, looking like an angry cat. "mmm i guess.." (he really liked it please feed him more)

seeing you smile after bawling your eyes out and wasting your tears on somebody you didn't deserve felt like a treat. he also wipes the excess food and crumbs on the corner of your lips, he looked adorable when he was concentrating hard to wipe it off, and it wasn't like he was trying to be romantic as he wasn't maintaining eye contact, but when he backed away and looked at you and notices how you were smirking he scoffed.

"don't you get any ideas now." you giggled at his words and continued to eat your cake as well as occasionally feeding him as well. all you were thinking about was ow delicious the cake was but all he was thinking about was you. he was.. basically taking you out on a date. woah.

when you both exit the shop, you thank him for the food and also apologize for dragging him out here in the rain and how you got his hair wet. "yeah well yours is too. you can blame that asshole." he noticed how your face slightly drops, a solemn expression on your face.

"yeah.. i guess so." !?!?!?! you actually agreed with him?!?! HE WON AT LIFE WOOOOOOOOOOO

and now that you both are on the same terms he can finally talk to you about everything, but all the while he was explaining how he saw him (your soon to be ex) treat you, he couldn't help but also include his feelings. that's one thing you caught on.

"he forgot your anniversary, did you forget? i was absolutely frustrated! i mean at his actions, i mean his actions and him! i would never do that if i was your boyfriend. h—hypothetically."

you had a hunch that he had a thing for you, but not that big of a crush. maybe he was just really angry that he kept stumbling over his words?

either way, he told you what you should do you this time you listened, chiming in with your own experiences with your boyfriend and the more you did that the more you began to notice hoe you really looked past all his red flags.

safe to say he won at life, again, this time he won't pussy out on you and will for sure confess to you!

— WANDERER, XIAO, dottore, diluc, PIERRO, albedo

a bit... too giddy. willingly SHOWS and TELLS that he is happy. i mean not at you being stood up but how you're finally getting a grip, wait.. is than a "i'm going to break up with him" he heard?!?! GOD BLESS

he doesn't say anything at first, comforting you and drying your hair the very best he can (literally bought a book to dry your hair: swatting it), he lets you cry on his shoulder, letting you hug him tightly (not that he was complaining... oh did you just break his ribs? nah it's all good)

he lets you calm down first to the point where it's just hiccups rather than tears rolling down your cheeks (and when you could barely breathe by how you were choking on your tears), he holds you in his arms, rocking you slightly.

"okay, i don't want to sound.. rude but, i think it's time you start to notice how badly he's treating you. i mean, look at you, you're a mess (dare i say, a beautiful one), he made you feel this, he made you cry. and he isn't here to apologize. this isn't the first time too, y/n, i'm begging you, please don't look past this."

he tries his best to explain to you everything, what he saw, what he is doing to you, how he feels and how you feel (he knows everything shh). and you can't deny it, you won't, because everything he was telling you was true. and you hated how you couldn't deny anything.

he leaves you for a couple of minutes so that you could collect your thoughts and emotions while he went to go buy some snacks, especially some sweets and savory. "this should cheer you up" he says as he passes the plastic bag to you.

"oh wait i forgot to get some ramen, be right back!" you didn't have enough time to stop him as he was already on his way to grab a hot cup of ramen for you. he was just too sweet. when he came back with your favourite cup of ramen he would open the lid and blow onto it, he insisted on feeding you, saying that you must've been exhausted from today (but you barely did anything?)

you can't help but notice how... somewhat happy he was, normally when he comes after you call him (after being stood up once again) he seemed concerned for you, and he does look concerned for you, i mean he is always but today... he looked giddy. was it maybe because you said that you would be breaking up with your boyfriend today? so strange..

!!! not only that but he encourages you to break up with him, and he doesn't mean it like that, he just wants the best for you. and you obviously say yes because.. everything he is telling you IS true. next thing you know he's literally helping you write a sincere paragraph to your boyfriend on text.

"oh you should send a voice message as well, i think it'll really help him understand how serious you are."

you're too afraid to make a voice message? no worries, he'll do it for you!! he will send the most passive aggressive voice message know to man kind (he had to fight back the urge to yell obscenities over call). basically, this man is way too happy, not that it's suspicious or anything, just a little worrying LMAO

he's just really happy, happy for him and you! it's a win-win honestly. you finally get out of that toxic relationship and finally get a hold of reality, but also for him to finally get his chance to maybe try to confess to you. (one day... but he'll make sure to woo you sooner or later before someone else swoops you off your feet)

he's literally on his way to manifest for you two to be together, repeat after him, i don't chase, i attract (he literally chases after you so uhm forget about that please)

— THOMA, KAVEH, LYNEY, itto, gorou, KAZUHA, pantalone, heizou, VENTI, capitano, childe, baizhu

As the rain began to clear, only leaving behind a tranquil symphony of soft pitter-patters. You two stood next to each other, letting the silence take over.

All the while he was contemplating something, something that will change your relationship for the better or worse.

Should he kiss you?

For years he had always wanted to feel your lips against his but he was always so nervous to do so.

But right now? It was the perfect opportunity, the raining had almost cleared, the atmosphere was soft and romantic. If he didn't do it now then who knew how long it would take for him to build up his courage again?

All of the sudden he cupped your cheek with warm palms, the tenderness in his touch was evident even in the hesitant pause that hung in the air.

For a moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes, a silent contemplation of unspoken desires. Was he really about to pussy out again?

You, for one, was a bit puzzled by the sudden shift in the atmosphere and his sudden actions. When your gaze met his with curiosity. In that fleeting moment, he knew he had to do it.

Even if it ruined everything he built up with you.

He muttered a breathless "fuck it," as if casting aside the weight of hesitation that tethered him, in a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a passionate kiss that stole her breath away.

You were caught off guard, were you imagining this? No you couldn't be, it felt so real. Your heart raced with a mixture of surprise and delight. The kiss was passionate and full of raw emotion, igniting a fire within her that she was pressed so far down.

The softness of his lips against yours sent waves of tenderness through your body, and in that moment, your realized that this kiss was not just a spur-of-the-moment act; it was a reflection of the unspoken feelings that had been building between them for so long.

His touch was gentle yet filled with an underlying intensity, it was a kiss that sparked something, expressing all the words they had been too afraid to say.

You closed your eyes, allowing him to continue as your hands held onto his wrist. A couple of seconds passed by when he, unfortunately, pulled away—your eyes locked once again in a silent acknowledgment.

His eyes held such a fiery passion as you stared deeply into your eyes. He looked relieved as if finally taking initiative that had been weighing him down.

"I... But—" You were still left breathless as you spoke, you felt an underlying guilt, still not haven broken up with your boyfriend yet.

He understood what you were thinking and feeling, "look at me, Y/N." At his request you did so, observing his face and trying to guess what he was going to do next. Kiss you again? (Yes please)

"Forget him, be with me instead."

note: off to continue writing for my sagau now, this was more like a shitpost for the shits and giggles but aye

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

[literaila]

house rules (roommate au)

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary:

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else."

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, slight angst, mentions of tampons (terrifying), suggestive comments, absurdly long, alternate universe characters

a/n: to all of my frequent readers--i have never claimed to be sane :)

*

in the broad spectrum of things, opening the door in nothing but your bathrobe and a ridiculously bright orange clay mask is not the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you. 

oh no, puking on your first ever date at seventeen definitely takes the cake. finding your seventh-grade friends bent over a table reading your diary--in which you wrote many explicit things about them, not to mention, yourself--might be even worse. riding your bike into the pond by your house in front of all of your--much older, much cooler--neighbors, even. picking up your coffee in your favorite cafe and spilling it, which was not only devastating but humiliating because you managed to spill your mocha on every other drink waiting there (effectively banning you from returning) still haunts your dreams. even walking down the street and trying to pretend like you didn't just trip over air in front of every single one of your peers still lingers in your mind, waiting for a moment of peace before it attacks.

you're used to the feeling of dread in your stomach and the nights spent thinking about all of these moments, like a scrapbook in your mind--just there to make your skin itch. 

but, it does get a little bit worse when you realize the man you've opened the door to is none other than a potential roommate; and when you remember that you forgot he was coming. 

or when you have to pull your robe tighter around your abdomen just to make sure that you don't give this man a show before you even shake his hand. 

"is this apartment 214?" he asks, looking right at you--and your legs, naturally--with a confused grin on his face, but grin nonetheless. 

so immediately you slam the door. 

you turn around, with wide eyes, face crackling from the movement, and check your phone frantically. yes, it is the 18th, and yes it is 11:32, which means he was supposed to be here over a half-an-hour ago. 

and also you've just slammed the door in his--satoru gojo, the only person who's even bothered to respond to your ad about an available room--face. 

oh, fuck. 

so you groan, refraining from knocking your head against the door just in case he can still hear, and open it again. a little bit less this time. 

"gojo?" you ask, voice rough and slightly irritated. 

"the one and only. i'm pretty sure this is the right apartment," he says, and you don't fail to notice his tone of voice as he continues, "but if it's not, then fate must've brought us together."

you narrow your eyes, hoping that he doesn't notice the specks of dust that ebb from your skin. "you're late." 

"and you're less than dressed." 

"i thought you stood me up." 

he snorts. "so you started an impromptu spa day? or was this supposed to be another perk of the apartment?" 

you glower, opening the door a bit more just so he can see the fury in your eyes. "i don't think someone who doesn't even text to cancel has any right to judge my self-care practices." 

"i didn't cancel. i'm here." 

"you're late." 

"so i've heard..." he drawls. 

you blink at him, and he blinks back--or at least, you're assuming. because he's wearing sunglasses even though it's cloudy outside. 

and he's aggressively taller than you. he might not even fit through the door. 

you don't look away, waiting for him to break. which he does because you're well-practiced in men of his standard. "so, are you going to let me in?" he asks. 

"are you going to apologize for being late?" 

"i'm sorry that i'm late," he says, immediately, with an air of fake sincerity. "i got stuck in traffic. i would've called, but my phone died." 

"really?" 

the smile reappears, as if from magic. "no, but did it make you want to let me in?" 

you glare even harder--which is tough, honestly--and begin to shut the door. until your plan is interrupted by a foot. "excuse you," you say, to this man, who you already hate. and his stupid chelsea boots.

"look, i'm sorry. i'm trying to ease the tension--because honestly i wasn't expecting to get an eyeful this early in the morning, and you seem uncomfortable--" 

you slam the door against his foot again. 

gojo doesn't even wince. "and also, you're, like, the only person with a room in the middle of october. and i... could really use a place to put my bed. so, can i look around, at least? i'll keep my eyes closed every time i'm facing your direction. i can even give you my rent money today if it works out."  

something in his voice already implies that it will. 

and, well. despite your very short robe and your very dry face mask, he is the only person who's even inquired about the room. and you desperately need a roommate; someone to clean up with, someone to make coffee for, someone to argue about toilet paper direction with, and, most importantly, someone who has money and can keep you from getting evicted from the only place you've lived since high school. 

so you sigh. think about moving back home and suffering at the will of your parents. 

it takes about three seconds to say, "will you wait out here while i get dressed?" 

an eyebrow peeks out from behind the sunglasses, as white as his hair. "how long?" 

"ten minutes. maybe twenty." 

"do you have a chair?" he asks and moves his foot from the door. 

and so you close it without answering and rush to your room to find something that's still clean. 

there's nothing that you'll actually wear, but satoru gojo doesn't deserve your fresh appearance anyway. he can have day-old wrinkled jeans and a t-shirt you got when you were twelve. 

as slow as humanly possible, you remove the face mask, trying to keep your hair out of the way, and think about putting on makeup--which you probably would have done, had you remembered he was even coming--but decide not to. 

in reality, it only takes about seven minutes for you to look mostly presentable and get rid of the mugs you left cluttered around the dining room table. 

but you wait an extra four, just to mess with him. 

and then, eleven minutes later, you open the door again to the man leaning against the wall, playing what looks like candy crush on his phone. 

you attempt a fake smile. 

"hey," he says, with that same grin, "you have clothes." 

you drop your face. "i will close this." 

he isn't phased, just pockets his phone and leans in to look behind you at the entryway. 

you roll your eyes, but open the door anyway, and usher him in. he rubs his feet against your welcome mat and toys with a keychain you have hanging from a coat rack, then looks to you, like he's waiting for a tour. which, you guess, he is.

"there's only two rooms, one bath. it's not very big, so if you need a lot of space..." 

"i can manage," he says, and follows you as you walk into the kitchen. "did you decorate?" 

"um... sort of." 

"sort of?" 

"i, uh, had a roommate before and he bought most of the decorations before i moved in. but i've added a few things. i'm not picky about aesthetics." 

gojo hums. "why'd he move out?" 

"we were together and he cheated on me," you say, flatly, as you have been for the past month and a half. "and then told me i couldn't use his netflix account anymore after i broke up with him." 

gojo merely blinks and gestures toward the wall behind you. "so you didn't buy that dancing frog thing?" 

you turn around, rolling your eyes. "no. i forgot that was there." 

"okay, good, 'cause that's hideous." 

you snort, but nod your head and walk down the hallway. gojo's footsteps follow you as you open the door to his potential bedroom. "it's the bigger of the two," you tell him, "but the bathroom is next to mine." 

"did you change rooms?" 

"what?" 

"when your ex moved out. why take the smaller one?" 

"oh," you rub a finger against the wall, rubbing dust off of it. "it was his room before we got together. and then we shared my current room. this was his man... den?" you try, shaking your head. "gaming room? slaughterhouse?" 

gojo snorts. 

"what?" 

"oh, nothing," he says, airy like he's teasing you. "just curious."

you step back so he can walk around, check the carpets for stains, or look for drywall you could've hidden a body behind. but he doesn't, only watches you as you furrow your brows. 

"you're not going to look around?" 

"it looks like the pictures." 

"yeah, but what if there are, like, bugs in the carpet? blood on the walls?" 

"are there bugs in the carpet?" he asks. "blood on the walls?" 

"not that i know of..." 

"great, then it's perfect," he says, and steps out of the room again, whistling as he goes. 

this time, you follow him, like he's the one giving the tour. 

he pauses at the door a couple of feet down. "this your room?" 

"yes." 

"can i see?" 

you scowl. "no. what do you mean 'it's perfect?'"

"i mean, i'd like to live here. it's nice. besides the frog." 

you lean against the wall, trying to inspect him for any mechanical parts. is this a ploy? some joke? "you've barely been here five minutes." 

"twenty with all the time i waited outside..." 

"you can't just take one look and say 'yup, this is good.'" 

"can't you?" he asks, challenging. 

"no." 

gojo's grin seems to widen, impossibly. "well, i'm not picky." 

and somehow you doubt that. 

but you don't get the chance to tell him that, or anything else, because he leans against the wall, still smiling at you, and asks, "so, are we roommates now?" 

"you haven't even seen the lease. or heard about the house rules." 

"house rules?" he repeats, dubiously. like you're making this up (which you are). 

"yes." 

"such as?" 

"no..." you pause, 'cause this is a fickle argument. something about his stupid smile makes you want to argue with him. or maybe it's the hair. or the sunglasses. "murdering anyone in the apartment." 

he laughs, unexpectedly, and sighs. "well, i guess i'll take my murdering someplace else." 

"and... you can't leave any utensils in the sink." 

"okay." 

"and i'm not cleaning up any beard shavings, or sharing my tampons with you, or any people you have over." 

"these are very extensive," he says, unserious. "anything else?" 

"i..." your brows furrow. "no hogging the bathroom. hot water is fickle. and you have to recycle." 

"it might be challenging, but we'll figure it out." 

"these are not negotiable." 

he only continues to smile at you. 

eventually, after staring back with a frown that feels slightly permanent for more than a minute, you sigh again. at least you won't have to worry about moving out. 

"fine. you still want to live here?" 

"mmhmm." 

"okay," and you stick your hand out for him to shake like this is a business transaction. 

and it seems that you'll be seeing a lot more of that grin in the future. 

*

living with satoru gojo is not... well, it's not hard. he's a normal enough roommate. 

he pays his rent on time and doesn't touch the coffee you make in the morning most days--coughing when he does. he man spreads on the couch and watches movies way too loud and doesn't hang his bag up at the door, preferring to, instead, set it on the counter like a maniac. he whistles when he walks, and wears his stupid sunglasses 80% of the time, and grins at you when you're irritated, and, honestly, he's not really half bad. 

he doesn't leave any huge messes for you to clean up (mostly because he doesn't use the kitchen or the dining table ever). he doesn't invite people over that keep you up all night (because he's gone most nights). and, actually, he keeps the bathroom quite clean (even if he takes up well more than half of the shower space with his weird face creams and deep conditioning treatments). 

but satoru gojo is hard. 

it's not what he does, but rather who he is. with his infuriating good looks--taking up most of the fair share for the rest of the population--and his subtle charm, which, if you didn't know who he was, might actually work on you, and his morning voice and his messy hair and just the way he lives. 

like breathing is just what he's supposed to be doing. like he doesn't need to worry about a thing because nothing should matter if he decides he doesn't want it to. 

so easygoing and naturally intuitive and far too exhausting for you. 

because, as a fatal flaw of your own, you love to mess with him. somedays you'll hope he shows up just so you have someone to fight with. just so you'll be irritated instead of stressed, frustrated instead of exhausted. 

it's kind of addicting, in a way. and masochistic, but you've never claimed to be completely sane. 

and honestly, gojo's just asking for it. 

after a mere month of living with his aura around, you come to expect his cockiness. you live to take him down a notch.

so when he's up this early in the morning, whistling like it's his god-given right, you scowl at him just as he enters the room. 

"woah," he says, sliding on a bar stool in front of you. "starting early this morning?" 

"you're banned from talking to me until noon." 

"is this about the ice cream i ate? cause there was only a little left..." 

"no it's--" you pause, frowning at him. "you ate my ice cream?" 

he lays his entire torso on the counter, pathetically. "i was dying, okay? low blood sugar was going to kill me, and i couldn't see anything else but that ice cream and it wasn't even very good anyway, so, really, i was saving you from having to endure the rest of it." 

"you ate my ice cream?" you repeat. 

"i'll buy you more. a better kind. and then you'll understand that i was doing you a favor." 

"i might kill you." 

"i thought we banned homicide from the apartment." 

"i was going to eat that," you whine, shoving his hands away from trying to grab your mug. 

he smiles, too bright for so early in the morning. "yesterday you told me sweets weren't an appropriate breakfast." 

you scoff. "yeah, cause that's all you eat. you need a green smoothie or something in the morning just to keep your heart beating for the rest of the day."

"my heart beats very well, thank you. wanna feel?" 

you roll your eyes and sigh into your mug. "i'll be expecting three pints of ice cream as an apology later tonight." 

gojo has already moved on, typing away on his phone, probably to some groupies he manipulated into loving him. "i can't. it's flip night at laurent's tonight, and suguru has already threatened me into coming." 

"why did you say laurent's like i'm supposed to know what you mean?" 

"laurent's," he repeats, looking at you.

you blink. 

"the bar?" he questions, like you're crazy. 

"okay, sorry, i don't exclusively hang out at bars filled with frat boys." 

"it's very sophisticated,” he corrects, his frat boy nature very obvious. “i mean, i frequent there." 

you laugh. 

"clearly you've never been." 

"i'm still expecting ice cream." 

he sits back in his chair. "i have class all day." 

"like you've never skipped a class." 

"encouraging ditching?" he asks, mock appalled. "what kind of roommate are you?" 

"the kind that doesn't steal her roommate's food. just get one of your servants to pick it up.”

gojo waves a hand at you, and that statement, apparently. and then he types another thing into his phone—to said servants you assume—and grins again. his face must’ve missed the feeling. "how about i buy you a drink instead? you can come with me tonight. meet my friends. maybe make some of your own." 

"haha," you cross your arms. "if they're as bad as you, then i'm good." 

"you'd probably love them. they also like to torment me, even though i'm pretty and perfectly nice to them." 

"i seriously doubt that." 

his eyes--oh, yes, this early in the morning he skips the sunglasses--sparkle like gems. "i have to play wingman for suguru, but it probably won't take long. you can mingle. meet someone. i think you could use a way to relieve some of that stress." 

"oh, you mean the stress that you cause?" 

gojo grins and you realize that you've fallen into his trap. "i'm willing to help out whenever you like," he says, deviously, "you just haven't asked yet, sweetheart." 

"nor ever will," you grind out.

gojo hums and taps his fingers against the countertop. the two of you stare at each other, grin matching scowl, and eventually, he loses the contest. "so, can i plan to steal you away from eternal solitude at six?" he asks.

and just because he's right--in his weird, satoru gojo way--you nod. it might be nice to get out of the house; and meet people other than the lost freshman at work. and because you know that gojo will continue to bother you about it otherwise. he’s a very difficult person.

as if proving it, he grins all pleased with himself, so you add, "but you're buying all of my drinks." before he can get too ahead of himself. 

*

it's not nearly loud enough in this bar. as soon as you walk in, you're sure of it. 

because even with a band up on the stage, singing about loving someone or money or drugs, you can still hear gojo as he flirts with every single living thing in his twenty-foot vicinity. 

he's got his grin on, styled his hair all fancy, and his clothes are signature in the way that you've probably seen him wear the same thing fifty times. maybe in a row. 

but the people in this bar don't care. no, they flirt back like they already know who satoru gojo is. and maybe they do. 

you don't really care, but you do have to drag him along so he can show you where you're supposed to sit and tell you the names of his friends before you get drunk enough to forget. 

it takes three minutes of trailing after gojo like a lost puppy to remember that you hate going out. that you hate everything about your so-called roommate and you should've shoved his invitation down the drain along with him. 

as if gojo can hear this thought, he peeks over his shoulder, smirking at you. "enjoying the view?" he asks, and you try to trip him by stepping on his heel. 

unfortunately, he only swings around, walking backward through the crowd like it's going to part for him. 

oh, wait. it does. 

you frown at him. 

"what? you don't like the music?" he pouts because that would personally offend him, of course. 

"where are we going? i think we've passed that table four times already." 

"i have to say hi," he says like this is obvious. "it's rude to just walk into some place without greeting everyone." 

"do you own this bar?" 

"what? no." 

"then find your friends so we can sit down," you grumble, trying not to lose him in the sea of people. it's unlikely that you've ever seen a bar this packed. more like a club, honestly, but you wouldn't put it past gojo to lie. 

eventually, he does lead you to a table, announcing, with a flourish. "don't worry, everyone, i'm here," while he bows--because of course he does. "and," he adds, "i brought a stowaway." 

you peek around his shoulder to meet three people, all staring at him with the same unamused expression. one, suguru--from the many photo albums and 'trips down memory lane' gojo has bombarded you with--gives you a little wave. the other two just continue to stare at gojo. 

"everyone, this is y/n, my favorite roommate. y/n, that one is suguru," he says, pointing towards him, "which you already know. the short one is shoko, and the blonde one is--" 

"nanami," you cut in, "hey." 

gojo frowns, looking between the two of you. "you know each other?" 

"we have analytics together," you answer, sliding in to sit across them, next to gojo, naturally. "i usually cheat off of his notes." 

"she gets me coffee," nanami adds, like this information is imperative. 

gojo grins again. "why didn't you say anything nanamin?" 

"because i didn't realize." 

"who else could i have been talking about? do you know several pretty girls named y/n? you a player?" 

nanami has a very familiar frown on his face, and is about to say something when suguru seems to kick gojo under the table. "satoru, i told you to stop referring to other people as 'players.'"

gojo merely rolls his eyes. "can't fight the truth," he says.

you almost smile. almost. but your eyes drift over to shoko, who sighs. "how'd you get stuck with this one?" she asks, not harsh, but not quite soft. 

"he promised me alcohol." 

she nods knowingly. 

speaking of, you turn towards him. "you and i both know there's only one reason i'm here." 

gojo flicks your forehead, but stands up. "i'll be right back," he says, "don't miss me too much." 

and you all watch as he walks away, conveniently stopping at least four times to talk to several different people. 

you groan. "he's not coming back is he?" 

"he will," suguru says, not quite reassuringly. "probably. in an hour or so." 

you cover your eyes with your hands and listen as the three of them laugh at you. 

*

it probably is an hour or two later that you see gojo again. 

you'd fallen into smooth conversation with his friends, talking about classes, and dancing, and the fact that you all shared a common enemy. it was easy enough, talking to them, like ripples in a pond. but surely if gojo had stuck around, it would've been more of a tsunami. you could see the appeal--at least for someone like your roommate. they all seemed responsible enough. 

but shoko, after a twenty-second lull in conversation, decided she was better off drinking at home, and nanami quickly agreed. watching them, compared to gojo, disappear into the crowd was a different experience. 

you bite your cheek unnervingly, wondering if it made you a bad roommate to want to let gojo suffer here alone and walk home by himself. 

suguru pats you on the shoulder when he stands up a moment later, brushing his pants. "i'll go find satoru," he says, softly. you feel that same irritation when you realize that gojo had probably lied to you about coming here for suguru. it was almost infinitely more times likely that suguru had come here for him. "do you want me to tell him you went home?" 

"how likely is it that he'll go home with someone else and it won't matter if i wait for him anyway?" 

the dark-haired man considers this with a sly grin on his face. "if i tell him you left, he'll find someone to cling to. but if you're here he'll go home with you. probably drunk, though." 

you run a hand through your hair, waving him off. "it's fine. i'll wait, then. but tell him that the homicide clause doesn't apply to outside the apartment." 

suguru laughs, not questioning this, and walks away. 

you sit there, toying with a glass someone had left behind, watching the people around you dance like it really was a club. with absolutely no one watching. not even god, evidently.

as usual, gojo lied--even though you hadn't really believed him when he said this place was sophisticated. the clear air of stale beer and vomit is enough to prove that.

you almost laugh bitterly, but then a mop of white hair appears in the chair next to you, and his grin is wider, larger than you'd remembered. 

how long had that taken? 

"hello hello, roomie," he sings, leaning close to you. he moves his chair, shuffling across the floor so that he's near enough to touch. "i heard you were threatening me again." 

"you could hear that over the sighs of your fan club?" 

gojo giggles, like he's in on the joke. his breath falls on your face. "i like it when you tell me you're going to murder me, you know." 

"of course you do. how much did you drink?" 

"it's not the quantity," he whispers, "it's the quality." 

"your friends told me you could get drunk off of hand sanitizer." 

gojo leans back, his long legs knocking against yours. "are they spreading those rumors again?"

you kick his foot away from yours but don't say anything. his eyes seem somehow wider right now, even behind his dark shades. almost like you could see them. 

you blink, and gojo does it back. his lashes fluttering just enough to tell.

it almost makes you smile. laugh a little bit at his innocence--especially right now, when he's clearly not himself--some more unperturbed version of who he normally is (if that's even possible). he probably wouldn't even remember if you did laugh at him. but you refrain anyway. 

gojo gasps suddenly. "oh! let's go to the store. you want ice cream, right?" his elbow slides onto the table as he rests his chin on a hand. 

you kick his foot again. "i wanted a drink," you correct, "but apparently you got distracted." 

"'s not my fault," he almost slurs, sadly. 

"are you ready to go home?" 

"i'm ready to leave. so we can get your ice cream. want to share a spoon?" his grin is unabashed. you could tell him that he is a vile, disgusting creature right now and he would probably agree. 

you don't, for whatever reason. 

"i don't think anywhere's open, and i don't want to drag you around while you're this drunk." 

he taps your thigh with a finger. "hey. i'll have you know that i am a very proficient walker." 

"oh, really?" 

"learned when i was a kid and everything." 

"wow, gojo, i'm very impressed," you deadpan, and look around. "do you need to say goodbye to suguru?" 

he frowns. then points to himself. "gojo," he repeats, and into the crowd, "suguru." 

like he's an actual toddler.

you shake your head and stand up, still looking. "can you text him?" 

"i guess," he mumbles, getting out his phone and almost dropping it. he frowns like this is deeply upsetting. 

so you grab it from him. "what's your passcode?" 

"one one one one." you look at him with a brow raised. "cause i'm number one," he answers, pridefully. 

you scoff, but look through his texts anyway, and tell suguru that you're taking him home--and never ever coming out with him again--and then hand it back to gojo. 

he smiles at you. you roll your eyes. 

then he grabs your hand, and begins to pull. "c'mon before they find us," he says, and it doesn't make any sense. 

but were you really expecting it to? 

*

perhaps the aftermath of drunk gojo is even more entertaining than the actual thing. 

shoko hadn't been kidding when she said he was the worst drunk--and even worse when hungover. 

how do you know this? oh, because you woke up at one in the afternoon--perfectly respectable for a saturday--and as soon as you dared to even open your door gojo was already groaning about the noise. so you slam it a little as you leave. 

there's a grunt, like a dying cat, and two minutes later he is walking into the kitchen with slits for eyes and cotton for hair. you're not sure what he's wearing--some video game shirt--but it's wrinkled enough to match your roommate's appearance. disheveled and slightly peeved, he's almost glaring at you--like he's capable of such a thing.

you try not to laugh. 

"where's the bacon?" he asks, almost slipping off of the counter as he leans on it. his hands rubbing at his eyes. 

"sorry?" 

"wheres the bacon?" he repeats, his voice a different register this morning. "i need emergency bacon." 

"so make some. there's a pan and probably a package in the fridge." 

he whines, falling against the counter again. his natural habitat. "i can't make it, i'm dying. you really want your terminally ill roommate to cook for himself?" 

"i want my overdramatic roommate to act like an adult for a change." 

he blows a raspberry, and his face is hidden beneath the tile of your table. you can only see his hair, which looks surprisingly soft for his state. 

"did you lose some pigment in your hair?" 

gojo snaps up, immediately, gasping. he pulls a strand so he can look at it, blinking rapidly. his panic quickly fades, and he blows the strand out of his eyes. "it's just dirty." 

"from what?" 

"i forgot to buy new bedsheets," he grumbles, once again hiding his face. 

"your bedsheets are dying your hair?" you ask, with a raised brow. 

"they're dirty," he repeats, rolling his eyes as he sits up. "i need to go to the store." 

"um..." you look at him as he slumps against his own body, feeling greatly concerned for his survival abilities. "you buy new bedsheets?" you confirm, "instead of washing them?" 

he waves a hand, blowing you, and your clearly audaious sentence away. "bacon," he says, flatly. 

you roll your eyes. "pan," you point, "stove." 

gojo looks like he might start crying.

and it might be his state or the fact that you don't think you've ever seen him like this--in the month you've known him--all lost and confused and a little bit ruffled at the edges. gojo's snark is usually in its top form when you see him in the morning. 

so, just this once, you grab a pan, and turn on the burner. 

"i'll be expecting payment for my time," you say, as you grab the bacon from the fridge. 

and maybe you get your first real smile from your roommate. 

*

you're lying on the couch reading a book when he appears, swarming like a fly. 

"hello, roommate," he says, uncharacteristically pleasant, and then he sits on your legs. you try to kick him, but it proves futile because apparently he's a giant, so you wiggle your way out from under him and sit up, frowning. 

"don't you have a room?" you ask. 

"i could ask you the same thing," gojo tries to tickle your feet, but you move them away before he can. your frown turns into more of a glare. "what?" he asks, "we can't hang out?" 

"no." 

gojo pouts. "but we're roommates," he says as if it's an explanation. like being roommates binds your souls and forever intertwines the two of you. 

"we are roommates because i had an extra room and you had money. that doesn't seem like thrilling grounds for friendship." 

"well, how about the fact that i let you use my hair dryer the other day?" he lays down on the other side of the couch, smirking at you. "that's a friendly thing to do." 

"that's the polite thing to do. i'm trying to train you. speaking of which..." you point towards the floor, "down boy." 

he takes off his sunglasses, throwing them on the coffee table--which probably explains the broken mug pieces you found in the trash the other day--and lays back with his arms behind his head. his eyes are closed. "i can't be trained." 

"clearly." 

you sigh and relax in your corner of the couch, picking up your book again. his presence lurks like a nightmare, but, you figure, eventually, he'll get bored. 

you just can't entertain him. it's like the advice you'd give to a kid being bullied: they only care about your reaction... 

as if proving your point, after twenty-seven seconds of silence, he opens one eye, peeking at you. "whatcha reading?" 

"a book." 

he plucks it right out of your hands, inspecting the cover. how he got across the couch in 0.2 seconds, you don't know. 

"what is this?" he asks, snickering a little. "word porn?" 

you take it back. "it's called romance, gojo. not that i'd expect you to be familiar with anything of the sort." 

he smirks, laying back down. "i have references if you need proof." 

you shake your head, flipping him off, and continue to scan the words on your page without retaining any information. 

seriously, his presence is impending doom itself. 

"it's okay," he whispers, "you don't need to be embarrassed. everyone craves intimacy." 

"i crave my fist on your face." 

he snorts. "that's not very friendly." 

you sigh, dropping the book again so you can look at him and his obnoxious eyes. "look, i'm tired, it's been a long week, and if you don't leave me alone i'll probably lock you outside." 

"probably?" 

"it's that or throwing you out the window." 

gojo laughs once again, but mimes zipping his mouth shut. you roll your eyes and open your book again. your feet are entwined, but you don't mock this--if only because you're sure that gojo will start an argument about it.

the quiet lasts for two minutes and then he turns on the tv. 

you groan and he laughs at you.

*

you're getting used to having him around, at least. and in turn, his friends. because they seem to be a package deal. 

after that night at the bar, gojo--apparently--feels much more comfortable having them over. trying to bake cookies with shoko or interrupting what's supposed to be a study session between the four of them. 

at least, you think, watching this happen, that you're not the only person forced to endure him. 

but it's kind of... nice to see him act like a normal person, for once. to get teased by someone other than you and pout like a begrudged younger brother. the person who invites his friends over for game night (getting aggressively angry every time he loses) isn't satoru gojo, the man whom everyone is drawn to. he isn't some drunk guy charming everyone around him or a roommate that you just happened upon. 

he's just another college student, laughing along with people who aren't nearly as bad as him. 

and, naturally, you find yourself intertwined with these 'hang-outs' because the apartment is small, and you don't want to be left out--no, you choose not to think about how pathetic it is that satoru gojo has more friends than you do, so please don't bring it up. 

and it's on this night when you're not playing uno with the four of them, but rather, watching behind all of their backs and trying to mess with gojo as much as possible. 

you pretend to be idly cleaning in the kitchen, when really you're standing behind him, mouthing to suguru what color he has whenever he's about to win. 

"hmm," the sly-mouthed man says this time, "green." 

shoko puts down a seven, and gojo groans again. "seriously?" he asks, but begins drawing cards. 

you try--and fail--not to giggle behind him. to which, of course, he turns around with an obvious glare in his eyes. "what are you doing?" 

the sink isn't on, and there are no dishes to be seen in the kitchen. nonetheless, you point uselessly to the roll of paper towels on the counter. "cleaning." 

"you're cleaning air?" 

"sorry, i didn't realize i was banned from loitering in my own home." 

he turns back around, looking at suguru for a moment, then back at you. it's very hard to keep the smile off of your face, especially when nanami looks like he's about to break and shoko is pretending to rifle through her cards again. 

how many times have you done this to him? oh, just a mere eight. 

to be fair, it would've ended a long time ago if gojo wasn't such a sore loser. 

he looks back and forth once more. then he frowns. "what are you doing?" 

"do you want me to go hide in my room, gojo?" you ask, trying to scowl. "because i will. i was just trying to be hospitable--" 

"nanamin," he interrupts. "go." 

so another round of cards is placed, and this time suguru plays normally, keeping his face straight to not draw any suspicion. you lean against the wall, enjoying yourself. 

(don't tell anyone, but this is the most fun you've had in a while). 

and then, after a couple of rounds go by, you finally clear your throat. gojo turns to glare at you through his sunglasses and says "go stand behind suguru if you're going to watch. i don't trust you." 

you raise your brows but do as he says. 

and when shoko has to draw the next time, you smile and tap a couple of times on your thigh. 

suguru does his best impression of gojo's grin, and says, "draw four," to shoko. 

she smiles back. turns to gojo. "draw four," she repeats. 

and he stares at the two of them, then the cards stacked on top of each other, and then to you, right across him. "what are you doing? i know you're doing something." 

"satoru, she's just watching--" 

"no, she's smiling." he looks back to you, "you're smiling. you don't do that unless i'm in pain." 

"so you just assume that you're losing cause i'm... what? drawing your cards for you? shuffling the stack so only you get the bad hands?" you cock a brow at him, willing yourself not to look at anyone else at the table. it would only end in disaster. 

"i--" gojo runs a hand through his hair. then he sighs and begins drawing his eight cards. 

and several rounds later--with gojo losing once again--you've begun moving around the table like you're inspecting each player. gojo doesn't let you look at his cards though. 

and it takes a while before he notices anything. particularly after suguru wins for the third time in a row. 

he looks at everyone--brows pulled together, irritated eyes hiding behind his sunglasses, and his cheeks are flushed from how frustrated he is--and as soon as you start laughing at his face, everyone else does too. suguru throws his cards down and shakes his head. nanami shuffles the deck while trying to keep his laugh muffled--but it's there. and shoko is outwardly laughing at him, pointing at gojo and then at you. 

"are you guys stealing the cards?" he asks, almost disbelieving, his voice so childlike that you start laughing even harder. "look at the deck! it's half the size that it was." 

and then he's standing up and inspecting you, sticking his hands up your sleeves and finding dozens of cards hiding there, falling onto the floor. 

gojo gasps in outrage, but it doesn't even matter to you. 

everyone else is clutching their stomachs and gojo begins to pout. "you're all traitors," he's saying, and "how long have you been doing that?" and you almost can't breathe-- 

so yeah. you don't really mind these kinds of nights. and you don't complain about the messes gojo and his friends leave behind. 

*

you shouldn't have given suguru your number. this much is obvious. 

but, to be fair, you weren't exactly thinking when you were talking to him about a self-help book you'd picked up, and he was mentioning a podcast, and then he was taking your phone and putting himself in it--which, in itself, should not be dangerous--telling you that he'd send you a link and that you should let him know if you liked it, and that was that. 

and really, there shouldn't be any repercussions to this. suguru is your sort of friend, and sort of friends can text on occasion. 

except for the fact that he's also satoru gojo's friend. so when you wake up at ten--silently thanking yourself for taking a day off before a week of back-to-back classes and work--he's already texted you, and it's obvious that you failed somewhere in life. 

maybe when you accidentally invited a demon into your house and allowed him to stay. 

from suguru :p : 

hey satoru is supposed to be in class right now and he won't answer me 

can you please kick him awake? 

but maybe it wasn't a mistake. because at least you have a good excuse to give gojo a bruise. 

so you creep down the hall, reluctantly knocking on his door even though it ruins the element of surprise (you're not a monster) and listening as there's no response. 

gojo must be asleep. or dead. honestly, you might've killed him in your sleep--wouldn't be the first time. 

so you peek the door open, realizing now that you haven't been in his room since he moved in, and watch as a figure slithers under the covers almost before you notice. gojo is completely covered except for the foot he's left hanging off of the side of the bed. 

"get up," you tell him, looking around at the sparse decorations he's put up. there are books, candy wrappers, and socks all over the floor, but it's not the messiest room you've ever seen. which is slightly surprising, considering all that you know about gojo. 

he whines from under the cover, turning so you get a view of exposed skin on his back. "sleeping," he says as if you might believe him. 

so you creep over trash and textbooks and pull the blanket right off of him. 

gojo is already looking at you, pouting. his hair is in his eyes and his mouth is puffy--probably from kissing his pillow in his sleep. "what if i was naked under here?" he asks you, very seriously. "i don't let just anyone see that, you know?" 

"you're wearing the same silk pajamas you wear every night." 

he tries to pull the blanket away from you, his fingers peeling yours away. he huffs. "it's the principle. you don't just wake a man up from slumber." 

you snort. "did you travel a century in your sleep?" 

"yes, now go away." and then he falls back into the blankets, his words muffled. 

"you have class, your highness. i've been sent to fetch you." 

one eye appears from under the blanket. "how do you know my schedule?" 

"telepathy. now get up." 

"i can't," gojo fake coughs. "i'm sick." 

"suguru said you'd say that." 

he groans, turning over and muffling a few explicit words that sound like a curse upon his best friend. 

you poke his back. "did you sleep through your alarm?" 

he doesn't answer. his body has gone limp like you might not notice that he's there if he stays still for long enough. so you pull his hair, turning his head towards you. "you're not usually this whiny in the morning," you tell him. 

"why are you so mean to me?" 

you hum, pretending to consider it. "i think it's the hair. i find it pretentious." 

"i could sue you. discrimination is very serious. i've got a good lawyer, too."

"i'll sue back for mental damages." 

he laughs, and wiggles from your grasp. 

you sigh and finally sit down at the edge of his bed, observing the lollipops he's left lying on his bedside table. gojo's bones seem to crack as he sits up with you, moaning the whole way. 

you're silently observing him--with his slightly red eyes and heinous mouth. you're not used to seeing him like this in the morning; usually, he's chipper and annoying. when he walks into the kitchen in the morning you half expect him to start singing. 

but this gojo is tired. he rubs at his eyes. "did suguru text you?" 

"yup." 

"he's a terrible friend." 

you nudge him, almost like an agreement. "why aren't you in class?" 

"what's even the point of going? it's not like i get a reward."

"i think the reward is graduating, but you might have to fact-check that one." 

he nudges you back and then takes your hand. his fingertips are soft as they trace the tendons and veins he can see on your skin. his hands are softer than you'd have expected. his eyes are wary as they look towards the floor, his mouth twisting in displeasure. but he doesn't stop touching you, he does so idly that you almost don't notice. "i have an a in the class," he tells you, "and i already know most of the material so why would i go to every lecture?" 

maybe it's the way he says it; so sure and nonchalant, in his typical over-dramatic fashion. maybe it's just that he's never mentioned any of his classes to you, or the fact that he's taking any. maybe he's just crazy--that's the most likely option--but you're suddenly curious. 

"what class is it?" 

"theoretical physics." 

you whistle, shaking your head. "and you already know most of it?" 

gojo drops your hand and looks at you. his eyes are wide. maybe he's just realized that he's been talking to you this whole time. "when i was a kid my, uh, my dad had a bunch of textbooks in his office that i used to read through every time i got in trouble," he grins, "which was a lot." 

"i can imagine." 

"well, it turns out you can only read something so many times before it becomes ingrained in your brain." 

you pull at his bedsheet. "do you have a test today, or something?" 

"no, suguru just thinks i'm lazy." 

you laugh, because he is. gojo rolls his eyes at you so you don't say it. you're a little bit surprised, actually. you knew that gojo wasn't stupid (or at least, you might've known) but there's something about the proof of it. like you can't just read right through him. like maybe there's still more to learn about your roommate and maybe there always has been. 

or maybe you're just tired, and he's always had the strange ability to draw irrationality out of you. and also he's an idiot.

"i just..." he starts and his smile fades, but only a little bit. he keeps a layer on while he peels a layer off. "i mean, i like the class. math is cool. but i just don't feel like it today, you know?" 

and there's something about his voice as he says it. steady and true, as always, but softer. but compeltely honest. 

and you've heard him complain about a million things, like every time you and suguru talk about something he doesn't understand or when the door isn't unlocked when he gets home, or when you won't add his one shirt to your laundry. you've heard every whine and every groan come from his lips. 

but he's not complaining about this. just confiding. 

and there's such a drastic difference that it takes you a moment to respond. 

but you do eventually. "yeah, i know," you tell him and rest a hand on his thigh to squeeze. 

and the way that gojo looks at you after--like you might just be saying it to make him feel better--is perplexing. his eyes are blue and maybe you've just noticed this--just started to realize that you're actually sitting with him like a normal person. and that he actually looks grateful. 

you shake your head, willing yourself to look away, because maybe there is something sort of magnetic about your roommate. and it feels impossible to only have noticed this now. to realize how warm he is next to you, and how your muscles tense up when he shifts. gojo is looking at you, and it might be the first time.

so you stand up, flicking his chin. "i'll tell suguru that you're puking your guts up." 

"really?" 

"yup. but next time you sleep through a class i'm going to wake you up by pouring ice water on your face." 

he grins. "cruel." 

"and i'll record it." 

you step over candy wrappers and dirty socks as you leave his room, and as soon as the door is closed you sigh in relief. you're probably better off never opening that door again.

*

it's a ridiculously cold night when he shows up. 

you're sitting at the front desk in the library, pretending to study for a mid-term, and trying to smile at the fifth lost library card you've heard about tonight. you got this job at the beginning of the year, and it pays horribly. but at least you can sit around and study, most weekends it's quiet enough to take a nap, and no one tends to bother you when you're drooling all over the reception desk. 

most weekends, that is, because as soon as he walks in through the door--letting in air so brisk that it has the potential to kill you--it gets significantly louder. 

because satoru gojo is not affected by trivial things such as snow, or blizzards, or the fact that the library is supposed to close in less than ten minutes... 

still, you don't really notice him--a rare circumstance that you will question later that night--until he's right next to you, breathing in your ear. 

"slacking on the clock?" he asks, and just for a moment, you almost disembowel him with the pen you're holding in your hand. 

but then you grunt, used to this sort of intrusion from your roommate, and push his head away. "how did you find me?" you ask him, because, honestly, this job is just an escape from his neverending antics at your house (no, it doesn't matter that you got the job before you knew that such an annoying person could possibly exist). 

"i microchipped you in your sleep," gojo says, smoothly, sitting in the chair right next to yours, swiveling around. "i thought i told you about that?" 

you blatantly look at the clock and ignore him. "you know that the library closes in seven minutes?" 

"...and?" 

"so go torment someone else," you answer, standing up with a stack of fileable papers, "i'm busy until eight." 

"i'll help," gojo says, eager as always, and takes half of your stack. "where to?" 

it is from two months of experience that you know he will not leave you alone. even if you chew off his fingernails and keep them to make into necklaces, gojo will follow you around as long as you make it clear you don't want him to. 

so you walk towards the copying room, smiling at all of the sleep-deprived students you pass by and rolling your eyes when gojo does the same. 

"how did you even find the library?" 

gojo walks like he has absolutely no equilibrium; knocking into you every couple of steps, and then falling in the other direction. it must be a consequence of all of his strenuous leaning. 

so he bumps into you as he replies, "tracker," like it's obvious. 

you snort. "no, seriously. i didn't think you knew that libraries existed. aren't you allergic to reading?" 

"hey!" he tries to trip you. "i'll have you know that i am very studious. top of my class." 

"that's why you pay suguru to write your papers for you, right?" 

gojo makes a small noise in the back of his throat. "he doesn't write them," he grumbles. "well, not all of them." 

you snort and open a door for him to follow through.

"my study group meets here on wednesdays," gojo answers, finally. 

"you're a part of a study group?" 

"where do you think i go all of the time?" 

you briefly consider this, setting the papers down. "cemeteries to mourn all of the people you've annoyed to death, probably. or your girlfriend's house." you shrug.

gojo sets his stack on top of yours, diligently lining them up. "i don't do that every night," he drawls, rolling his eyes. and then he winks at you. "and i don't have a girlfriend. thanks for asking." 

you mess up his stack and turn away from him. "sorry, i meant girlfriends as in plural. girlfriends." 

"nope, again." 

gojo follows closely behind you as you begin to lock up all of the spare rooms, turning off lights and looking for any lost items. "commitment issues?" you ask, fake sympathy clouding your voice. 

"sweetheart, if you want me, then just say that. you don't need to pretend to worry about anyone else." his cockiness is infuriating, but you don't even bother to scold him for it. you turn towards him with sharp eyes.

"do i seem worried to you?" 

"no, but you're a bad actor," gojo hums, fingertips grazing along your skin as he inspects your face. "denial is serious. you might want to see a doctor." 

"you would know," you answer, glaring and pulling away from him. the two of you walk as people begin to trek out of the library, no longer held captive by the idea of studying. 

gojo is much too close, as usual, his sweater brushing against yours. 

"how'd you even know i was here?" you ask him, after a minute of silence. 

"please," he answers, grinning down at you. "i got a PI as soon as you gave me my key." 

you squint. "did you actually?" 

he laughs. "no. you told shoko, and shoko told me..." 

you nod, clearing the desk of your things, tossing your bag at gojo for him to carry. "so why are you here?" 

he clears his throat, unplugging the cord to your computer and wrapping it around his hand. "i was walking by, and i thought i'd see if you wanted to come with me for drinks after your shift."

"drinks?" you repeat, taking the cord from his hands. 

"flip night." 

you groan. "i am never participating in that again after what happened last time." 

"it wasn't that bad." 

"i had to drag you home and you almost threw up in my hair." 

gojo smiles. "consider yourself lucky." 

you push him out of the way and put your coat on. then you turn off the lights and push in all of the chairs, gojo not helping at all. "i didn't even get my drink," you remind him. 

"okay, so let me make it up to you."

and his voice is a bit different. still arrogant, naturally, still smiling and easy--but maybe he means it? maybe beneath his, frankly, soft exterior, he feels bad for getting drunk before you could? maybe he's not actually a complete monster? 

you laugh that thought away as soon as it comes.

you sigh. "are your friends going to be there?" 

"yes, our friends are. they suggested i invite you." 

you sigh--again, because the air is quite thin when gojo is around--and consider it. for just four seconds. but eventually, you shake your head. "i can't," you tell him, looping your arm around his so you can drag him out of the building. 

"why not?" 

"i'm tired, and i still need to study for a test on monday..." 

"do it in the morning." 

you give him a blank look. "i won't want to study if i'm hungover." 

"then don't study." 

you let go of his arm, shivering from the cold. gojo, of course, is not wearing a jacket, or even a little bit bothered by the air. "you're a terrible influence." 

he grins. "i get it from you." 

you shake your head, keeping the smile off of your face. "maybe some other time? when it's not freezing, and i don't have a big test?" 

gojo looks like he wants to argue with you some more--which he usually does--but eventually, his grin ebbs into something simple and he nods. "okay, but you have to come next time i ask." 

"no. what if i'm sick, or something?" you definitely would not put it past him to ask you as a method of torture. 

"that's what alcohol is for." he sticks out his hand, too big and too sly. 

but you relent, shaking with him, and rolling your eyes.

"okay, gojo. have fun. do not wake me up when you get home." 

and you turn to walk away, but his hand catches your wrist. "what are you doing?" he asks, brow furrowed. 

"...going home?" 

he lets go of you and flicks your forehead. "you're not walking back by yourself," he says, like it's a crime. "c'mon." 

and he falls into pace with you, even with his longer legs and fervent energy. 

"this is stupid--" you start to complain, but gojo reaches for the strap of your bag, sliding it off of your shoulder. he then slings it on his own, and pulls you in a bit closer by the hem of your jacket. 

he doesn't say anything, just shoves your hand in his pocket, and whistles as he walks you home. 

*

its a couple of weeks later when you're standing at the door again, trying not to open it more than necessary. 

but, really, how wide is too wide? will a half-opened door signal any longing? will he think that you want him back if you open it more than three inches to pass him his box of stuff that he'd left behind and take your key back? 

how do you navigate the trade-off of a frog statue that will probably haunt your dreams till the end of time? 

"key," you say, without any pleasantries, not bothering to even really look at him. 

even though he looks just the same, your ex. still the lying cheater you'd almost fallen in love with. 

is it wrong to miss his netflix password more than him? 

"thanks," he says, and you've probably been standing there with him for thirty seconds when a head appears on your shoulder. 

white hair gets in your eyes, and you try to push gojo away, but he's already intruded on this exchange and you know he's not going to leave. 

"go away," you tell him, not very softly. 

"hello," gojo holds his hand out over your shoulder, because, again, he is ridiculously tall. "i'm--" 

"key," you say again, swatting his hand away. 

your ex looks at your new roommate--with all of his charm and irritating sunglasses and perfectly shaped teeth--with obvious disdain. you want to push both of them out the door and live here by yourself forever, but unfortunately, living prices disagree. 

so you grab the key from his hand, give him a bland smile, and slam the door with gojo's fingers still in between. 

he pulls them back just in time, still almost on top of you, and smiles when you turn around with a scowl. "a friend of yours?" he asks, slyly. he's about as subtle as a third-grader.

"no." 

he messes with your hair idly, pretending to fix it. "i noticed an obvious absence where our dancing frog used to be." 

"i told you, that's not mine." 

"so you gave it away?" 

you cross your arms. he is far too close to you. "you told me it was hideous." 

"it was," he nods, vehemently, and you know his eyes are grinning at you behind those dark shades. "but now there's an empty spot on that shelf." 

"we can put your tongue there when i cut it out," you give him an innocent smile and walk past him to sit on the couch. your pocket burns with the key you put there, metal like an obvious stain on your skin. 

it's not that you care about him anymore, really. you don't, not even when you lay alone at night and think about him. it's more that... he doesn't think about you. he didn't, and he wouldn't have, even if you were still together. 

is it wrong to be wanted by someone whose opinion is worth about as much to you as a penny you could or could not pick up on the street? should you crave being cared about by someone as awful as him?

you want to throw his key in bleach. maybe take a dip yourself.

gojo follows you, throwing himself down on the couch, and brushing you as he does so. he is very used to this kind of proximity, and the annoyed look you give him. "so that was your ex?" 

"yes." 

there's a brief pause, and a nice person might leave it like that. might try to console you, tell you better off. but satoru gojo is not nice, and he probably never has been. "really?" he asks. then clicks his tongue. 

you interrupt whatever obnoxious statement is supposed to follow: "if you're about to say that there are a lot of more eligible bachelors, including yourself, then i'm going to say that you should probably make a zillow account." 

gojo pinches your thigh. "i would never say something like that." 

you look at him, just barely able to make out the shape of his eyes when he's this close. "you told me that last week when i was complaining about dating apps." 

"well, it was true then." 

you roll your eyes. 

"i wasn't going to say that anyway." 

you hum, relaxing into the hold his legs begin to have on yours. despite his abrupt and terrible personality, gojo is very warm. and he's already intruded into so much of your space--your home, your head--that it almost feels normal. 

with his thighs pushing against yours and his fingertips trailing up the back of your neck. 

you should slap him away, but you don't. 

the last person you cuddled with was the same man who gave you the greasy key in your pocket. 

you look at gojo with inquisitive eyes. "really? no bad pickup line? you were going to say something meaningful?" 

"would've blown your mind, but you interrupted..." he teases, and pulls on a strand of baby hair. 

"whatever will i do now?" 

his hand falls from your neck, and if you weren't as comfortable as you are currently, you might think about what he's doing. 

like the fact that you haven't even questioned this, or his following you around, or the fact that he knew you needed someone to pull you away from that door. 

you don't think about that, but maybe you should. 

still, his hand wraps around your shoulder, and you slump against him without question. 

"i was..." his voice is softer, calmer than you've maybe ever heard it. it should jolt you away from him. it should do anything but keep you planted on the couch right next to him. "i was just going to say that i'm glad he's an idiot." 

"getting turned on by my pain?" 

he laughs. "no, but, i mean, your pain my gain." 

you don't even notice it when he slips off his glasses, his fingers curling around your forearm. 

"where else would i find a roommate that threatens me with bodily harm?" he asks, right in your ear. 

it's true enough, you guess. and at least for a moment, you don't want to rip off his arms. 

and gojo mutters something that sounds like "stupid," but you aren't listening.

*

gojo has called in your agreement; that is the only reason you're sitting at the bar, watching him dance around with shoko--purposefully stepping on her toes--and sipping on some drink he ordered for you.

it's terribly sweet and reminds you of lotion but you drink it anyway. it's not like you bought it, and you're sure that gojo wont buy you anything else until finish it. plus it's giving you a light buzz, just enough to feel comfortable sitting there, and not like you want to run away.

it's not as busy as it was last time, the music slightly quieter, the air in the room less stiff. gojo seems less energized tonight--considering that he hasn't abandoned any of you to talk to the houseplant in the corner--even with the dancing. 

which he is terrible at. it's like watching an eight-month-old learn how to stand. or a man trying to impress absolutely no one. his limbs move like they aren't even attached to his body.

"is he drunk?" you're asking suguru and nanami--who have been sitting there longer than you have. "i didn't see him order anything." 

nanami laughs and suguru ruffles your hair. "that's satoru completely sober." 

"...are you sure?" 

"yeah, he doesn't usually drink. even that," he nods to your drink which you're sipping with a wince, "is too bitter for him." 

you raise a brow, watching shoko frown at him, and then nudge him away. "he drank last time i came, though?" 

suguru nods, looking away like he knows something you don't and nanami snorts.

"what?" 

"he was nervous last time," nanami answers. he's got less than a smile on, but it's better than the frowns you've observed sitting next to him in class. 

your brow furrows. "about what?" 

suguru is about to answer, nudging nanami not very subtly, when the very topic of conversation pops up, bumping into you as he squeezes himself in between you and suguru. his presence is an interruption in itself, but he's smiling like he always does, acting like he's been there the whole time. 

you might've pushed him away a week or two ago. now you just sigh and move a little so he can fit.

"did you miss me, sweetheart?" he asks you, leaning against suguru. "don't worry, i'll dance with you next."

"no, and i don't dance." 

gojo rolls his eyes. "everyone dances." 

you look pointedly between him and the group of people dancing in the middle of the room. an image of him almost tripping over shoko makes you smile. "well some people shouldn't." 

suguru laughs and gojo grins even wider at you--his hair is slightly sweaty and his eyes are peering at you over the glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. "let's test that theory," he says, taking a step back. his tone is nothing less than suggestive. and his fingers wiggle towards you, beckoning for you to follow.

there's a twinge in your stomach and you adjust in your seat, frowning at him. "i told you that i don't dance." 

"well, i do. and you owe me for last time." 

you balk. "owe you for what? making sure you didn't get murdered on the street?" 

gojo pouts, his face so unserious and completely genuine at the same time. "you made me dance all alone. you didn't even come watch." 

"you left me--" 

"just one dance?" he asks, leaning in towards you. his eyes are sparkling. "i'll get you another drink." 

"you'll get me that anyway." 

"i'll let you pick it this time." 

"that's usually expected, you know?" 

he ignores that, "c'mon," he pleads, "you know that you want to." 

"i don't know that, actually." 

and then someone coughs behind gojo and you realize that your friends have been listening to this entire interaction and that you'd completely forgotten they were there. how long has he been standing like that? just two inches away from your face? 

"just go, y/n," shoko says, "put the rest of us out of our misery. i've been listening to him whine all night." 

"hey--" gojo turns, his voice defensive. 

but you take another sip of your drink, sighing as you stand up. "fine," you tell him, rolling your eyes when he turns to you with a smile. "one dance, and you can't ask me for anything else tonight." 

his teeth are like rows of knives. sharp and inviting. "okay." 

he holds his hand out for you again, and you take it, feeling that strange pull in the pit of your stomach. 

it's probably just the alcohol, though. 

*

you don't know how long you've been dancing with gojo. 

it started with one dance where he didn't do anything except twirl you around and sway with you, like he'd accepted the fact that you weren't exactly light on your feet, singing along to the music in your ear, making snide remarks about where you'd placed your hands. moving them like pieces on a chess board.

his breath was hot on your ear. condensation on a glass. 

and then you'd gradually moved to letting him lead you, after who knows how many songs, following his steps and not apologizing when your foot slammed against his, or when you bumped shoulders with him, probably creating marks on your skin. 

and then his hands were on your hips, his chin resting against your shoulder, and it felt almost nice to be dancing with him. almost relaxing to forget momentarily about where you were and who you were with. it shouldn't surprise you that you're comfortable with him, but it does. there's no worry about the way you're looking at him or if anyone is watching the two of you--but then again, you might be slightly drunk. 

gojo hasn't commented on how long the two of you have been dancing, and evidently, you've let the alcohol sway you into staying for more than just another song. 

so now, with his lips on your ear, you're almost smiling into him. your heart is fast, and the adrenaline rush you're experiencing is a pleasant thing; if someone ripped out your heart right you wouldn't even notice.

"see?" gojo says, his voice just a murmur with all of the music swimming in your ears. "you're not so bad." 

it sounds like something else to you.

"you won't be saying that in the morning," you tell him, stepping on his toes, but he doesn't pull back or move too quickly. if you thought rationally about his movements you might notice that everything he's doing is slow; like you're an animal he's trying not to scare. 

"i'm used to it," he pulls back a little bit. "shoko does that too." 

"'cause you deserve it." 

he laughs and leans in, so you follow him. 

are you just swaying now? or is he leading you in something more complex? a dance you've never heard of, or a simple in and out? 

you don't know, and you really don't care. 

after a moment, you sigh. "i've never danced with anyone before," you whisper to him, almost like not saying the words at all. it might be a lie, you're not quite sure. 

your words are just thoughts now with no sort of intervention between your brain and your mouth. intoxication fills your lungs. 

"really?" 

"mhm," you hum, "no one's ever asked me." 

"i don't believe you," his voice might be teasing, or serious, or he might be barking at you.

you laugh anyway. gojo's hands are firm against your skin. he feels kind of hazy, like a dream. so you laugh again. 

"you okay?" 

"i think i might be a little drunk." 

he snorts, his breath short. "really? i didn't think you'd be a lightweight." 

"you're a lightweight." 

"yeah, but you already knew that. i only drink when we come here, anyway. nanami doesn't like having to drag me home." 

"you're heavy," you agree, looking up at him. you can see his eyelashes from under his glasses. you can see his tongue as he moves it, and the tip of his nose. you can almost feel it when he swallows.

"sorry," he teases. his face looks different under these lights. it looks different when you're looking at him this close. 

"you're kinda pretty," the words fall from your mouth as you think them, and you grin. "huh." 

it shouldn't be an odd realization, but it is. his skin is almost translucent, and his mouth is sinful. his eyes are wide and bright and satoru gojo could be a sculpture if he wasn't a man.

gojo looks down at you, his brows raised. "you just noticed?" 

"i don't look at you a lot." 

"oh, please," he shakes his head. "i've caught you staring." 

"i only stare when i'm worried that you're a robot planted by aliens or something. you say weird things." 

he laughs, and his hands squeeze your waist. he could stab you in the back right now and it wouldn't even matter. you're not even worried about it. he could flirt with you all night and you don't think you'd quite mind.

you giggle at the thought, heart beating fast with every breath that comes from him. 

"what?" 

"you're not a bad roommate, you know?" you ask him, but maybe you're asking yourself.

"i'm not?" 

"no. you're actually... kinda considerate. my old roommate--my ex--he never wanted to go anywhere with me. he wouldn't have asked me to dance." 

"why not?" 

"i think he thought i was stuck up. or embarassing. or not worth it," you breathe, almost airly, the words are true but they don't matter to you. not like this, pressed up against him. "i don't know." 

gojo's brow furrows. "how?" 

your brows furrow. "how what?" 

"how could he think you're not worth it?" he repeats, and you laugh back. because it's a joke.

"you'd have to ask him." 

"i don't think i'll ever be talking to him," he answers, voice rough. "it wouldn't be good for either of us. and i don't trust people with such terrible taste." 

you giggle at the thought of the frog sculpture, the disgusted look on gojo's face. you can almost see through him.

"you shouldn't," you answer, not even thinking.  

there's a moment where the room is quiet, everyone inhaling at the same time, and then exhaling. you feel like you fit here, somehow. like everything is moving at just the right place. this silence is a comforting feeling, the bubbles bursting in your stomach reiterating it. 

"hey," gojo says, interrupting that feeling. 

"what?" 

"you're a good roommate, too. you're not stuck up. or embarassing." 

"i'm not?" 

he smiles at you. "well, you're a little mean." 

you smile back. "only to you, satoru." 

his face drops, but you don't notice. you lean against his chest again, your eyes fluttering shut. if you were focused enough, you could feel his heartbeat. but you don't. and you don't watch as he swallows. as his voice falters, for only a single second.

but you do look at him when he says, "my friends like you." 

"they do?" 

he laughs, pushing his sunglasses back up on his face. "wasn't it obvious?" 

you shake your head. you're not sure how long you've been standing with him, or if it even matters. you're not even sure if you're still in the bar, or your bed, being covered with your blanket, tucked in by gentle hands. 

how long has it been now? 

"i like you too," gojo whispers, "just so you know." 

and you could be at home, with your roommate. you could be right next to him. it doesn't matter, because you only whisper, "good," and then it's all gone. 

*

when you wake up the next morning, gojo is already laughing at you. 

your headache is a curse. your mind is in shambles. and your body aches with the manipulation of only one person. 

you hate your roommate and his terrible taste in drinks and that he doesn't even say anything when you slump against the counter, not even bothering to make fun of you or complain about how terrible you are when you're drunk. 

he just smiles easily, ruffling your hair.  

and when he starts to cook some bacon in the pan, you don't say anything, but you go and stand next to him, letting him hold you up. 

there are no words. only the popping of oil in a pan. 

and that feeling, of course. because it wasn't the alcohol. 

*

so maybe satoru gojo is your friend. you will not admit this to anyone aloud, but you concede a little bit in your head, because it's a fragile place there, and you're a terrible liar. 

and so maybe you hang out with him sometimes. 

it's not just the game nights or study sessions anymore. you sit on the couch and play with your phone and he sits down next to you. he'll rub your feet, or massage your legs and you let him. 

only because he's kinda good at it, of course. 

and sometimes you'll turn on a movie and he'll appear out of nowhere, complaining about whatever you picked, but laying down nonetheless. and after several minutes he'll move closer to you, resting his head on your thigh. and you might play with his hair, but only because it's unreasonably soft. 

and some mornings when you wake up and make yourself breakfast, not even trying to be quiet, you'll make a little extra. but it's not for him, it's just a coincidence. 

and he stops by the library on his way home from suguru's, or some girl's house, and the two of you will walk home together, talking about class, or the weather, or whatever gojo wants. you let him do this, because it's usually dark outside, and you don't like walking home alone. 

and if he barges into your room sometimes--obviously not knocking--you only complain a little bit. and then you let him lay in your bed and mess with your things. 

but only because it's the easier option, of course. 

and you've missed the feeling of having someone near. and satoru gojo is easy to be around. 

*

"gojo," you gasp, as soon as the door opens in your face. and then you scowl. "don't you knock?" 

he pushes you so he can move past, raising a brow at you. "i live here." his hands are empty, and he's not wearing a coat again. just a weird button-up probably more expensive than your share of the rent. how he's survived over two decades, you're not sure. 

your brows furrow at him. "well, you could give some warning if you're going to kick open the door. what if you broke my nose?" 

"well, why were you standing right in front of the door when i kicked it?" gojo mimics, flicking you away, then looking down to your hands where your wallet and keys are piled up. "you going somewhere?" 

"to the store." 

"it's eleven." 

"why thank you for that update, gojo. i really appreciate it," and then you move beside him to open the door. 

but gojo grabs your hand, making sure to roll his eyes at you where you can see it, and pulls you away so he can step in front of the door. "what could you need from the store right now?" 

"i need stuff." 

he crosses his arms, uncharacteristically stern. "like what?" 

"stuff. girl stuff. you wouldn't get it." 

he gasps, mouth dropping. "oh no, did i steal too many of your tampons again?" 

"first of all, that's against the apartment rules, so you better hope not. second of all, please move," you glare at him. "i need to hurry." 

"you can't leave right now." 

"i believe there's such a thing as free will..." you try and push him away, but he doesn't budge. "and you're not the boss of me." 

"it's too late for you to walk to the store. go tomorrow." 

you cross your arms. "when have i ever listened to you?" you ask him, feeling that familiar irritation crawl up your skin. 

but then gojo is pulling your arms apart and resting them at your sides and saying "stop that," as a gentle chide. and that irritation molds. you push his hands away. 

you want to push his hands off of the edge of the earth just so that he'll never touch you again.

"seriously, gojo, i need to go. they close at midnight." 

"you can't walk to the store by yourself in the dark." 

"i can do whatever i want." 

"then i'm locking you in your room until tomorrow. you're grounded." 

you poke his shoulder. you can't decide if he's serious or not. his voice is always teasing, and you can't see enough of his eyes. and you can't trust a single thing he says. "when did you become so overbearing?" you ask him, trying not to grind your teeth. 

"when i realized how weak you are." 

"weak?" you balk at him. "i'm not weak. please retract that sentence before i accidentally punch you." 

"you can't even push me away from the door. i'll take my chances with your fists." 

"that's because you're irritating me," you tell him, as you try to do it again. "anger distracts me." 

he laughs at you, leaning even further against the door. 

"gojo," you whine, trying to pinch him away instead. "stop being an ass. just get out of the way." 

he holds a hand to his chest, offended. "i am showing concern about your safety," he claims, shaking his head at you. 

"you are ruining my mood." 

"oh, good." 

you scowl. "move. right now." 

"that was very intimidating," he grins at you, "but maybe try again." 

you groan and try to stab him with your key, which he pushes away, still smiling, still completely the worst. 

"i--" you sigh, "i don't like you very much." 

he snorts. 

then you pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. "please, gojo. i'll be back in fifteen minutes." 

"what is that?" 

you frown. "what?" 

"what's wrong with your face?" 

you throw your arms up, shaking your head. then you mutter another thing about hating him under your breath and finally turn away. you set your keys and your wallet on the counter, pouting as you sit down on the couch. 

gojo is there a moment later, laughing at you. "was that supposed to be convincing?" 

"don't talk to me. ever again." 

you shake your head, fed up with him and everything about this living situation. how are you locked in your apartment right now?

gojo tilts his head back, and then pauses for a moment.  

"then how am i supposed to ask if you want to come with me to the store?" he asks, nonchalantly. "i need some stuff." 

and you should be angry at him--you should probably break one of his fingers or cut his hair off in his sleep. you should tell him that you hate his company and that if he ever tells you what to do again-- 

but instead, you jump up from the couch, smiling at him. "let's go," you say, quickly, before you change your mind. 

and you don't get to see it when gojo smiles back at you, softly. 

*

"hey," he whispers, "you shouldn't sleep here." 

gojo is shaking your shoulder gently, his breath on your face, his voice soft--even in the haze of disrupted sleep. there's a warm feeling in your belly as he speaks to you, an unknowing smile on your face.

"hmm?" you answer, trying to remember who you are and why you're here. who he is.

"it's almost midnight. what are you doing on the couch?" gojo is helping you sit up. his hands are ridiculously warm, and you don't think about how nice they feel on the bare skin of your back. 

"gojo?" 

he laughs. "the one and only. c'mon, i'll tuck you in." 

"did you just get home?" you must still be sleeping, because his hands are so soft right now. and his voice is so quiet--like the creaking of an old house. 

"yeah. are you going to get up?" he's kneeling in front of you, and his face is bare. you almost want to laugh at how bright his hair is even in the dark. 

"where were you?" 

he shakes his head, smiling up at you, and moves from the floor. "c'mon, sit up," he beckons, trying to get you to move your head from its place. you wince. eventually, he gives up and your heart almost disappears when he picks you up, tapping your legs so that you'll wrap them around his waist. 

you do it, but only because you don't want to fall. 

"why are you so tall?" you complain as he carries you to your room, feeling much more awake when you're this high in the air. 

gojo snorts. "i'll take that as a thank you," he whispers in your ear and sets you on your bed. then he sits on the edge and takes your socks off, pulling the covers out from under you. his movements are slow as he covers every inch of skin he can see, his breath the only sound between the two of you. 

it's colder when his hands move, and he looks at you for a moment as if trying to make sure he's satisfied with his job. 

"are you going to make fun of me for this in the morning?" 

gojo grins, squeezing your leg as he stands up. "probably. but only a little." 

"okay," you yawn, blinking as he backs up towards the door. 

"night, sweetheart," he whispers to you, and then a flash of hair is all you see before your door is closed and you drift back to sleep. 

and in the morning you wake up and can't remember how you got in bed. gojo doesn't say a thing. 

*

satoru gojo can say so much without saying a single thing. 

when he burst into your room--surprising you because you hadn't realized he was home--throwing himself on your bed and mumbling something about hating his life, you didn't say a word. 

and he'd sat there for ten minutes while you typed out a paper on your laptop, glancing over to him every couple of minutes, slightly worried because he hadn't moved an inch. 

you've seen a lot of his moods recently. you've seen him excited about some movie you didn't understand, exhausted after a long day of classes, angry when suguru and you leave him out of a joke. but most of that, you assume, is just him being himself. every feeling he has is probably seven times larger than the average person's.

but now that he's groaning into your bed, you can tell, just from the way his body deflates, that there's something wrong. you could see it when he walked in the room, and felt it because he'd told you he was getting dinner with his parents tonight. 

but if you know one thing about him, it's that he won't talk about it if you ask. 

because after a couple of weeks of spending more and more time with him, you'd quickly realized that you didn't actually know much about his life. he doesn't tell any stories about his childhood, or high school years--minus the ones that he tried to suffocate suguru for letting slip. he doesn't mention his parents much, and when he does, it's nothing but the bare minimum. he mentions classes so offhandedly that you hadn't even known how extensive his studies were until suguru was teasing him about an award he'd gotten a couple of years ago. 

he could talk to you for hours on end, but he wouldn't say anything. 

so after realizing this, you'd resorted to asking suguru about it.

that night, gojo was asleep on the floor between your feet. his hand was under his head, and he was snoring loud enough for you to notice. you'd sat down to watch a movie with him after he'd claimed that you and suguru were losers for being tired at this hour and that he was the youngest of you all. 

suguru only smiled a little bit at your question.

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else," he'd said softly, into the warm air of your apartment. "even with me, and i've known him since we were kids. his family..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

you'd frowned. "what?" 

"he's always been too much for them, in a way. i mean, you know, he is too much most of the time. but he does all of it purposefully; the arrogance, the bravado. i don't know... i think he just wants to control whatever image everyone has of him. to the extent that his personality is based on pushing people away, just so he can figure out who's actually going to stick around." 

you'd watched him then, with his fluttering eyelashes--his sunglasses lying on the ground next to him--and his bright hair. the gentle movement of his lips as he dreamt. he was softer like this, less forceful, less of a burden, and more of a boy.

and beautiful, of course, but that's an offhanded thought you wouldn't acknowledge.

"so, he doesn't talk to you about--" the words felt wrong, and you almost felt guilty for talking about him like this, with his best friend. but still. "--important stuff?" 

"he talks to me about a lot of things. but, no, not really. i get a long-winded rant sometimes, but not often." 

"then how are you supposed to know anything about him?"

suguru smiled at you, looking between you and gojo like there was a secret he didn't want to tell. he sighed. "satoru doesn't really tell me any of the important stuff because we've known each other for so long. i understand how his family is because i've watched him deal with them. i can guess how he's feeling based on his expression. but for people he hasn't known as long, like you, getting to know him is like i-spy." 

suguru didn’t need to elaborate. you got it.

like trying to find little hints of him hidden between all of the mess. you'd snorted and agreed. 

and it feels even more true now, with him cowering in your blankets. but still, you say nothing. 

you get it, to a certain degree. vulnerability was one of the feelings you liked to push away; secrets were only supposed to be coveted by you. getting close to people was a dangerous thing, risky in its own way. 

but, thinking that gojo doesn't trust you--couldn't trust you... it's more irritating than it should be. and maybe that's just because you're arrogant, and think yourself to be trustworthy. or maybe it's because you trust him, in your own unique way, even with all of his too much and extremeness. 

you don't say that to him though, just like he doesn't say anything to you. 

"hey," you push him with a foot. "are you drooling on my comforter?" 

there's a moment of silence, then gojo rolls over. "not a lot." 

you roll your eyes at him and type another sentence--a collection of words that have nothing to do with the actual essay you're writing, naturally--waiting for him to say something else. 

and, predictably, he does. "why aren't you paying attention to me?" 

"i'm busy, gojo." 

"no, you're not." 

"i am doing homework." 

he looks up at you. his sunglasses are somewhere on your floor. "well, then you're definitely not busy," he grins. 

you swat away a hand that tries to steal your computer. 

"aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" you ask him, trying to seem like you don't care about the answer. 

he sighs again. "canceled." 

"why?" 

"my dad had a meeting or something." 

"oh." 

you let the silence wade for a minute or two, trying to be discreet when you watch his face for any signs of discontent. but gojo just has his eyes closed. his hands above his head. 

eventually, you nudge him again. "did you eat anything?" 

he shakes his head. 

"do you want me to make you something?" 

an eye opens. he turns over and rests his head on his hands, squinting at you. "are you being nice to me?" 

"not intentionally." 

he snorts, poking you, almost in awe. "you are." 

"i'm just trying to make sure you don't die, okay? who knows what you've eaten today." 

he crawls up your bed, sitting right next to you so he can rest his head on your shoulder. and you should push him off, but you don't. "it's okay. i'm not very hungry." 

"that's not what i asked." 

gojo laughs against you, his hair brushing against your neck. 

you shouldn't say anything more. you shouldn't even entertain him and his antics, and you shouldn't even care (but you do. for some, stupid, infuriating reason). 

so you look at him, and your voice is soft when you ask, "you okay?" to him, hoping that it doesn't seem too intrusive. wishing that you didn't actually care if he was or not.

gojo's eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you get that feeling again. 

that feeling in your stomach that makes you want to jump away from him. that makes your hands want to shake, and your voice fade. that feeling that you know--too well, too much--but can't get rid of. 

like an itch you're not really supposed to scratch. 

gojo swallows. "yeah," he answers, with no grin, no conceit. "i'm okay." 

and it shouldn't feel like a relief to hear, but it does. you nod, look away, and go back to your computer. back to your actual life, which shouldn't have any satoru gojo in it. 

but a minute later he adds: "i'd be better if you made me dinner, though." 

and you pull on his hair a little. you try to pretend like his smile doesn't fill you with butterflies. 

*

this shouldn't be happening. 

it's the only reasonable thought running through your brain at the moment. the only echo you can discern, the only words you can make out in the jumble of anxiety and horror running through your mind. 

he should not be this close. 

gojo had only picked you up from work once again, his easy smile meeting yours as soon as he walked through the door--you'd been waiting, wondering when he was going to show up. 

at seven-thirty he was there, letting in the cold air and sitting in the seat next to yours, complaining about the fact that you had a job that diverted your attention away from him while you rolled your eyes. 

he sat there for the half an hour remaining in your shift, distracting you. 

two months ago you would've kicked him out. would've called some make-believe security. 

but you just listened while he talked to you about space theories that didn't make any sense. 

and then he'd grabbed your bag for you, turning off the lights before you could, pushing in chairs while you organized the reception desk. 

and his hand grabbed yours before you thought to notice--swinging along while the two of you began the walk home. 

and halfway there, gojo stopped, looking up at something. "hey," he'd poked you. "look at the stars." 

you'd done it, begrudgingly, squinting. "i can count, like, three." 

"there's at least five." 

"why did you stop me to do this? it's cold." 

"because they look nice," he argues, looking down at you. "you have no eye for beauty." 

and, really, you might've agreed with him. you might've pushed him away from you and told him to hurry up and you might've not cared at all. 

but you could see his eyes, just a little bit, behind his sunglasses. and his smile was alabaster, and that feeling--that gasping for breath, trying to hold on to anything feeling--was there again. 

and it was poking you. like a push in some direction. like a laugh telling you that you were too afraid to do anything. 

you were looking at him. right at his face and the only thing you wanted to say was that he was wrong. 

he was wrong because at least you knew that he looked beautiful. 

but those words wouldn't leave your lips--that thought couldn't leave your head--so you were only staring at him. wishing that you'd never let him into your apartment and that he hadn't started becoming a person to you. 

it wasn't fair like this. 

"what?" he whispered, his smile dropping, like he could tell there was something wrong with you. like he knew you that well. 

if he'd kept on smiling, you wouldn't have done it. you wouldn't have pushed up on your toes and leaned into him, and you wouldn't have kissed him like you did. 

like you're doing. 

and it would've been fine because you never would've started this knowing that it would eventually have to stop. 

and even though it takes him less than a second to kiss you back--his lips molding to yours like an automatic reaction--you know that you shouldn't be doing this. 

that you can't be doing this. not with him. not like this. 

so when gojo's hands move to your waist, his breath even in your mouth, you push at his chest. and you want to run away. 

"i'm--" you swallow, trying not to taste him, the bubblegum flavor of him, and almost flinch away. "i'm sorry." 

gojo's mouth is frozen from where he stands two feet away. his hands are in the air like he doesn't know what to do with them. "you..." 

and you've never heard him speechless before. just the idea of it makes you blurt out whatever comes to mind. "i shouldn't have done that," you tell him, and, "i didn't mean to--i don't--" you shake your head. "sorry. i'm sorry. can we forget about this? can we get home because i'm really cold?" 

"you kissed me," gojo says, so simply. 

the words are another blow to your heart. you were hoping that he wouldn't have noticed. 

and wince and watch him, his face as it shifts, moving with each thought in his head. 

"gojo, i'm really--" 

"no," he interrupts, taking a step towards you. 

"what?" 

"that's not my name." 

you frown. "yes it is?" 

he shakes his head. "no, it's satoru. you've said it before, you know. you should keep saying it." 

"when have i said it?" you ask, momentarily blinded by how he demands this. who is he to demand anything? 

"when you were drunk." 

you scoff. "i'm not just going to call you by your first name cause you want me to," you tell him, "who do you think i am?" 

and then satoru laughs, shaking his head at you, his grin full-force on his face. "are you serious? you kissed me and now you don't want to call me by my first name?" 

you freeze. "i said i was sorry about that," you say, weakly. 

you feel like who you've always felt around him. not as easy, not as cool, never as smooth. you feel like a child caught doing something they're not supposed to. you want to run away from him, but he knows where you live. 

"you're sorry?" 

"i didn't mean to." 

he quirks a brow. "you didn't mean to?" 

"it was an accident?" 

he takes another step closer. "it was an accident?" 

"are you just going to keep repeating everything i say?" you ask, voice hard. this must be a dream. 

satoru shakes his head at you. "no, but i have a question." 

"...okay." 

"if i try to kiss you right now, are you going to try and murder me? i know that we're away from the apartment right now, but it would really ruin the mood." 

you stare at him. 

it must be answer enough because he steps forward and he kisses you again. but this time, it feels less mechanical. his lips are soft and smooth as they push against yours--and he pushes like he's demanding something from you. like he knows more about what you can give than you do. 

and he grins against you like he's doing everything exactly right. 

but when satoru pulls back, your eyes stay shut. you try and banish the feeling in your stomach from your body, but it doesn't respond to idle threats. 

"we shouldn't do this," you whisper to him. you don't open your eyes. you don't want to see his face and fall victim to another one of his schemes. 

"why not?" 

"the last time i kissed one of my roommates..." you imply, hoping that you don't have to tell him that you're scared. 

"oh, right," he brushes some hair from your face. he has not moved an inch away from you. "i forgot that you're experienced." 

"wasn't it obvious?" 

he laughs, and then nudges your cheek with a finger. "look at me." 

you shake your head. 

"c'mon, just a little." 

his voice is so soft. satoru is whispering like it's just for you. and you've never heard him like this and you don't think you want to see him. 

"please, sweetheart?" he asks, one last time, and you have to. if only to put yourself out of your own misery. "good. now listen--" 

"don't tell me what to do." 

he rolls his eyes. "listen," he repeats. "i know you don't like me very much. and i know that you only keep me around for my rent money and my pretty face--" 

you kinda want to hit him. 

"--but i've wanted to kiss you for weeks. and i'm not good at the..." he swallows, blinking just briefly. "all of the telling stuff, but i want to be. with you. for you." 

you're not sure if that's the end, or if it's the beginning. your eyes are stuck on his smile, and you're not listening to anything he said. 

he's very close right now. so accessible. and it's just another reason to want to push him away. 

satoru clears his throat, nudging your head with his nose. "and i'm tired of shoko and suguru calling me a coward, so it'd be great if you'd mention that you kissed me first." 

your brows furrow. "you told shoko and suguru?" 

"i didn't say anything," he almost swears. "they tricked me into admitting it." 

"when?" 

"...the day after i introduced you to them." 

you pull away to observe his face. "really?" 

he groans. "stop looking at me like that," he says, "it's mean." 

you almost smile at him again. then close your eyes. "okay."

"havent you listened to anything i've said to you?" he asks, rhetorically. "i flirt with you every day." 

"you flirt with everything." 

"mmm, true," he leans his chin against your head, breathing you in. "now that i've poured my heart out for you, can we go home? it's cold out here, and i'd rather make out on our couch than that bench over there." 

"who said anything about making out?" 

"please," he wraps an arm around your shoulder, and smiles down at you--with all of the typical swagger--and maybe this time you let him. 

*

[rosetterer]

bucktommy prompt: different (flirty) first meeting 🤭

mornings are sweeter with you

Apparently, Starbucks is a popular place very early on a Monday morning. Who would've thought?

Buck feels like an idiot as he rambles his order to the poor, stressed-out-looking young woman on the other side of the counter, knowing, that he's already five minutes late and will likely have to wait for plenty more minutes, judging by the way the line only seems to keep growing.

And there will be traffic. Bobby is going to be pissed.

He had a horrible night and knows that it’s not an excuse but having only slept five hours because of the stupid nightmares that have taken over his mind ever since being released from the hospital, he needs caffeine before he gets to work.

He pays and goes to stand off to the side, where at least six other people are waiting for their to-go drinks. He stands further away from them and closer to the counter so that he doesn't get in their way and so that he gets a better view of the blonde woman yelling at the manager for having their employee screw up their order.

He checks his phone, only to pocket it soon after when the messages from 118 come in, asking where the hell he is. Buck isn’t the type to be late, he really isn’t. In fact, he loves to be early just about everywhere. But today, coffee is more important than anything else.

When the woman who took his order places a cup on the counter, calls out a name that Buck doesn’t hear because he’s still half-stuck in his thoughts and stares at him for a few seconds, Buck steps toward the counter and grabs the cup in his hand.

”That was fast,” he mumbles to himself, and despite feeling horrible for the workers getting yelled at for making drinks wrong, he has to make sure that it isn’t the case with his own drink.

So he takes a sip and swallows the cold liquid down with a small frown on his face.

It’s not correct. It’s nowhere near correct.

”What the hell?” He whispers and eyes the line that goes out the front door.

He doesn’t have time to go to the end of the line and wait for his turn to tell them that they made a mistake.

And so he speaks up, even though he feels terrible about it.

”Excuse me?” He says, trying to sound as polite as possible despite the stress of being late weighing down on him.

The woman who took his order looks at him as she makes another drink.

”My coffee, it’s made wrong,” he says.

The woman sighs and sets the cup she has in her hands to the side and walks over to him. Before she gets the chance to say anything, somebody comes to stand right next to Buck, casting a shadow on the counter in front of him.

”That could be because it’s mine,” an unfamiliar voice says and Buck turns to look at the person it belongs to.

The man is a little taller than him and the first thing Buck notices is the way that the outer corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

”Here. Look,” the man says, taking the cup out of Buck’s hand, brushing their fingers together for a split second, ”Tommy.”

Buck tears his eyes away from the man’s face and looks down at the cup. Written on its surface with a black marker is a name that apparently belongs to the man in front of him.

Now he feels even more like an idiot, ”Oh my God, I am so sorry, I-”

"Don't worry about it," Tommy tells him with a small wave of a hand and another smile. He leans against the counter. "I guess someone is in desperate need of coffee."

Buck gulps, ”You- You could say that.”

”Is your name Evan?” Another woman, also standing on the other side of the counter, asks.

”Uh…” Buck shakes his head to make his mind more clear again. He’d started telling them his real name after someone misheard him and wrote ’Fuck’ on his cup last year. ”Yeah, it is.”

”Here’s your drink,” she tells him, placing the cup on the counter in front of him.

The two workers hurry off to work on the other orders.

”I can pay for your coffee. As an apology,” Buck tells Tommy, nodding toward his drink, ”Or you can have mine, and- and I can finish yours since I already got my lips all over it.”

God, that’s a weird way to say it.

”I mean-”

Tommy chuckles. Buck has to stare down at his shoes for a moment, allowing the warmth spreading to his cheeks to go away.

”I’m willing to taste yours,” Tommy tells him then, already reaching for the cup in Buck’s hand.

And Buck gives it to him, willingly, and makes sure to touch the man’s hand to feel his skin again. A little rough, a little soft.

He is so confused by everything right now.

He watches Tommy take a sip and frown at the drink the same way he did a moment ago.

”That is… quite something, Evan.”

The way his name sounds like coming from the stranger makes his heart skip a beat.

Buck decides to ignore it and chuckles instead, ”Well, I wouldn’t talk if I were you, I mean… That was terrible.”

Tommy laughs right back at him and Buck bets that if he rested his head against Tommy’s chest, he would feel the rumble of it.

”Well, to be fair, that isn’t my usual order,” Tommy tells him, still leaning against the counter in a way that makes his shirt a little tight around his biceps.

Not that Buck is looking or anything.

”A friend of mine told me that the Starbucks near them is giving out drinks in rainbow cups for Pride Month if you order a certain kind of drink,” Tommy explains. ”Either they were fucking with me or that’s just not the case at this particular Starbucks.”

Buck nods, only half-listening. For some reason, his eyes are focused on Tommy’s cleft chin.

”W- What do you usually order then?” Buck finds himself asking, now looking up at the light blue eyes staring back at him.

”A flat white with two sugars. If I’m ordering from Starbucks, it’s a Venti but if from any other place, it’s just a large,” Tommy chuckles and Buck swears that he sees his eyes looking him up and down for a split second, ”That’s the way I like it. Tall, light… Sweet.”

Buck has to swallow again. He leans against the counter as well, not really knowing what else to do, ”S- So what did you order today?”

”Iced coffee with oat milk,” Tommy says. ”Judging from the way you reacted… Not good?”

”No,” Buck says with a slightly more relaxed laugh. ”Not great. And you didn’t even get a rainbow cup.”

”No, I didn’t,” Tommy chuckles under his breath. ”My friend must think they’re very funny, getting me to order something like this.”

He places the cup with the iced coffee on the counter, pushing it back gently to make it clear that he doesn't want it, and then hands Buck his cup back.

"I could uh…" Buck starts, trying not to focus on the way that Tommy's fingers scrape against his once more. "I could buy you a coffee from this other place I usually go to on my days off. It's a five-minute walk but I mean… You need your caffeine too. I could even draw a rainbow on your cup if you want me to."

Tommy smiles at him widely and tilts his head a little. Cute.

"I'd love that but I've got to take a raincheck," he says, glancing down at his watch. "My shift starts in half an hour, so…"

”Oh,” Buck mumbles under his breath and takes a quick sip of his coffee.

He doesn’t think about the fact that Tommy’s lips rested in the same spot of the cup just a moment ago. He really doesn’t.

"But I'd love to do that sometime," Tommy continues then and grabs one of the many markers on the counter.

He leans forward and for a moment Buck stiffens for no good reason, and watches as Tommy writes something on the side of his cup. He twists it around to see it when Tommy is done and smiling proudly.

On top of ’Evan’, it now says: Call me sometime, and under his name is Tommy’s phone number.

Buck smiles at him, ”I will.”

”Great. It was lovely to meet you, Evan,” Tommy says then and pats him gently on the shoulder. ”I’ve got to get going now, I just know the traffic’s going to be terrible. Don’t forget to call. I’m going to hold onto that promise of a drawn rainbow on my coffee cup.”

”Y- Yeah, I’ll…” Buck has to clear his throat. The spot on his shoulder where Tommy’s hand just was feels like it’s burning. ”I’ll work on my drawing skills.”

Tommy smiles once more as he starts making his way out of the Starbucks. Buck’s eyes follow him.

”Bye, Evan!”

”Bye,” Buck whispers back when Tommy is already out the door.

He stands there, holding his cup until a very annoyed man rushes toward the counter, nearly knocking him out of the way. Buck walks out as well and looks around a bit to see if he can get one more glimpse of the man he just met. He doesn't see him anywhere but just the thought of him makes Buck smile.

Coffee tastes better now than ever before and even the sun seems to shine brighter and warmer.

And despite being late, Buck isn’t in a hurry.

-

This turned out better than I thought it would, so I also posted it on AO3 :) Here's the link: mornings are sweeter with you - rosetterer - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Thank you Anon for the idea!

[missnancywritesfanfic]

Grocery Shopping ft. Anemo Boys

(Based On Stuff My BF and I Have Done)

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Heizou, Kazuha, Wanderer(Scaramouche), Aether

Contains: Modern AU, Everyday Life, Fluff, Swears

A/N: I was at the grocery store and the idea popped in my head 🥰

--

VENTI - Humming Along To The Music

From the moment you stepped inside to the moment you leave. He will be humming. Tapping his finger to whatever royalty free song is playing over the speakers. You used to asked him why he never listened to his own music when you were shopping.

"But if I did that, then I'd be ignoring you. Isn't it better to be together in the moment?"

"Yeah, in the moment of Funky Town for the thirtieth time? I'm flattered."

It gets worse with every trip. It slowly evolves into mumbling the lyrics, then singing the lyrics out loud, swaying along to the music, and sometimes full on dancing with no remorse. Not a single bone of shame in his body, and you have to watch your boyfriend shake his ass while you facepalm.

"I am never taking you shopping again."

"We both know that's a big fat lie, babe. You love having me around~"

God, you hated his smug grin. Let this shopping trip be done as soon as humanly possible.

XIAO - Carry All The Groceries/Steer The Cart

He will always man the cart. Don't you dare take it away from him, he has pouted at you before when you absentmindedly grabbed one and started shopping.

You seriously have no clue why he enjoys it so much, but you can't complain, it gave you time to actually focus on picking what you wanted. And you didn't have to worry about navigating traffic in the aisles. But he will nudge the cart into you when you're taking too long, you'll always turn back to meet his glare.

"Are you done yet? We need to get a move on."

"Hey, I am the chef of the house. If you don't like how I pick the ingredients, you can cook for a change."

That'll usually shut him up. He'll still silently nudge the cart into you though, after a while you get the idea and pick up the pace. When you finish shopping, he will always take the heavier bags. Even when you offer, he insists that it isn't an issue and leave you with the lighter bags. Sometimes nothing at all.

You appreciate his help, not like you wanted to carry them anyways. You still have to scold him about being delicate with the eggs.

KAZUHA - Cannot Decide On What To Take

"Baby, for the love of god, please pick a thing and stick with it!"

You've been in the aisle for over five minutes, he can't decide on what kind of rice to buy. This isn't a price issue. Kazuha's stuck thinking in the longterm: What kind of rice is best? Should we buy a bulk bag to last longer? Which type will work best with dinner tonight? (It's Jasmin. Always Jasmin. Cheap and reliable.)

You don't care! You just want to be in any other aisle but this one! But you're being hypocritical, you've done the exact same and everytime he'll give you a specific look. Nothing else, not a frown, not even a smug grin, just a look.

"Okay, but why does this package say sugar-free but it has the same level in the nutrients on the back?" You pause and glance over, you frown. "What?"

"I haven't said anything, dear."

"You don't need to. I know that look, it's Kazuha for I'm Judging You."

HEIZOU - Comparing Item Prices

He's the type of person to lay out all his options and pick the cheapest one with the best quality. There may be meat on sale today, but he knows it's only because they're going to expire soon. This can be useful at times, no need for bottom tier food in your household.

But that's not the worse of it. Like many middle aged home owners, he will deliberately check for mistagged items so that he can get them at a discount price. There's an air fryer he's been eyeing for months that's too expensive for a leisure purchase, until the day he spots that it's been mistagged for thirty dollars cheaper than normal.

"Heizou, honey, we can just wait until it's actually on sale..."

"Ah ah~, the price labelled is the price offered. I will be taking my prize!"

"You're insufferable."

You're at the checkout, silently apologizing to the cashier and manager that are trying to find a way out of this predicament. Unfortunately for them, he gets the airfryer. And unfortunately for you, he doesn't stop using it for a loooong time.

WANDERER - Buy Old People Snacks

He doesn't like sweets. He visibly cringes everytime you pass by the bakery section or candy aisle, and you have a horrible sweet tooth that can never be quelled.

However, he's gotten into the habit of picking up dried cranberries of all things. Now, usually you don't pass judgement on his choices, despite him making it clear he doesn't care if you. Regardless, you can't help poking fun at him every once in a while.

"Pfft, nice choice granpa."

"Shut up, you shovel junk down your throat like it's your day job."

"Yeah, but at least I act my age."

"You mean five?"

If you ever, and I mean ever, try to take some for yourself. He will smack your hand away and give you the nastiest glare. Don't bother with whining or fake tears, you should've thought about that before insulting his food choice. You won't be able to steal any of his food for a good month.

AETHER - Asking Permission To Buy Stuff

You have no clue where it comes from. Before you started dating him, he and Paimon were impulsive spenders. They used to empty literal shelves and have more food then they knew what to do with (Paimon usually ate most of it in record time). But now, when you're heading down the aisle, he'd sheepishly hold a box of cereal, maybe cookies, or even fruit snacks- and give you the biggest puppy dog eyes possible.

"Aether, you are a grown man. You can buy whatever you want."

"Really?"

"Yes! Buy ten of 'em if you really want to!"

Okay, maybe that's a bit overboard. But you needed to exxagerate to make your stance clear. Maybe he was trying to be considerate of you? But you always split the bill when it came to paying for groceries, a couple extra dollars wasn't going to kill you. Especially not with your shared salaries.

But if you're not careful, Paimon might end up eating you out of house and home. So maybe he had the right idea about clearing these choices with you first.

[privatehousesanatomy]

Hello! ♥

Could you do a House X (fem!) reader where he helps her to deal with a stalker she has?

Love your One shots btw ♥

hi!! thank you so much, i love writing them <3. i think this is a very interesting request and i'm excited to give it a shot!

GREGORY HOUSE X FEM!READER

mentions of stalkers

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

"Look who finally decided to show her face. Good morning, Y/L/N. Hope you like small paychecks," House quipped as you entered the DDX office for the morning meeting, which has obviously been taking place for a while now.

"Sorry...I uh, I got stuck in traffic. There was an accident downtown," you sighed as you sat down in the empty chair at the desk. That seemed to be a good enough excuse (for now), and everyone went back to discussing the patient of the week.

Once the morning meeting came to a close and House sent the fellows off with each of their respective tasks, he watched as you stood up.

"Y/L/N, come with me," he spoke, motioning for you to follow him. Raising an eyebrow, you followed your boss into the main part of his office, watching as he limped over to his chair and sat down.

"What is it?" you ask, obviously curious as to why you hadn't been given a task.

"Why were you late this morning?"

"I told you...there was an accident downtown and I got stuck in traffic," you replied.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that. Now, tell me the real reason why you were late," he said. This wasn't the first time you'd been late for work, and if anyone was going to notice a pattern, it would be House.

"House, I can assure you that the reason I gave you was the real reason I was late," you answered, though the tone of your voice didn't sound so convincing.

"It was a good excuse, really, and I would have fell for it if this was a one time thing. But you've been late for work eight times this month alone, which leads me to think that you have other morning committments," he rambled. There he goes again with his deduction skills. You should have known better than to try to pull the wool over his eyes.

"I don't have other morning committments."

"Listen, if you're sleeping with someone and you get a little carried away in the mornings, I won't judge," he smirked. In reality, House was the last person who should be giving a lecture on attendance considering his own record wasn't so great, but as the head of the department, it was his job to make sure he knew the whereabouts of his employees.

"I'm not sleeping with anyone. Not that it's any of your business, though," you shrugged.

"You're right. It's not my business. But what is my business is when my employees start coming in late all the time. That's my job," House replied. "So I'm going to ask you again. Why the hell were you late this morning?"

You didn't want to come clean about the man that was stalking you. It was embarrassing enough as it is, but you had this deep-seeded fear that House would take it upon himself to make your situation the butt of a million and one jokes.

"It's really nothing you're interested in hearing about," you lied, your gaze landing on the floor. You were able to notice the scuff on your shoe. Brand new shoes and already scuffed.

"What? Do I have to park my car outside of your house tonight and find out why you're so late in the mornings?" he scoffed. At the mention of him essentially stalking you, you felt your heart sink.

"No...no, you really don't have to do that..."

"Why not? If you're not going to tell me why you're late, I'm going to figure it out one way or another."

"Because I'm not going to let you stalk me!" you finally snapped, and for a moment, the room fell silent. It was as if the whole world had gone silent. It didn't take long for House to put two and two together, and he let out a sigh.

"Who's stalking you?" he then asked, breaking the deafening silence in the room. As much as you didn't want to talk about it, the police hadn't been much help, and you were really beginning to fear for your safety.

"There's uh...there was this guy I met at a bar a couple of weeks ago. He offered to buy me a drink and I declined. I just didn't trust the looks of him. But he walked away so I assumed that he'd taken the hint, but then he followed me home that night and has shown up multiple times since," you explained.

"How often?"

"Not every day...and he never comes directly to my house, but he pretends to live in the neighbourhood and I see him walking all the time. Sometimes he parks his car on the street and stares at my house."

"Was he there this morning?" House asked. While the man was known for his uncaring demeanor, when it came to his employees, he would always go to bat for them, even if they didn't realize it.

"He was," you nodded, letting out a shaky sigh. "He tried to follow me to work today, so I had to take a different route than normal. That was after I built up the courage to even leave my house," you admitted. Truthfully, you'd considered calling in sick that day, but you didn't want to let your personal issues get in the way of your job. After all, being on House's team was a big job, and one wrong move could cost you everything.

As House listened to everything that you were telling him, the wheels in his mind were turning at the same time. "I'm going to drive you home tonight, and tomorrow morning, I'll pick you up as well."

"What? No, House, I couldn't ask you to go out of your way like that," you frowned.

"I'm driving you home and picking you up. Something bad isn't going to happen to you because some low-life, waste of skin loser spends his time creeping on you. I won't allow it," he insisted. It was the first time you'd ever seen him go out of his way to help someone outside of patients.

"Thanks...I really appreciate it," you replied. You knew better than to argue with him on this. You'd never win.

"Yeah, yeah. Now get. You can run labs with Chase," he said, waving you off so as not to prolong a sentimental moment.

"Right, right," you said, having almost forgotten that you were still at work for a second. As you turned and left the office, you had a small smile on your face. For the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

[jennay]

The Set Up (3)

I'll See You Around

Master List

AN: Ok, this has some out-of-the-blue drama, but I wasn't ready to end it...I have some plans, some twists and turns, if you guys would like to see them! Feel free to leave some encouragement. I would love that. This might be closer to have like 5-7 Chapters if I continue to get positive feedback. Anyways I hope you enjoy and just know there is more to come :)

Warnings: none other than it's long. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Rory rechecks his phone, wondering where you are. He'd been waiting for half an hour at the trendy restaurant that Kieran picked, and he was getting bored and restless. He wished you were there to chat with him and make him laugh. He starts to worry that you have changed your mind about him. Maybe you didn't want to come but felt too polite to refuse. Maybe you lost interest in him, and this was your way of telling him.

He looks out the window, hoping to see you walking towards the entrance. Rory hates admitting it, but he was more excited than expected and now felt he was preparing for a letdown. He feels a soft tap on his shoulder and turns to his brother, who gives him a reassuring smile. He knows Rory is imagining the worst possible scenario.

"She'll be here, dude. She's late to everything." Kieran says, trying to reassure him. He puts his hand on Rory's shoulder and squeezes him. "She'd be late for her wedding. Time management is not her strong point." He adds jokingly, hoping to make Rory laugh. He knows Rory is nervous and insecure and wants him to relax and enjoy himself. Rory forces a weak smile and nods. He knows Kieran is right. You have a habit of losing track of time or getting distracted by something. You're always running late, but you usually have a good excuse and a sincere apology. You're not rude or careless, just a bit scatterbrained. 

"Trust me," Kieran says, "We had her taking the kids to daycare for a while and the amount of times she showed up late or too early is impossible to count." He chuckles. "The woman almost missed her audition… it's just part of who she is and well, I guess we love her for it." 

Rory laughs, "Yeah, talking to her on facetime can be kind of a nightmare sometimes."

He sends you a quick text hoping you're at least OK. Hey, you're probably on your way. I wanted to make sure you're doing all right. In the end, he adds a smiley face, trying to sound friendly.

Guilt hits you like a ton of bricks. Why were you like this? You curse yourself for being so late. You ask the cab driver if you're close, and he nods, "About five minutes." He sounds annoyed, and you don't blame him. You've been stuck in traffic for ages, and the meter is running high. You quickly text Rory back, feeling bad you were already a half hour late. I'm five minutes out. I took a cab; remind me to drive next time. This time it was only kind of my fault. You add a winking face, hoping he'll find it cute and not rude. 

I drove so I could escape if everything went terrible. Don't judge me. 

You laugh at the text. How smart. 

"There isn't any parking. Would you like to get out here?" The cab driver asks, pointing to a spot a few blocks from the restaurant. "Yeah, I can walk. It's just right there." You say, grabbing your purse and phone. You pay him quickly and thank him, then walk towards the restaurant. "Fuck." You mutter to yourself. "OK, you can do this." You pull your jacket close to your body and smooth your dress down. You see Kieran's car parked outside and wonder how the man got that lucky with parking. He always had good luck, unlike you.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves before opening the door. 

"Hey, you were under an hour!" You hear Kieran's voice. He stands up and hugs you like he hasn't seen you in ages, though it's been hours. You know he's excited and wants to see how his plan will work out. 

"Don't listen to him." Jazz objects. She gently hurries him out of the way and wraps her arms around you. "It's nice to see you. I feel like it's been too long."

"I agree. Sorry I was late…I left early but somehow, well, you know. I'm late." You joke.

It's not until the two parts that your eyes land on the person behind them. Rory. 

A smile drapes your lips, and you attempt not to cheese out too hard. "Hi." You quietly say while reaching out for a hug. "It's good to see you. Not on a phone screen." You laugh, feeling a bit nervous. You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"I'm glad you made it." He gently pulls back, still looking at you with admiration, "You look amazing." He says, making you blush.

"Thank you." You whisper, losing your breath a little. Seeing him in person made you melt completely. He was more handsome in person, with his messy brown hair, sharp jaw, and charming smile. 

The hostess leads you to your table, and Rory doesn't hesitate, gently lacing his fingers with yours and guiding you there. You feel warmth as your hands touch, and you squeeze his hand lightly. He smiles at you, and you smile back. You glance back at Kieran, slightly surprised. He raises his thumb and winks, clearly happy his plan is working. He looks proud of himself like he's done you a favor.

Jazz rolls her eyes and slaps his arm lightly, scolding him in a low voice. "Stop it. You're so embarrassing!" She says, but you can tell her husband's antics amuses her. 

Rory chuckles as he lets you slide into the booth first. He sits next to you, close enough that your thighs touch. Jazz and Kieran sit across from you, automatically ordering adult beverages, and you do the same. You order a glass of wine, hoping it will calm your nerves. 

"So," Kieran says, scanning his menu, "What are you guys thinking for food?" He sounds eager and hungry, ready to order and dig in. You could hardly think of food right now. You're too nervous and excited to have any appetite.

You keep your eyes on the menu as you listen to what Rory and Jazz tell him. They seem more decisive and confident than you.

"There are way too many options." You say, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "Why is it like a book?" You flip through the pages, wondering how anyone can choose from so many dishes.

Rory smiles at you, "There's a page for every meat…So," He leans in to scan the page you're looking at, his hand resting on the small of your back as he helps you find something. You feel a tingle when his hand touches you, and you lean into him slightly. "Are you feeling chicken, steak, burgers, or salad?" His voice is soft and warm in your ear, and you're suddenly too distracted to look at the menu.

He takes notice, his eyes peering from the menu, meeting yours. He holds your gaze, making your heart skip a beat. "Do you want a recommendation?" He softly says, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat up. You want him to recommend anything as long as he keeps talking to you. You like his voice, his smile, his eyes. You like him. 

 "OK, then I suggest you try the chicken alfredo. It's my favorite dish here. It's creamy and cheesy, and delicious. Trust me, you'll love it." He says, pointing to the menu. He sounds confident and enthusiastic like he knows what he's talking about.

"OK, I'll have that then." You say, smiling back at him. You trust him. You're willing to try anything he suggests.

"Great choice." He says, closing the menu and putting it aside. He leans closer to you, his hand still on your back. He looks into your eyes, and you feel a spark between you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you hear your phone ring before he can, and Kieran audibly sighs from across the table at your annoying ringtone. "Don't you ever turn that off?" 

You look up at Kieran with annoyance. You thought you did turn it off. Your phone rings again, and you see it's your mom. You wonder why she's calling you so late, and you hope everything is OK.

“Sorry I have to answer.” You hold the phone to your ear, “Hey, mom. What's up?" You say, trying to sound casual and cheerful. "Hi, honey. I'm sorry to bother you, I know you're always busy but I think you need to come home." She says, sounding worried and nervous.

"What? Why? What's wrong?" You ask, feeling fear and concern.

“It's your dad. He had a heart attack. He's in the hospital. They're doing tests on him. They don't know how serious it is." She says, her voice breaking.

“Oh, my god. Mom, I'm so sorry.” You feel tears pricking at your eyes.

You slip your phone into your purse, feeling a knot in your stomach. "I have to go." You blink away a few tears, trying to stay calm and strong.

"Let me grab the tab and I'll take you back to the hotel," Kieran offers, getting up from the booth. He looks at you with concern and sympathy, knowing how close you are to your dad.

You shake your head, "It's my dad. I have to go back to New York." You say, knowing you have to catch the next flight home. You don't want to waste any time or miss any chance to see him. 

Rory hurries out of the booth, grabbing your coat and letting you slip it back on. He hugs you gently as the two of you wait for Kieran to return. He wraps his arms around you, making you feel safe and warm. Jazz runs her hand up and down your back, attempting to comfort you. She gives you a sad smile, wishing she could do more for you.

"It's going to be OK." Rory whispers to you, his breath tickling your ear. He doesn't know if it's true, but he hopes it is.

 "I'm sorry." You mutter against his chest, feeling guilty and regretful. You're sorry for leaving him like this. You're sorry for ruining the night for everyone.

"Don't be." He hushes, kissing the top of your head. "I just want you to be OK." He speaks with pure sincerity, meaning every word. 

Kieran returns with the receipt and his keys. He looks at you and Rory, and he nods slightly. knowing Rory wants to say goodbye to you correctly. 

"I'll wait in the car." He says quietly, "Take your time." He leaves the restaurant with Jazz, leaving you and Rory alone briefly.

Rory takes your hand and leads you outside. He walks with you to Kieran's car. He opens the door for you and helps you get in the back seat. He leans in and looks into your eyes, seeing the pain and fear in them, and he feels it too.

He cups your face with his hands and kisses you softly, making you feel a rush of emotions. He kisses you as he means it, like he doesn't want to let you go.

He pulls back slightly and rests his forehead against yours and he strokes your cheek with his thumb, making you shiver. It may not of been the greatest timing for a first kiss but he needed you to know he was serious about you. "I'll call you later." He says softly, promising to keep in touch with you.

"OK."  You whisper nodding your head. "Please text me tonight."

Rory softly closes the door behind you. He waves to you as Kieran starts the engine and drives away and watches the car disappear into the night, feeling sadness.

He hopes this isn't the end of your story.

Part 4

[luckystarchild]

Gummy Bears in a Parked Car

If there's one thing being slightly-more-visible-than-average on TikTok has taught me, it's that anger directed at me from a stranger is only rarely about me at all.

I posted a video about the time I got stuck in traffic and ate too many gummy bears out of boredom and got really sick. 500,000+ views later, one lone viewer is berating me in the comments for "sitting in traffic with [my] eyes closed," commentary peppered with snarky rhetorical questions and all-caps yelling.

Here're the details: I was stopped for 45 minutes just behind the scene of an accident. The car was in park. During that time in the parked car, I shut my eyes for approximately two seconds at a time so I could bite the head off a bear, hide its headless body in my hand, and then try to guess the flavor without seeing the bear. This process takes only slightly longer than a normal blink. The car I'm sitting in was in park for 45 minutes. And you're berating me for closing my eyes?

"No, it doesn't matter that you were stopped," they're saying (and these are direct quotes). "I'm frustrated, and I'm judging you."

....ma'am, are you sure judging someone for eating gummy bears in a parked car is a reasonable reaction to this situation? Are you sure your reaction is proportional, and worth either of our time? Because it's definitely not!

This isn't about me. I don't know what it's about, but a person in a centered frame of mind doesn't get heated over something so small and proceed to fuss at a stranger for eating gummy bears in a parked car.

Moment like these remind me that whenever someone on the internet chooses to bully or berate me over nothing, it's rarely about me. I won't let someone else's unresolved issues ruin my day. Neither should you.

The next time someone pops out of the woodwork to pick a fight over nothing, I hope you think of me.

I hope you think of me and say to yourself, "gummy bears in a parked car," and move on with your day.

This is my gift to you.

[midwestmade29]

*Currently doing a happy dance*

CHAPTER 1 💕

I somehow managed to break through my writer's block and put together the first part of another Christian Cage story! Let us all rejoice 😂 With this story, I'm kinda taking it in a different direction compared to my last one. This story dives a little deeper into a version of Christian that I imagined if he had taken a lot of the criticism, negativity and hate that he received during different points of his real life career, (from fans, writers, coworkers, etc.) and had a very hard time dealing/coping with it, and choosing to let it consume him. The story may start off kinda slow, but I hope you'll give it a chance! (Don't worry...there will still be spicy content in it as the story marches on 🔥)

If you are not 18+ years old, please KEEP SCROLLING. Do not interact with any parts/chapters of this story.

Due to the explicit nature, this story is NSFW or minors.

It is written from the POV of a female character and has dialogue between her and Christian Cage. As I continue writing, I may change the POV to Christian’s from time to time!

Some topics/actions/theme(s) of this story may not be suitable and/or triggering for some readers. Foul language, alcohol consumption/use, drunkenness, arguments, “sexual dirty talk.”

Word count for Chapter 1: 1,354

*As always, I would love to hear from you! Constructive criticism, suggestions,feedback,thoughts…tell me all the things!😌*

So, without further ado...here is Chapter 1 🖤

Earlier today, Christian sent me a text and told me to meet him at our favorite restaurant downtown at 9 o’clock for dinner. I was so excited to see him after being a part for 12 days due to his travel schedule for AEW, that I even went shopping to pick out some new lingerie and a dress to wear for him. I couldn’t wait to feel his arms wrapped around me and to kiss his full lips. The thought of him discovering my little secret I was hiding under my dress caused my core to heat with excitement. With one more spritz of my perfume and a quick touchup of my lipstick, I was ready to go see my guy.

I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes late due to my Uber driver getting us stuck in traffic, and thankfully the hostess sat me at our reserved table anyway. Christian hadn’t arrived yet, but the waiter greeted me and asked if there was anything he could get me while I waited. He nodded and walked away when I only ordered a glass of ice water for now. I sat in the dim lighting of the restaurant and stared out the window, watching people pass by holding their umbrellas, protecting them from the rain that had started to fall. I studied the menu from front to back, checked my phone more times than I’d like to admit for any notifications, and eventually ordered a glass of wine. Time continued to tick on, and Christian was now 40 minutes late for our date. A sense of uneasiness settled in my stomach.

I felt bad for holding up our table while other patrons continued sauntering into the restaurant. The waiter was very understanding when I tried to attribute Christian’s tardiness to a possible flight delay due to the rain, or maybe even traffic, but when the front door of the restaurant burst open, I was sadly mistaken. Judging by the look on my face, the waiter gave me a sympathetic smile and hurried away to check on his other tables. I watched Christian stumble in, drenched from the rain, about to knock over a potted plant on his way to the hostess station. My eyes grew larger the closer the hostess and Christian got to the table when I was finally able to take in the full sight of him. I stood and thanked the hostess before she walked away, and helped Christian sit in his chair before he knocked it over or missed it completely. “Hi baby. You’re looking mighty fine tonight. Did you dress up just for me?” Christian slurred. Before I could reply, the waiter came over to the table once he noticed my less than punctual guest had gotten settled. I quickly tried to shoo him away, but it was too late. “Good evening, sir. How are you this evening? May I get you something to drink, or perhaps start you two off with an appetizer?” the waiter offered, looking back and forth between Christian and I.

I slid down in my chair, staring daggers at Christian, just hoping and praying he would behave, only to have him smile back at me mischievously. “Actually, my good man, a drink sounds delightful. Whiskey, neat. No cheap shit.” “Uhm, do you think that’s a good idea?” I shot back immediately. “Judging by the swagger you displayed walking in here, it would appear that you’ve already had enough.” The waiter stood silently, unsure of what to do. He started rocking on his heels the more Christian and I stared at each other, silently arguing. Christian finally caved, downgrading his order all the way down to a water while rolling his eyes. “We’ll also have some of the house bread with the assorted spreads, please.” I added. “What’s that for?” Christian asked. I tried to reel in my frustrations before responding, but I think it still came out a little snarky. “One, you could use something to soak up whatever alcohol you have in your stomach, and two, I’m starving. I’ve been sitting here practically drooling all over the trays of food that have passed by me the last 40 minutes.” This time, Christian was the one to slide down in his chair a little. “Not happy to see me, baby?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face, but the alcohol made him break out into a small fit of giggles. He looked up at me with his piercing blue eyes and lips in a full pout before giggling again. If I wasn’t so concerned and frustrated with his current state, I would’ve joined in on his laughter because he looked adorable with his pouty lips and his smile was radiant.

“What’s going on, Christian? Is everything okay?” I asked softly. “Nothing’s wrong, baby. I had a few drinks on the plane. Maybe a couple after we landed too. Just lost track of time. What makes you think there’s something wrong?” “Because I know you, Christian. You show up 40 minutes late to our date that you put together, you haven’t drunk like this in a while and the last time you did was when you and Adam had a huge fight. I know how hard it is for you to get out of your own head sometimes. So please, don’t lie to me because I can see right through you. This is more than “just a few drinks.” “You’re killing my buzz, being so serious. I thought we were here to have a good time. Not to try and fix someone that’s unfixable.” He replied condescendingly. “Now, are you going to finish your wine, or can I have it?”

I smacked his hand away as he tried to grab my wine glass. “Spoilsport.” He groaned, crossing his arms. “If anyone is spoiling anything, it’s you Christian. You can’t say things like that and not elaborate. I just want to help; I’m not trying to fix you. It hurts my heart to hear you say such things about yourself.” “Well, the truth hurts, baby. And the truth right now is that I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s for that matter. So, let’s cut the shit and kiss and make up. I’ve missed your sexy lips while I’ve been gone. I can think of a few things I’d like you to do with them...”

Usually him talking dirty like that would ignite something deep in my core, but right now his words were just igniting my anger. “Fine, Christian! You don’t want to talk, so we won’t talk. In fact, I think I’ll leave you and your secrets to enjoy your drunken state since that seems to be what’s important to you right now. I can’t believe you were late getting here because you were drinking! I’ll see myself out.” I scolded before standing. Even with his head swimming in all the alcohol he had obviously consumed, I think he finally started to realize how quickly our conversation (and night) had taken a turn for the worse. This was hardly the first time I’d seen him like this, and definitely not the first night to go this way either. Christian remained seated as I grabbed my purse and jacket off my chair. “What about dinner?” he murmured. I couldn’t help but scoff at his question. “I’m not hungry anymore, but you go ahead and enjoy. I hear it’s one of your favorite restaurants. Goodbye, Christian.” I weaved through the sea of tables as fast as I could, trying my best to avoid bumping into anyone or knocking anything over. The cool, damp night air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath once I was outside. Reality hit me fast when I remembered it was raining, and that I had taken an Uber to get to the restaurant. My heels I was wearing were not ideal to walk in, but I had to get out of here. I stepped into the downpour trying to shield my phone from the rain so I could make a very important phone call...

If you read through the entire thing, THANK YOU!!! I appreciate it more than you know!

Chapter 2 coming soon…😘

[lurkingteapot]

Last Twilight ภาพนายไม่เคยลืม Ep 2

I apologise in advance for inconsistent name romanisations, I TRY to remember what the official ones are for names I've seen but I also watched this without subs so all new names are a guessing game, and the EXISTING ones aren't consistent within the show, so. idk. I had a point. Reaction log!

is that his technical college/vocational school shirt?

"hunger is the best spice!" can I say Y I K E S

oh, she's a chef?

ooof the music when he asked about the dad

that's like. almost twice a foreign high-school teacher's salary.

asdfasdf Night

oh so Night is using Day's caretaker as his personal … idk, help? too? that'll be the source of zero conflict, I'm sure :grimacing:

แค่ดูแบดๆ อะ THANKS FOR THE SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD NOW, NIGHT

(I'm going to have to comment of how much I love seeing Mark as a member of the main, not just recurring, cast for at least another two episodes. He'll get a lead role eventually.)

oh that looks like he's likely to run into it and make it spill though

>_> awww little prince + badminton? wonder who made that painting

I'd say don't stick your hand in there but that water looks like it BADLY needs changing/cleaning anyway

oof impressive

kinda weird to wander around the room while Day's asleep, think, but -- asdfadsfasd the PLANT

I really love how we get to see Jimmy just act here. NO speaking, we just get to see Mawk Mhok move in space. I love that

ow Mhok you don't just move people's stuff around without their consent

I love Phawjai (also fuck this she's Phawjai and he's Mawk, or she's Porjai and he's Mork, it's the same fucking vowel what in the romanisation hell)

asdfasdf he's such a LOSER I love him

omg Jimmy's skin ACTUALLY looking like a real person's right now? whoa

hey maybe you could ask Day to open the door for you

Onn … heh

adsfasdfasd they're so silly I love it

I like what they're doing with the eyework in the scenes with Onn and Day

YAY assistive technology

I love that that doesn't even seem to have occurred to Mhok here

and I think Mhok is just getting that Omm is not judging him on his looks

yep here we are

adsfasdf I love that Onn told Mhok

I'd just go, honestly, but I love that Mhok seems to think it's a challenge

oh, that's the little prince audiobook?

the music now that he's dropped the eye drops (hah) is like something out of a horror movie

he's gonna have to call for help

asdfasdfadsf oh Mhok that's gonna come to bite you in the ass, it's not your SHIRT that smells

dfasdfsdfsdfadsf oh dear

Mhok you can't just do that just 'cause he can't see

asdfadsf he Khun Nuu'd him

I TOLD YOU THAT TANK NEEDED CLEANING and also all that knocking must've been stressful af for the fish, just saying

Jasmine!

oh that looks good

asdfdsfd the comic timing on "what are you afraid of" here was GOLDEN

horror movies, oh no

well shit

are you telling me they didn't even tell anyone he was in Thailand? what the actual fuck, Day's family

harsh, Day

look this kind of sitch is probably sorta not cool for Mhok

oh fuck poor Phawjai (also: called it)

yeah

oop this is gonna backfire so hard

yeep

oh shit there it is

oh, there's a part 5 for those horror movies?

BUT Day's down in the living room again, I notice

Phawjai, you absolute star

GOLDFISH SLIPPERS omg

oh you'll leave the house with HER

Mhok trying to put himself in Day's shoes, huh. not sure if smart or offensive, but at least he's trying, I guess, which is more than we can say for most folks we've seen around Day so far?

Mhok's "fart proudly - stand behind me" shirt is taking me OUT

yeah, that makes sense

Day, wtf, that's so dangerous, I'm sure you've been on a scooter in Bangkok traffic when you could still see! you must know you can't tell for sure there'll be room for you to do that left and right of you!

a friend for the fish, huh, let's hope they don't kill each other

I hate to be this person but how often, exactly, are you supposed to use these eye drops, Day? I mean I guess his eyesight is going anyway, but …

I'm really enjoying the show so far. Solid. P'Aof material is being P'Aof material and I'm really enjoying that.

[icycoldninja]

They'd warned you (Yandere Kuja x reader)

TW: Blood, mild violence and yandereish behavior. if you are not comfortable with these themes, DNI!

Being with Kuja wasn't easy. But then again, no one said it would be. In fact, they'd said the very opposite. They'd warned you to stay away from "that man", saying that he wasn't right for you--that he'd only hurt you in the end. Despite their dark predictions, you insited on staying with Kuja; on loving him. The man had his imperfections, yes. He could be a bit of a drama queen, and could sometimes be rather needy, but he was still your beloved sorcerer....even if he did get a bit violent sometimes.

Letting out a sigh, you opened the door to you and Kuja's shared home, careful not to make a sound. Work had kept you away from your lover for longer than usual, by at least an hour or so--not to mention the absolute HELL that was traffic. You knew all too well how needy Kuja could get, especially if he was separated from his "little dear" for too long. Judging from how dark the house was, Kuja was probably napping in his room. If you played your cards right and timed things just so, you could probably convince him that you'd been home for a while, and that he'd just slept through your return. You quietly placed your purse on the rack, then tiptoed to the bathroom to wash up and change. You'd barely finished stuffing your work clothes into a hamper when you heard light footsteps down the hall. "Y/N, where are you, my dear~" Kuja's musical voice filled the house as he neared your location. You bit your lip and tried your best to look casual as a familiar face peeked through the doorway. "There you are!" He exclaimed, sounding very much like a kindergarten teacher playing hide and seek with a child. "Hey, Kuja." You greeted, smiling. "How was your nap?" Kuja's cheerful face immediately fell into a dark scowl. "Nap? I wasn't napping." Your eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "No? I thought you were, cause the lights were out-"

"HOW DARE YOU!?" Kuja's sudden outburst was loud enough to make you jump. The aftershocks of his voice rung in your ears for a few minutes. You reached up and rubbed your ears tenderly before realizing Kuja was still glaring at you. "Kuj-" "DON'T YOU START WITH ME!" He thundered, striding up to you elegantly yet angrily. "You were late today," He hissed, his face inches from your own. "Why?" You let out a long sigh. "I was held up at work, and then got stuck in traffic." Kuja glared at you with cold blue eyes that smoldered with an anger you'd never witnessed before. Several seconds passed by in silence before he raised a slender arm and slapped you across the face.

"How dare you lie to me?" His normally airy voice was grim and flat. "Kuja, I'm not lying to you-" Another slap, this one harder. Your cheeks stung with pain as you reached up and rubbed your stinging face."Do you know what I do for you, my dear?" Kuja growled, sashaying across the room before turning to face you with the air of an actor preparing to deliver his soliloquy. "Do you understand what lengths I must go to in order to ensure you stay mine?" He raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. "Is your feeble mind even capable of comprehending how many pains I have taken to keep others away from you; do you see how hard it is for me to be patient with you when you insist on lying to me?!" His hands curled into fists; his frown deepened. "Well?!" You sighed and massaged your forehead. This was nothing more than one of his frequent mood swing; something that was considered normal when it came to Kuja. The best way to deal with it was by sticking to the truth while at the same time, trying not to make him angry. "I'm...I'm sorry, Kuja. I know you do a lot for me, and I really appreciate it." Kuja's irate expression didn't change after your apology; if anything, he seemed to look angrier. "If you truly appreciate what I do for you, then you'll tell me what you were really doing." You sighed again. "I told you, Kuja, I was working." Kuja then exploded with anger. "YOU LIE!" He shrieked, charging towards you with his fists clenched. "YOU'RE LYING TO ME!!! YOU LIE!" He began pummeling you with his small--but powerful--fists. "Admit it!" He screamed, as you raised your arms to defend yourself from his attacks. "Admit it! You've been cheating on me!" He accentuated his words with a hard punch to your face, one that connected with your nose. You felt a sharp pain, then became aware of a warm liquid trickling down your face. At the sight of your injury, Kuja's rage evaporated. "Oh...oh...dear..." He dropped to his knees and took your hand in his. "I....I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..." You let out a groan; your nose was starting to throb with pain. More blood trickled down your face while Kuja knelt before you, staring at what he'd done with wide, glassy eyes. "Little dear...I...forgive me..." He stood up and searched the bathroom for a Cure Materia, eventually finding one tucked in the medicine cabinet. "I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you!" He mumbled, shakily casting the spell on you to restore your nose. He watched with tearful eyes as you massaged your now healed nose and stood up to wash the blood off your face. "I'm so sorry!" He cried, running forward and trapping you in a big hug, snifling slightly. You toweled off your face and turned around to return his embrace. "It's okay, baby." You whispered, kissing his cheek. "I'm fine now." Kuja buried his face into your shoulder and began sobbing. "I didn't want to hurt you! I....I love you!" You patted his back comfortingly and shushed him. "I know you do. It's alright, everything's alright now." After a few moments, Kuja pulled away, his tears gone and his expression stern. "You know," Kuja began, "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't lied to me." You let out a long, suffering sigh as another tantrum ensued, this one with more screaming, more yelling, and a lot more punching.

Yes, being with Kuja wasn't easy, but they'd warned you.

You just never listened.

[mykingdomforasong]

Baker AU / holiday fic 😇 for whoever you want

Reductress put out an article recently headlined "I'm a hot small town baker, and I simply don't have enough cum in me to fuck all you corporate lawyers this season."

And anyway, that's the premise of this. Rating: M

Relationships: Mandocule (not yet established), mostly dinluke with hints to skysolo and dincobb, as well as references to bobadin and dinfennec.

Other tags: human baby Grogu, Din being a little slutty, unrealistic Hallmark-eque small towns.

~

Din had spent years perfecting his Christmas eclairs. He piped out the batter onto a baking sheet, carefully making uniform Christmas tree shapes. A little less than thirty minutes later, he had idilic, golden brown and puffed up trees.

He filled his piping bag with pastry cream and pushed the tip into the trunk of the tree. He filled it slowly, before sliding the bag out and moving to the next one.

He was on his fifth when he heard the bell ring. Din stepped to the side, glancing from the kitchen to the front of the bakery.

"We're sold out of everything for today, but you could place an order for tomorrow," he yelled, eyes still fixed on the tree in his hand.

"I just stopped by to see you," the customer said. Well, not a customer at all really. It was Luke, one of the many city-slicker types who'd blown into town for the holidays. North Pole in Nevarro County was a charming, small, and overwhelmingly Christmas-themed town. It tended to attract the overworked, overtired, lawyer types this time of year. And this year, they had all found their way through Din's door.

He'd had more dates in the last month than in the last two years. It was good for his ego, and, since they were all wealthier than he was, good for his stomach too. But they were all starting to wear him down.

It was hard to complain about Luke, though. After one date and two glasses of wine, Din found himself in positions he didn't know his body could get into anymore, getting his insides all kinds of rearranged before the holidays.

The piping bag was squeezed thin; Din struggled to get the last few good drops into the soft pocket of the pastry. When he finally gave up, he put both down on his work station, resigned to refilling the bag when he was done with Luke.

"What can I do for you?" Din asked.

"Well," Luke said, leaning on the empty glass display case, "I seem to be the only Jewish person around, so I thought I'd throw a little Hanukkah party over at mine and Han's."

Han. He was another one. More fun on a date than Luke, but a surprisingly bratty bottom, which only turned on Din so much.

"When?" Din asked.

"This Saturday. Only one night, not all eight," Luke said smiling. "I might be looking to place a big order for it."

"Sounds great," Din said. Luke smiled and leaned up on the counter, looking for a kiss. Most years, he only got kissed if he got stuck under mistletoe. But this year, all kinds of people seemed eager to kiss him.

When Luke left, Din finished off his eclairs, coating them in a white chocolate ganache dyed a bright green. Some red candies finished the whole picture. Din slid them into the fridge for the morning, before finally turning to leave.

He had a date.

~

Luke was a public defender; Han had been making big money in criminal defense, but was drawn to public service by Luke (Din still hadn't exactly figured out their relationship yet). And then there was Boba, a fierce corporate lawyer with some fancy car. And Fennec who was a divorce lawyer because "I like bing involved in other people's arguments." Not to mention Cobb, a long time friend and fuck buddy from a few towns over who worked in small claims and traffic courts as a judge.

He wasn't sure what he'd put in the pastries this year that had lawyers flocking to him, but he was struggling to keep up. He'd learned a long time ago you could only put so much pastry cream in the eclair before it just fell apart.

Din hummed their names to himself as he drove home to the tune of Mambo Number Five.

Din grabbed the box of cannolis off his passenger seat as he headed inside.

Sure, he'd still go to Luke's for Hanukkah, and see Fennec again on Boxing Day. Han would probably steal him away for something salacious in the ally behind the bakery. And Cobb had already started delivering on an Advent Calendar of naughty pictures.

But none of that mattered now. This was the date he'd waited all year for.

Grogu was just starting on solid foods, and Din couldn't help but take a thousand photos or so of the way his big eyes got bigger as he tasted the sweet ricotta filling of the cannoli. Din had meant for him only to try the filling, but, overwhelmed with longing, Grogu reached out with his little baby hands and gripped the whole thing, crushing the shell. Din laughed as Grogu fought with all his might to lick his hands clean before Dad could get in with a wet towel.

"I'll bring home just the filling tomorrow, then," he said. Grogu made a happy noise, like he understood.

When the pastry and baby were all clean, Din got him into his outfit. It was a green and white stripped elf costume, featuring a hat with pointy elf ears. Once Grogu was throughly bundled, they headed out to the winter village.

Santa was easy to find, and Grogu was so brave sitting on his lap for a picture. He didn't have any words in his vocabulary to answer Santa's questions, but they got a good photo anyway. Grogu's smile was as big as Santa's, as Din crouched down by the arm rest, a reassuring hand on Grogu's back.

The bakery (and his collection of lawyers) kept him busy most days, but when Grogu came into his life, he promised his boy he'd always find time for him. Din picked Grogu up, and held him tight to his chest. Grogu had come with him on a few dates when babysitters fell through, charming Dad's new friends. He even was kind enough to sleep solidly through the night when Cobb stayed over. They were a team, the two of them, and where ever Din went, Grogu would go too.

Din picked up the photo prints and a paper frame that read "Baby's First Christmas!"

Grogu reached for the paper, but Din held it just out of reach, letting him look.

"Did you like Santa, buddy?" Grogu babbled something as Din kissed his little forehead. "Yeah, me too."

~

((Also I do not know how to make an eclair, and all the research I did I got from a Try Guys video. I do not know if you can make them shaped like Christmas trees, and frankly I don't care.))

[danielle-dna]

Ghost Town - 2

It was a dark and stormy night. This is how all shitty horror movies and cheesy romance novels start. For me it started on a dark and stormy day. The well welcomed rain has cooled down the atmosphere in the middle of the summer. At the perfect time, because the entire nation of the United Kingdom was sick and tired of the heatwave.

The streets were empty and pretty much deprived of life, as almost everyone was either at work, home or stuck in traffic trying to get there. I was returning home from work. My NHS uniform was getting wet, my hair was an in an abomination that once resembled a bun and my shoes made squeaking sounds as they hit the pavement. Despite it being in the middle of the summer, I was shivering. But I was happy. I was happy that my shift has ended, I was happy that I won't be at work for a month and I was happy that I won't have to deal with peoples shit for a while.

So naturally, I decided to celebrate. The nearest Tesco was well stocked with all kinds of adult beverages and it was a no brainer that it would be my first stop on the way home. But then I remembered, that I need to take my newly prescribed PCOS medication and I really shouldn't mix those with bourbon. The next best thing I could think of were over the counter sleeping pills. Don't judge. You deal with idiots who think the world owes them something, just because they are unwell and than tell me that you don't want to numb your brain.

After a quick trip to the nearest boots, I ran home. But, of course the fate had other plans. Plans that included a very nice black BMW, a large puddle and my ass near a stop light.

Yep, the asshole splashed me with muddy water that probably contained pathogens still unknown to science. After the initial shock wore off, I was swarmed with anger. I was mad at the weather, the moronic driver, but most importantly, I was mad at myself. I wanted to cry and I nearly did. But not before showing the car a middle finger and pretty much screaming a few obscenities their way.

To my horror the car stopped at the side of the road and the drivers' side opened.

For the first time in my life I felt like I was actually in a shitty romantic comedy. Except I was not the one with a happy love life, but instead I was that side character who was always the butt of every joke.

The man who stepped out of the car had to be at least 6'2. He was well built, dressed in all black, but most importantly, he wore a black balaclava with a scary-looking skull print. I flinched a little and my first instinct was to run. I had no idea who this man was. He could be a sadist who likes to chop up women in his basement for all I know.

"You alright there, love?" his rough voice sobered me out of my trance and I hesitantly nodded. I couldn't help but blush at the casual endearment. He started walking towards me and for some reason I did not feel the urge to run anymore. "You sure about that? Can I offer you a ride?"

[survey--s]

609.

The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? Iced coffee.

Do you like clowns? Nope. I'm not terrified of them or anything but they really do freak me out.

Have you answered all of these questions honestly so far? I mean, there have been two questions lol.

What’s the third text in your inbox? It's from Mike saying he needs new tyres on his car.

Are you listening to anything at the moment? I have Two and a Half Men on in the background and I can hear my own typing, the dryer and the dog snoring.

Do you twitch when you’re falling asleep? Yeah, all the time.

Are your dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty? We don't own a dishwasher.

Are you at home or with friends more often? Home.

When is the last time you were on a bicycle? About six years ago.

What have you eaten today? Two slices of toast and a donut.

Would you date someone 15 years older than you? No, probably not.

Do you own a strapless bra? I'm sure I have one somewhere, yeah.

Does the person you like know it? Yes.

Did anything brighten up your day today? It was nice to have a lie in, but otherwise it's just been a pretty normal day so far. I slept in, had breakfast, walked the dog, bumped into Suzanne and Charlie, showered, did two loads of laundry, went to the shops, fed the animals and now I'm doing this.

How are you feeling at this exact moment? Kinda hungry, but otherwise I'm absolutely fine.

Are you someone who worries too often? Not so much anymore.

If you could date somebody who would it be? My husband, lol.

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? Sure, I know people judge me when I'm walking Archie and he's stressing out about other dogs.

What is one good thing you’re known for? Ironically, how good I am with other dogs haha.

How about one bad thing? I have no idea.

Are you taller than most? Most what? Most women, yes. Most people in general? No, I don't think so.

When was the last time you sang an ENTIRE song? Today in the shower.

Are you the type of person who likes to be out or home? I like both. I find being at home really relaxing and I recharge the best that way, but I can't spend too long indoors without getting out - otherwise I get cabin fever.

What time do you normally go to bed? 11 pm - 1 am. 

What is one thing that is currently bothering you? Nothing in particular, to be honest.

What did you do today? Oh, I kind of answered this already lol. I slept in until about 8.30am, did a load of laundry, vacuumed, had breakfast, walked the dog, came home, showered, did another load of laundry, went grocery shopping and fed the animals - now I'm doing this and watching TV.

Do you consider yourself to be attractive? I think I'm pretty average looking.

What was the last thing that you drank? Pepsi Max.

Is anything annoying you now? Not right this second, no.

Has anyone ever said i love you to you and not meant it? Yeah.

Do you regret going out with the last person you did? No.

Do you realise it when you curse? No, not always.

When was the last time you showered? About three hours ago when I got back from walking the dog.

Who did you last talk to in person? Suzanne.

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? I always do SOMETHING, but yeah, I do have some properly lazy days at times, lol.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? Yes.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? I've never seen it.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? Nope, I don't really believe in that stuff.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? About 3-4 hours.

Best field trip experience? When we went to Paris for a week.

Have you ever been to New York City? Nope.

If so, is it all its cracked up to be? ...

What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? Personally, about £30 per head but my dad once took Mike and I to a restaurant that was about £300 per person, not including alcohol.

What museums have you visited, if any? Too many to name. I was always dragged around museums as a kid.

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? Sure, all the time. It's why I've always hated stuff like that.

What’s your worst travelling experience? Getting scammed in France I guess, but it was no big deal in the grand scheme of things.

Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why? The first one, I guess because it's what I grew up with along with all the expansion packs.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? Sure, but that's what happens when you live in terraced housing or apartments. You just deal with it.

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? Probably my senior school tutor.

Best muffin you’ve ever had? I love a freshly baked blueberry muffin.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? Yeah, we had to for a while in school.

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? I'm logged into it all the time but I only really check it when I have a notification or want to upload something.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? I'm not good at any kind of maths, lol.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? I love it - most people I meet haven't heard of the stuff I like, ha.

What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? I honestly have no idea. The girl over the road from us walks her ferret sometimes, that's pretty weird.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? I mean, I think sometimes people get lucky, sure, but I don't think it happens for any particular reason.

How often do you “half-ass” things (put little effort in)? God, all the time hahah.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Sometimes, yeah. I don't pick messy foods if I'm out in public as I'm pretty much guaranteed to spill it down my front LOL.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? Ohh yes.

How reliable is your internet connection? Generally it's fine but it has been going on/off a bit lately for some reason.

Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? Yeah, sure.

What’s something that makes you incredibly nervous? Phone calls with people I don't know.

What’s the latest you’ve ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? I pulled multiple all-nighters at university.

If you don’t have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them? I've been wearing glasses since I was seven years old.

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn’t need them anymore? That would be AMAZING. Unfortunately, my prescription is too complicated for laser eye surgery so I'm just gonna have to live with them for now.

How many vegetarians do you know? Probably quite a few, but I don't really go around asking people things like that.

Have you ever considered going to art school? Nope.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? No. I don't really spend time with anyone like that.

How quickly can you write an essay? Depends on the subject and how long the essay has to be.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? Nope. I've never understood how people can do that.

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? Yeah, a few times.

If you have a job, who is your least favorite coworker/manager? I'm self-employed.

Favorite episode of Spongebob? I couldn't pick a particular favourite. I like the ones with Squidward as the main focus.

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? Sure, don't most people?

Are your parents supportive of you? They most certainly are.

How often do you take the train to go places? Never. Around here, it's MUCH quicker and cheaper to drive.

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? I do when I'm like, waiting for an appointment or for a friend to come back from the toilet or something, but I try not to do it in company as it's pretty rude.

[fencraft]

While planning my route home from a retreat this weekend, I noticed a route could be planned via Pinvin - setting of Penda's Fen, though not the shooting location (though that is very close by, maintaining that specific sense of place). I don't like driving, or coming home from a holiday, so all week this was my treat to look forward to.

About an hour before I arrived, I was suddenly and shockingly aware of the landscape - fields in the foreground, but with that line of purple in the distance. I hadn't realised the landscape in the film was distinctive - it just read to me as England; but I knew that it was a particular part and supposed to be read as such. I tried to concentrate on the road and not be overtaken into mythic time just yet, and then I got stuck in the Worcester traffic and fell slightly in love with an aging biker who was behind and ahead of my car.

Eventually I passed the sign for the village - abruptly - and looking for somewhere to park, followed Town Center signs to the church. The signs said no parking except for churchgoers but I judged it was quiet enough.

So firstly, I must announce my regret at not running the kind of cult which scams money out of people, because not one but several of the large houses around Pinvin church are for sale, and it struck me as quite the place we ought to be. Here is one of the houses. If I lived in a place like this, I would die of delight, you would never hear the end of it, I'd be striding affably about like Lord Summerisle and shaking hands.

Secondly: the position of St Nicholas church - the only one in the village - is extremely striking. It is on a foot-crossroad, and in the quarters around it are fields of wheat. I have never seen anything like it. It's not unusual for a church to be on a green, but within a wheatfield is extremely uncanny and dare I say, symbolic.

Pinvin is a road, more or less. Alongside the church, there are two schools (didn't go to see or photograph, for obvious reasons), and an inn. Walk too far in any direction and you fall off, back into fields. All the houses look expensive, and many of them are new-ish. In the 70s I imagine the village felt quite frighteningly exposed among the big empty fields and the face of the sky bearing down. It's present in the film, but I'm only now fully aware of it, that Pinvin is exactly like the little village of the Fencraft journey - a small town, with fields for wandering around it, but in the distance - mountains. These are the Malverns, which I drove over on my journey there. Not many trees, and none of them old-feeling - a handful on the green.

I pottered about the churchyard - fairly unremarkable. I am going to visit again to do a service, but the door was closed when I was there. I was taken by the site of the hungry earth within the sepulchre, and what seemed to be a stone circle of old grave-markers

Then it was time to visit the pub, which was just opening at 2pm. I spoke with the baffled innkeeper. There is nothing in Pinvin, and yet here is a newcomer - a weird looking man-woman who smelt of the undergrowth and for some reason, really wants to be here, not at the Anchor in the next village along, even though they will do a meal and tea and the Coach and Horses will not. I had talked to some people at the retreat about my planned trip to Pinvin, and discovered Penda's Fen is a seven-minute infodump at the very least, so I smiled and stayed discreet. The pub is modern, and after a while some regulars came in, all of them looking bemused at my presence. I asked if there was anything to see locally. They recommended the Abbey in Pershore - nearby large village. There clearly wasn't anything else here. It's a place for leaving.

[tiredandtranz]

I make only the best decisions

So. I want to preface this. I am not doing well. I had a giant chiari migraine yesterday that I am still dizzy from. My period has started. My back is fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked. I, physically, feel like 5 miles of hammered shit.

Cool, great. So, I had just gotten home and sat down to chill with some online friends for the night when I started hearing distant booming. I have been wanting to storm chase since I was a kid.

Me, being a person who's period cramps are taking her out hard, is still dizzy and brain fogged, heard that booming thunder like the call of the gods, inviting me to find glory. I got dressed, grabbed my camera and headed down stairs, hoping to catch a few photos of the storms before they hit the city. I didn't even know if it was raining. After a brief conversation from one of my roommates in the kitchen, I was informed that there was, in fact, no storms anywhere near the Twin Cities. The radar showed nothing. The mystery vexed me. My blood was pumping. I HAD TO FIND OUT!

So, a smart person probably would have taken to the internet to see if there were any local events. Or, perhaps the clever person would. I'm on the tail end of a chiari migraine, go judge someone else. So, I threw myself into my car and headed out. The sounds were coming from the South East, so that's where I directed myself.

My plan was to hit the park that stretches along the river and see what I could see, or at least get my bearings and see if I was headed the right way.

I got a little shy of a quarter of the way when I saw the fireworks in the distance. I don't know what I was expecting, it sounded like fireworks. I was thinking it might be fireworks as I get in my car. Still, I was a mix of disappointed and curious. I was now going to get some photos and then take to the internet and figure out what it was later. Instead, I immediately hit traffic after seeing the fireworks. So, I was stuck in traffic when my roommate sends me a message saying it was the Aquatennial , some sort of celebration of the founding of the city, as far as I know.

So, I got stuck in traffic, period cramps killing me, tired, dizzy, and now getting hungry, and all for no storm photos. Did I mention I make good decisions? Because I make great decisions. I'm going to eat some pizza and cry.

[kayjaydee17]

Sorry I’m still thinking about Ed forgetting the diaper bag - because it’s Izzy and he’s still sort of used to Izzy having everything under control and he’s never been a bag person so it doesn’t feel natural to pick one up before leaving the house. Then there’s a mum there and he’s smiling at her and asking if she has a spare nappy and suddenly really hoping she doesn’t judge him or think he’s a bad dad because he ISNT and Izzy will back him up on that.

I think I headcanon Ed as such a.... not absent person, but absent-minded. He's good at big ideas, good at people, good at managing, and he can keep track of things that are essential, but... well, for so long, pretty much his whole life, Izzy was there to keep track of those essentials. He doesn't need to keep track of the finances and nitty-gritty of the bar because that was Izzy's job. And of course, of course, he forgets the diaper bag because, well, it didn't feel urgent in the moment. It's just a little outing with him and the kid, he's got the kid, what more does he need?

(A spare nappy. Baby powder. Wipes. A stuffie. A paci. A rattle and at least three other back-up toys in case Izzy is fussy today. A spare onesie in case of vomit and/or blowouts. A bottle with water. A sippy with water in case Izzy hates the bottle today. Crackers and chopped-up veggies. Sweeties in case there's a desperate need for bribery. A bib.)

Ed does love Izzy so much. I don't know if he loved big Izzy, or at least, I don't think he ever would have said he loved big Izzy. But this little Iz who needs him, who's so small and so sweet? Yeah, he adores him.

He's just... not great at all the bits and bobs sometimes.

(Stede is. Stede's great at all the little details. It's possibly why Izzy trusts him more.)

(An Ed I always come back to with regards to characterisation in these worlds is from the now-deleted no new babies. There was a moment in there where Izzy had to sit in a wet nappy in a traffic jam for ages because Ed hadn't packed any spares. It stuck with me so much.)