#in a room where it's nine in the afternoon.♡

[lovinggreeniehours]

can we talk about sundelaide

[stllmnstr]

all the things I never said

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers

word count: 7.3k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, heeseung is so romantic I want to die a little, a kiss that gets quite heated, this is very much unedited

note: happy (almost) Heeseung day! I hope you enjoy this little romantic take on childhood friends to lovers ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung has a secret.

It’s scribbled on a forgotten note, tucked away in a bottom drawer, carved with a shaky hand into the aging wood of his childhood treehouse. 

Sometimes, on cloudless nights, he looks up at the stars and tells them what he’s been hiding for so long. In response, the midnight sky twinkles in a way that looks all too much like laughter. 

On afternoons in late autumn, Heeseung whispers the truth to the wind and watches as it’s carried away with an array of dead leaves. 

A million little gestures. A thousand tiny moments that are inconsequential on their own. But when pieced together, string a story so obvious he’s not sure if his heart could ever handle it. 

But he’s not sure what would happen, if he shouted at the top of his lungs instead of confiding the world around him in hushed whispers. 

He’s a firm believer in balance and is terribly afraid that letting words drip from his tongue would only spell disaster.

So for now, he lets Mother Nature serve as his only confidant and hopes that she’ll keep her vows of silence.

There was a time, not all too long ago, when his secret wasn’t, well, a secret. When he used to speak freely and honestly without a fear of the future, without anxiety of repercussions.

But all secrets have their reasons, and all stories have a beginning.

For Heeseung, both begin on a rather ordinary afternoon in early summer nearly twelve years ago. 

…

Heeseung’s right palm is annoyingly sweaty. So much so that the shaky grip on his pencil is in danger of being lost. 

Half of his attention is directed towards the front of the classroom, where his fourth grade teacher reiterates the guidelines for the upcoming solar system project.

The other half is trained directly on the small white note currently clutched between Mina’s fingers. 

Even at nine, Heeseung knows she’s a terrible gossip that can’t be trusted. Just earlier today, she spent all of morning recess hounding poor Jake about his supposed crush on her best friend. She was unrelenting, no matter how fervently Jake denied the accusation or how crimson his cheekbones turned.

Unfortunately for Heeseung, she also sits directly between you and him. A particular stroke of cruelty on Mrs. Kim’s part, in Heeseung’s opinion, but the desk arrangement of his fourth grade classroom is the least for his worries at this point.

He swallows. A bead of sweat forms at the edge of his hairline. Late May has tumbled into his hometown with an unseasonable warmth, but that’s not the reason for his perspiration this afternoon.  

With an audible swallow, he locates the paper in his peripheral vision. 

Still clutched between Mina’s fingers. 

Mrs. Kim has turned her back at least three times since he handed the note off with very clear directions about who to give it to. There’s no reason Mina should still be turning it over between her sticky fingers.

Unless…

No. Heeseung won’t assume the worst. Not when it took him nearly the entire school year to work up the courage. 

With one final repetition of the project due date, Mrs. Kim slides off of her chair at the front of the room and walks to her desk tucked away in the opposite corner.

Heeseung’s heart skips a beat.

It’s the perfect opportunity, a golden window.

He glances at Mina, half terrified, half excited.

This is it. The moment he’s been waiting for. The moment he’s been mustering up courage for over the past six months. 

He’s doing it. It’s happening. It’s really happening.

And then, all at once, his excitement starts to transform. Starts to turn into dread before it morphs into worry. 

“Uh, Mrs. Kim?” It’s Mina’s voice. And Heeseung knew she liked to spread rumors, but he didn’t think that would extend to their teacher. 

Heeseung is panicking, trying to figure out a way to save face, to avoid the detention that is sure to come with the classroom crime of passing notes. 

Mrs. Kim looks up from her desk. Heeseung thinks he might pass out.

But then Mina says, “I don’t think ___ feels too good.”

For a moment, Heeseung basks in the relief of not having his secrets spilled in the middle of silent work time. But then, the words register. Form meaning in his mind. 

The loud screech of metal against linoleum rings out like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet classroom. Heeseung stands up from his seat with a ridiculous speech. It’s a miracle he didn’t know anything off his desk. And he didn’t mean to, not really, but he couldn’t see you around Mina sitting down.

At first glance, her appraisal seems to be correct. You’re pale, terribly so, and shaking slightly where you sit in your seat. 

Heeseung doesn’t realize his mistake until Mrs. Kim turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow and most of the class does the same. 

In the back corner, Jake and Sunghoon share a meaningful glance.

“Uh,” Heeseung stammers, “Sorry.” Red faced, he takes his seat again. This time, he’s more covert as he turns his gaze back to you. 

Mrs. Kim approaches your desk quickly. “Hi, Sweetie,” she greets in that voice she has reserved for scraped knees and other ailments. “Are you feeling okay?”

You shake your head. It’s a minuscule movement that Heeseung tracks intensely. 

Mrs. Kim lays a gentle hand across your forehead. “You’re burning up.” She frowns. “Why don’t you head down to the nurse? I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”

Again, you say nothing. The only response you give is a small nod as you gather the materials sprawled across your desk.

Heeseung watches, a little pathetically, as you place them carefully in your cubby before leaving through the door.

You do turn to look at him, just before you exit. When you find his eyes already trained on you, you give him a small smile.

Heeseung’s heart clenches. Whether in fear or anxiety or the same funny feeling that made him spill his heart in the note, he’s not entirely sure.

And then you’re gone. Heeseung makes a mental note to check in with you later, ride his bike the short distance between your neighborhoods and knock on your front door. Your mother is no stranger to his appearances at this point, after all. He won’t bug you, not if you’re resting. But he’ll check in on you, maybe bring you some tea or soup or flowers or whatever else grown ups always say is supposed to make you feel better when you’re sick. 

He’s so caught up in his sudden afternoon plans that he almost forgets the paper, the note, still sitting between Mina’s fingers. 

Oh well.

He’ll have to try another day, he supposes. It’s not fair to put anything else on your plate when you’re not feeling well.

Heeseung shifts in his seat, turns to ask Mina to just give him the note back. To his horror, she’s already begun to undo his careful folding. The kind of edges only someone who spends long afternoons doing origami with his grandmother could manage. 

“What are you doing?” Heeseung hisses, trying to shout without breaking a whisper.

Mina pays him no mind, swats the air like he’s nothing more than a buzzing fly. 

“Stop,” Heeseung pleads, “That’s not for y–”

But Mina doesn’t care. Much to his horror, she unfolds the note entirely, leaves it tucked discreetly beneath her desk.

Sparing one final glance at Mrs. Kim, she confirms that her attention is elsewhere. And then she reads it.

It’s unmistakable, the way her eyes scan over words that were never meant for her.

Heeseung has half a mind to cause another scene, stand up out of his seat again and snatch the note from her, detention be damned.

But it’s too late. The damage is done.

Mina turns to face him fully, a quizzical look pulling her brow downwards. She stares at him, eyes narrowed, appraising, as if this is the first time she’s seen him. 

And then she folds the note back up, tucks it away underneath her notebook. 

A million awful scenarios flash through Heeseung’s mind. Mina making copies of the note and distributing them to the entire class. Mina taking the note to Mrs. Kim and ratting him out. Mina making sure the entire school is privy to Heeseung’s secret before the day is done.

But in the end, he doesn’t need to worry about any of that. After an agonizing stretch of silent work time where Heeseung gets absolutely nothing done, Mina finds him outside the classroom at the water fountain. 

Heeseung is in the middle of downing a near concerning amount of lukewarm fountain water when she walks up next to him.

Lifting his head, Heeseung wipes the spare drops from his mouth.

“Here,” Mina hands him the note. She tried to fold it back up, but it was clearly done with inexperienced hands. The lines are no longer crisp, the edges no longer sharp. His work has been tainted.

“I…” Heeseung starts. Should he thank her? Beg her not to tell anyone? Plead with her not to tell you? 

Ultimately, he doesn’t need to. Mina cuts him off before he can get another word out.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Heeseung will believe it when he sees it, but maybe, just maybe, Mina will actually keep a secret to herself this time. 

Heeseung exhales a sigh of relief, tension draining from his shoulders. The victory is short lived.

“You shouldn’t give that to her, though.”

Heeseung balks, freezing for a moment. “What?”

“That note.” Mina nods towards the item in question, clutched between Heeseung’s white knuckles. “Don’t give it to ___.”

Heeseung’s brow furrows. He can’t decide whether he should be angry or confused. This was never meant to be something for Mina to pass judgment on. If he wanted her two cents, he would have asked. 

Still, he asks, “Why?”

Mina sighs, looks at him like he’s an orphaned panda in the local zoo. “Because she likes Jay, not you. Everyone knows about it. She gave him a Kit Kat on Valentine’s Day when everyone else just got a Hershey Kiss, and everyone knows that Kit Kats are better. Plus, she–”

Heeseung doesn’t hear the rest of it. It’s as if he’s suddenly been submerged in icy water. Frozen in his body as the world around him is muffled to a dull, indecipherable hum. His heart drops to his stomach; the world spins on its axis.

Jay. 

Jay?

Jay?

Heeseung likes Jay. He’s smart and kind and can play the guitar, which Heeseung can’t deny is incredibly cool. Too cool. So, painfully cool, and you must think so too. 

Heeseung wants to cry a little bit. Wants to scream. Wants to eat his feelings and his words and his incomplete confession until there’s nothing left of them and this whole terrible day is nothing but a faded, forgotten memory. 

Instead, he turns away from Mina mid-sentence and takes robotic steps back into the classroom. Slides down into his seat like he’s in a trance. Finished out the school day with his head in the clouds.

You don’t return to class. Heeseung assumes that you went home straight from the nurse’s office. 

And when Mrs. Kim catches him at the door and asks if he’d be willing to bring your backpack to you, all he can do is give a miserable, dejected nod. 

Mrs. Kim has the tact to not say anything, but she does notice. Especially since he’s usually jumping out of his seat at the opportunity to do anything remotely revolving you. 

She watches with a frown as he exits through the classroom door, head hung and shoulders slumped. Your backpack dangling uselessly between his fingers. 

The air outside is warm, uncharacteristically so for late May. But now it’s choking with something too. A humidity that clings to skin and feels foreboding, especially with the way clouds begin to gather overhead. 

Heeseung is halfway to your house when the rain begins. It’s thick, heavy, unforgiving in the way summer showers always are. 

When he dismounts his bike at the edge of your driveway, he’s in such a hurry to get your things to you before they’re soaked through that he doesn't notice the small, white paper that falls out of his pocket with the motion. 

Just as he predicted, your mother greets him at the door. She’s thankful for your school things and mildly horrified at the dripping wet child on her doorstep. She offers him a towel and a ride home in her car, both of which Heeseung declines politely. 

By the time he finishes the ride home, he is well and truly soaked. He’s grateful, at least, for the way rain disguised the singular tear track that stains his left cheek.

And later than night, dry and warm and alone, he lets one more tear fall. Laying against his pillow, it’s warm where it gathers in the corner of his eye, salty as it breaches the barrier of his top lip.

And then he makes a decision. Despair will do him no good, and it’s not like anything has changed, not really. 

It’s you that he values, your presence and your friendship and your smiles. He won’t lose those things, even if you save all your Kit Kats for Jay. Even if he has to banish the butterflies in his stomach and hope they don’t escape. Even if he has to pretend his heart doesn’t hurt a little every time he looks at you. 

But summer is coming soon and his year in fourth grade is nearly done. There are lots of things to look forward to, and you’ll still be just a short bike ride away. Even if your heart suddenly feels unreachable.

When Heeseung falls asleep that night, his sleep is dreamless and undisturbed.

And a handful of neighborhoods away, a small white piece of paper sinks to the bottom of a puddle. Soaked from the rain and worse for wear, the careful writing is nearly unintelligible. 

But if someone wanted to, if they really tried, they just might be able to make out the message. 

Dear ___, it reads.

I think you have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen. I like the way your hair looks in the sun, and I’m glad we’re in the same class. I couldn’t decide how to tell you, so I think I’ll just write it here. I like you. I think you’re pretty and smart and nice and I like you a lot. Can I buy you ice cream at the shop at the end of your street? We can eat it together. :)

Sinceerly,

Sincerely,

Heeseung

…..

The early afternoon sun glints off the ocean in a way that’s almost blinding. Seated on a faded beach towel that’s more sand than fabric at this point, Heeseung readjusts his sunglasses. They sit on the bridge of his nose and do less to shield his wandering gaze than he thinks. 

He reaches for the tote bag a few feet away from him, hands in search of the extra strength sunscreen his mom packed two bottles of and reminded him no less than fifty times to reapply. Heeseung figures now’s as good a time as any to follow her instructions. He’s half afraid she’ll actually wring his neck if he comes back sunburnt with his first day of eighth grade just around the corner. 

Besides, the current object of his attention is down at the water’s edge. Heeseung thanks his lucky stars you’re too preoccupied with searching for seashells to watch as he slathers a ridiculously high SPF sunscreen all over his face.

Early August has been milder than late July, but the air is still heavy with a heat that’s almost oppressive. He has half a mind to join you in the water for a reprieve from the weather if nothing else. 

Despite himself, Heeseung’s eyes never stray far from you. Disaster of a fourth-grade confession aside, he likes to think he’s done a decent job of keeping his feelings close to his chest. Not that they’ve ever changed much, to be honest. 

He’s old enough now, far enough into the painfully awkward clutches of puberty to put more words to the way his heart always feels a little funny whenever you’re near. 

He has a crush. 

A high school, sweaty palm, awkward conversations at your locker between periods crush. 

But Heeseung is a master of disguise and this is no exception. For the last six years, he’s held up his side of your steady friendship with nothing outside the realm of platonic. 

Even if his gaze always tends to linger a little too long, even if he spends most of every middle school dance standing on the sidelines imaging you asking him to join you, even if he never has quite been able to look at Jay the same way, he’s happy to be your friend. Content in the comfortable routines between the two of you. The easy kind of closeness that comes with growing up with someone. 

For better or for worse, he knows you like the back of his hand. And you know him just as well. Besides the one secret he never can quite bring himself to divulge, that is. 

On a towel a few feet away, Sunghoon glances at Heeseung. Follows his gaze and is less than surprised to find that his lovesick puppy eyes are trained squarely on your shoulders. 

Sunghoon nudges Jake, wordlessly gesturing to Heeseung with a jerk of his chin. Jake follows the movement, traces the same line of sight Sunghoon noticed just moments ago. 

The two boys share a look and then an eye roll. 

It’s been the same old story since their shared days in Mrs. Kim’s fourth grade class, and Sunghoon is growing weary of witnessing this same old song and dance never reach any kind of conclusion. 

Sunghoon clears his throat. Heeseung doesn’t notice. 

A bit louder this time, Sunghoon says, “Hey, Heeseung.”

That finally gets his attention, even if it does take him a comically long time to take his eyes off of you. “Yeah?”

“You could, oh, I don’t know, just talk to her, you know.” 

“What?” Sunghoon can’t tell if his confusion is genuine or if he’s suddenly become a fantastic actor. “Who?”

“Is that a joke? ___. Who else?”

Heeseung’s brow furrows. “___?” He echoes. “I talk to her all the time. I invited her today.”

“Yeah, okay, but I mean really talk to her.”

“I don’t know how you think we communicate, but I did ‘really talk to her’ when I asked if she wanted to come to the beach t–”

Jake sighs. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take. “He’s saying you should tell her that you like her, idiot.” 

“What?” Heeseung splutters. “I don’t… I don’t like ____,” he insists in a way that is not at all convincing. 

“Right,” Sunghoon nods. “And I’m going to pass algebra with an A next semester.”

“We’re friends.” Despite himself, Heeseung glances at you again out of the corner of his eye. His stomach gives a very unfriendly flip, but the two boys next to him don’t need to know that. 

“I don’t get why you’re still so weird about it.” Sunghoon shakes his head. “You’ve literally been obsessed with her since, like, fourth grade.”

“Yeah,” Jake nods. “Remember that day she got sick in class and he nearly knocked his chair over because he stood up so fast—”

“I was worried about my friend,” Heeseung insists, desperate to change the topic. That day is a particularly sore memory for more than one reason. “I would have done the same for either of you.” 

“Uh, no thanks.” Sunghoon shakes his head. 

“I’ll pass too,” Jake agrees. “You can save all that lovesick shit for—” 

“Lovesick?” a voice interrupts. “Who’s lovesick?” 

Three sets of eyes turn to you, two colored in mild humor and one tinged with abject horror. 

Sunghoon reaches over with devious intent in his grin. Patting Heeseung on the shoulder, he responds, “Well, your friend Heeseung here—”

“Heard Jungwon talking about a new girl he met this summer.” Heeseung interjects desperately, pausing only to send his two friends a withering glare. “I guess he’s super into her.”

“Oh, really?” Oblivious to the sighs of frustration Sunghoon and Jake exchange, you slide down in the seat next to Heeseung. “Good for him. Between school and dance and taekwondo, I thought he’d always be too busy to meet someone.” 

Nudging the boy next to you, you add, “Kinda like someone else I know. I’m surprised you had time for the beach today with basketball starting so soon.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t. Heeseung should be at the court near his house right now, practicing layups. At the very least, he should be going for a run or getting some pre-season cardio in. 

But you’ve been mentioning wanting to go on one last trip to the beach before the school year starts for weeks now, and Heeseung has never been good at denying you much. Well, other than access to his real feelings, that is. 

Feigning a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, Heeseung shrugs. “I can take a day off every now and then.” 

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow. Because I heard that a certain someone asked you to the movies last week and you said you were too busy,”

For you. Heeseung should have clarified. I can take a day off for you.  

“What?” Sunghoon pipes up. “Who?”

“No one,” Heeseung grumbles. 

Rolling your eyes, you lean over him, angling your face towards Sunghoon conspiratorially. “Her name rhymes with Schmarina.”

“Dude!” This time, it’s Jake who slaps him on the shoulder. “Karina asked you out and you said no? Are you stupid?”

“No,” Heeseung protests. “She didn’t even ask me out. It wasn’t like that.”

“Mhmm.” Sarcasm drips from your voice. “That’s not what Mina said.”

That absolute gossip. “RIght, because you can always trust what Mina says.”

“Sunoo confirmed it too.”

“He’s just as bad!”

“Okay, okay.” You raise your hands in mock surrender. “I’ll drop it. But if she does ever ask you out, I think you should say yes.”

Heeseung forces his features into neutrality. Tries to conceal the fact that your words feel a little bit like a thousand knives stabbing him right in the heart. Ends up looking a little bit constipated. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonish. “She’s really sweet.”

Heeseung’s sure she is. He just doesn’t care. Karina could be the kindest, nicest, sweetest girl on planet earth and he would still find a reason to let her down gently. But he can’t exactly tell you that, not when it would only lead to more questions that he is not ready to answer. 

Instead, he just shrugs again. A non response. A hopeful end to the conversation. 

Luckily, you take his silence as a sign to divert, even if Jake and Sunghoon are still sitting flabbergasted right next to the two of you. 

“Speaking of basketball,” you redirect the subject. “I heard that East High’s team is supposed to be really strong this year.” They’re your high school’s biggest rival and the primary reason Heeseung spends so much of his free time on the court. They’re also the reason his coach is already giving speeches about the importance of winning this year’s opening game. 

“I figured you might need a little extra luck.”

Sunghoon chokes on a laugh. “C’mon, ____. Cut him some slack. He’s not that bad at basketball.”

“What?” You frown. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Turning back to Heeseung, you clarify. “I promise it’s not. I know you’re, like, insanely good. I just…” You trail off. Heeseung is too busy trying not to explode from the compliment to notice the way your cheeks go slightly pink. “I just saw this when I was down at the water.”

Hastily, you shove your outstretched palm beneath his nose. Encased in your hand is a fully intact, unblemished, perfectly round sand dollar. “It’s supposed to be good luck to find them unbroken,” you explain. “It made me think of you. Uh, I mean, of basketball,” you’re quick to amend. 

“Right,” Heeseung can barely hear you over the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears. “For basketball.”

“For basketball,” you nod. 

But when his fingers accidentally brush the skin of your palm as he accepts your good luck charm, basketball is the last thing on his mind. 

And when he tucks the sand dollar into the bottom drawer of his dresser for safekeeping later that night, he finally lets the giant, unrestrained smile he’s been holding in all day take over his entire face. 

…..

Heeseung’s head is spinning. 

And maybe it’s the late summer heat or dregs of the too sweet wine cooler that are getting to him. But neither of those have the ability to fuck with him as much of the sight of you in a sundress does. 

A sundress. A real, proper, flowy, honest to god sundress. 

Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever felt more insane in his life. 

It doesn’t help that this is the first time he’s seen you in months. Going from classmates to students at different universities has been a difficult transition to say the least. But your friendship has weathered a lot, and this is no exception. 

It doesn’t matter that the thoughts Heeseung is having right now are very much not friendly. He’s been dealing with those for the better part of a decade too. 

But it feels different tonight. 

You’re older. He’s older. The two of you have grown and changed and matured and the feelings he harbors have started to feel a little less like a crush. 

And a lot more like something with far more devastating consequences. 

You’ve always been pretty. The prettiest girl in the world in his eyes. 

But tonight, in the fading glow of another late sunset, looking at you is almost painful. 

Heeseung wishes for a lot of things. He wishes it was just the two of you here. Mostly because he can see Sunghoon and Jake making vulgar gestures in the background every time his gaze lingers on you a little too long. And that happens a lot. 

He wishes that he was a better friend. That he could give you the support and undivided attention and platonic love that you deserve. That he wasn’t always keeping it guarded behind his fear of revealing too much. Of ruining the best relationship he’s even built in his nineteen years of life. 

And sometimes, in his weaker moments, he wishes that he could go back to the fourth grade. He would tell Mina to give her opinion to someone that asked for it and give you that letter. He wonders if things would be different. How they would be different. 

In his favorite dreams, you returned his feelings, even back then. The two of you grew up skirting that line the way teenagers do. And then, when you were ready, it turned into something real. Something honest. Something he doesn’t have to hide. 

But in his moments of fear, Mina was right. Your attention was somewhere else and his note becomes nothing but an embarrassing memory. Something the two of you never overcome. Something that prevents you from forming friendship at all. 

That, Heeseung decides, no matter how much he might sometimes wish thing were different, will never be worth the risk. 

So he does what he always does. He keeps his feelings close to his chest and nurses another warm beer along with a wounded heart. 

Across the yard, Heeseung watches you laugh at something Jay says. It’s real laugh, the kind that makes your eyes twinkle and makes his head spin. 

Jay. He can’t help the way his grip tightens against the bottle in his hand. Who even invited him tonight? 

It’s not like anything ever came of Mina’s prediction. As far as he knows, you’ve never so much as given Jay another Kit Kat. But the sight of the two of you together still has an ugly green monster rearing its head. 

Eventually, the evening, as all evenings do, starts to draw to its inevitable end. 

You catch Heeseung’s eye across the yard just as everyone is bidding their farewells. Silently, you jerk your chin, motioning him over. 

Putty in your grip, Heeseung complies with no trace of resistance. 

When he finally reaches you, you don’t offer much of an explanation. Instead, you just motion for him to follow you again. 

“For old time’s sake,” is all you say. 

But it’s not much of a hint. After all, the two of you have memories scattered across this entire city. Tucked in alleys and street corners and shops. Safekept in all of your favorite childhood destinations. Forged in Heeseung’s memory. 

Finally, the two of you reach the edge of a small stretch of forest. A place the two of you used to visit whenever the rest of the world just felt like a little too much to bear. A place where you discovered the small treehouse you lead him to now. 

Wordlessly, you outstretch your hand, encasing his grip in your own. Heeseung has already begun to lose remnants of his boyhood. His features are losing their youthful roundess, are sharpening into a face that unmistakably belongs to a man. 

But with his hand in yours, he feels nine again. Nursing the unsteady heartbeat and sweaty palms that come with a first crush. 

When the two of you finally reach the top of the ladder, you ease your way through the opening first. 

You’ve nearly outgrown this place. The two of you have to hunch slightly to avoid hitting the roof with your heads. 

“Remember coming here that day my cat ran away?” You’re not looking at him, gaze wandering around the space, collecting memories like souvenirs. 

“Mr. Mittens,” Heeseung nods. “How could I forget?” 

“I still think he’s out there somewhere. He couldn’t forgive my dad when he stopped giving him table scraps.” Your tone is light, teasing. 

But the space is small and it leaves no choice but for the two of you to sit close. So close. Too close. Not nearly close enough. 

Still, Heeseung does his best to maintain his composure. “Mm,” he agrees. “I’m sure he’s very happy now. Probably eating leftovers as we speak.”

The conversation drifts into silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is charged. Fraught with something Heeseung’s been trying to ignore for the last ten years. 

“Heeseung?” Your voice is small. He feels it as much as he hears it. 

“Yeah?” He doesn’t mean to sound so breathless, but he can’t help it. Not here. Not now.

“I missed you.” 

For a moment, it’s all he can do to stare at you. He missed you too. So much it hurt. But it feels like he’s been missing you for years now. Missing something he’s never allowed himself to ask for. 

“I mean, I knew I would.” You drop your gaze now, toying with the hem of your dress. “And I know we still texted and called a lot, but there were so many times when I just wished you were there with me, you know?”

He does. He does. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung nods, jaw working. He swallows hard. His voice sounds scraped raw. “I felt the exact same.”

You meet his gaze again. Hold it for a moment. And then another. Heeseung watches as your lips part, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. 

For a second, he thinks you’re about to say something else. But then you shake your head. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But he sees it. He always does. 

Diverting the subject, you ease some of the tension. “Do you have anything sharp?”

“Sharp?” he echoes. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Instead of explaining, you reach for a rock next to your knee. Holding it up, you grin at him. “This should work.”

Scooting closer to the interior wall of the treehouse, you begin your handiwork. After a couple of minutes, you sit back on your heels, satisfied. 

“What do you think?” You turn over your shoulder to glance at him. 

Heeseung thinks a lot of things. He thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do in this very moment, this exact second. He thinks his heart might actually be beating loud enough for it to be audible. He thinks he’s not going to survive another semester away from you. 

He thinks he might be in love. 

And when his eyes settle on the wall over your shoulder, he knows he is. 

Because there, in the respite of your childhood treehouse, you’ve carved both of your initials into the wood and framed them with a slightly lopsided heart. 

It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s his favorite thing he’s ever seen. Well, he amends as his gaze slides back to you, it’s his second favorite, maybe. 

“It’s perfect,” he tells you. 

A handful of minutes later, when you find yourself approaching his doorstep, Heeseung notices the way you suppress a shiver against the slight chill of the gentle night time breeze. For him, it’s the most natural thing in the world to offer you a sweatshirt. Something to keep you warm while he walks you home. 

You’re no stranger to the inside of his bedroom, but Heeseung’s heart still jumps regardless. It’s so intimate, the way you navigate his space like it’s your own. The way you sit down on the edge of his bed without thinking anything of it. 

“Bottom drawer,” Heeseung nods towards his dresser. He rearranged while packing for his dorm. “I have a few sweatshirts in there. You can take any of them.”

Nodding, you stand from his bed, quiet footsteps tracing a path over to the dresser. But when you open the bottom drawer a moment later, it’s not a sweatshirt you hold in your hands. 

“You still have this?” There’s a bit of wonder in your voice. A soft edge that Heeseung would read more into if he wasn’t suddenly panicking. 

It’s the sand dollar, he realizes. The one you gave him all those years ago. A good luck charm. Stupid, how could he be so stupid to forget that he left it in that drawer too? 

It’s not damning evidence of anything, not really. But it’s late and he’s tired and you’re still in that fucking dress. Logic was never going to be anything but a losing game. 

“Of course,” Heeseung admits. “We won every game that season.” 

You know. You were there to watch all of them. 

“Heeseung?” Something in your tone has all of his attention zeroing in on you. Maybe it’s the strange stroke of timidness. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve always commanded his focus, even when you’re not trying. 

“Yeah?” That breathlessness is back. Heeseung can’t find it in himself to curse it. 

You’re still standing across the room from him. The sand dollar enclosed in your gentle grip. When you finally tear your gaze away from it, it’s to look Heeseung in the eye. 

“Can I…?” You’re unsure. Shy. Heeseung has seen a whole lot of you, but he has no idea what to do with this. 

“Can I try something?” Your teeth are worrying at your bottom lip like the words taste bitter. Like you can’t decide whether you regret them or not. 

Heeseung would give you the world if you asked for it, but he knows better. 

He’ll play his cards the same way he always has. 

“Try what?”

You don’t answer him. Not with words, at least. 

Instead, you begin to trace a steady path towards him. The sand dollar is still in your hand. Heeseung’s heart is still in his throat. The hem of your dress brushes gently against the bare expanse of your thigh, just about your knee. 

You’re standing right in front of him now. There’s less than a foot of emptiness between you. Heeseung has no idea what to do with that liminal space. He can’t decide whether he should close it or widen it until his brain starts to function again. 

“Is this weird?” you whisper. 

It is. It is. 

“No.”

“Okay,” you nod. You avert your gaze, buying time. “Good.”

He watches your chest rise with an unsteady inhale. Fall with a shaky exhale. 

You bend to set the sand dollar down on the floor to the left of you. 

And then your hand is on his shoulder. Gripping lightly, like you need the support. 

Close. You’re so fucking close. 

And with every passing heartbeat, you’re only getting closer. 

Without meaning to, Heeseung is screwing his eyes shut. 

Later, he’ll regret it. Not committing every possible detail to memory. 

But right now, any semblance of logic is lost with the shreds of sanity he’s been dropping at your feet for the past ten years. 

With the sureness of a steady thing, you ruin them all in one fell swoop.

And then your lips are on his. 

It’s a gentle pressure. Light. No expectations, no demands. No promises or secrets or vows. But the hand on his shoulder is gripping harder now. 

And the second Heeseung regains control of his limbs, he mirrors your action. One hand finds the notch at the bottom of your spine and the other pushes hair away from your temple. 

You’re gentle, unsure. You’re afraid you’re crossing a foolish boundary, ruining a friendship you cherish. 

But Heeseung has been warring with every thought that’s crossed his mind for years, and he can’t find it in himself to be patient now. There’s no hesitation when he pulls you closer. No semblance of restraint when he presses his mouth against yours more firmly, when he swallows the shallow gasp you give him and then begs for more. 

Restraint is all he’s ever known but there’s nothing left of it now. 

When he feels your lips part against his own, he takes it as an invitation. An opening. An offering he’s only ever been afforded in his favorite dreams. 

But this is different. It’s better. You’re real. So fucking tangible and his hands can’t decide where to go next. 

They make quick work of tracing your spine, your neck, your collarbone. But he’s greedy and he’s desperate and he wants his hands as full of you as his mind is. 

It’s not long before fingers are slipping under the flimsy strap of your dress, forging a path that he follows with his lips. 

He hears you sigh, feels the whisper of breath against his hair. And then he hears you whimper. 

A long, drawn out plea that sounds all too much like “Heeseung.”

He shudders, all the way down to his toes. And then he’s pulling you backwards, flipping your positioning so that your spine is pressed against the wall of his bedroom. 

One hand rests above your shoulder, the other beside your head. He sets his forehead against your own, eyes still screwed shut. His heartbeat races in time with the shallow breath in his chest. 

“You have to tell me to stop.” His voice is raw, ragged. “You have to tell me to stop before I fucking lose it.”

“What if I want you to?”

He’s dead. He has to be. Caught in a purgatory of his own making, stuck between a heaven and hell perfectly curated for his ruination.  

“We can’t—” You could, and that’s what makes it so impossible. 

But for Heeseung, this is the culmination of a decade of repressed feelings. Of fleeting touches and lingering gazes and first crushes and the realization that he’s been carrying love with him before he knew what to call it. 

He has no idea what this is for you. 

“I have to know what you’re thinking.” It’s barely a whisper. His voice nearly cracks on the last syllable. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more scared in his life. 

Quietly, your hand finds the base of his neck. Your fingertips trace his skin, a soothing rhythm that does little to quiet the war in his mind. But it does tether him to the moment, anchors him in the present. 

You whisper, and he feels your breath against his swollen lips. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t,” he shakes his head. It’s a lie. He’s terrified. 

“But what if—”

“I’m in love with you.” It was always going to be him that confessed first. It had to be. “I’ve been in love with you since we were nine years old.” It’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest, as if the world around him is a little lighter now. “You won’t scare me.”

You break the contact of your foreheads, and Heeseung misses your touch the second it’s gone. He’s grateful for the hand that still traces gentle circles on the skin of his nape. 

You use the distance you’ve created to look him in the eye. Searching for any trace of dishonesty, you find nothing but a long held secret, a well-guarded truth. 

“You love me?” You don’t even have to ask. You can see it in his eyes. 

“More than you know.”

“Good,” you whisper, an echo from before. “Because I love you.”

When he kisses you this time, it’s softer. Gentler. The urgency in his gut is still there, but it’s been quieted a bit. Replaced with a distinct sort of fondness he does his best to communicate with touch. 

Love. He spells it with every breath that spills against your own. 

Love. He imbes it into every touch against bare skin. 

Love. He whispers it in your ear and shudders when you do the same. 

Because that sand dollar isn’t stuck in his bottom drawer anymore, hidden away from the light. It’s here, in the openness of his childhood bedroom. A truth between the two of you. 

And when he picks it up again later, he sets it on top of the dresser. Where he and you and anyone else that might pass by can see it. 

…..

Lee Heeseung has a secret. 

It’s whispered in practice runs with Jake and Sunghoon, imagined on the nights he pulls you closer to him as he drifts off to sleep, hidden away in a small, nondescript black box in the back of his closet. 

But Heeseung isn’t nine anymore. He’s not fifteen or nineteen.

He’s twenty-six, and he’s learned a thing or two about secrets. 

So this time, he only holds this one for a month, only carries it with him for a handful of weeks before he divulges. 

And when he does finally get you right where he wants you, back in that same too small treehouse, his secret spills easily. 

Even though his voice is shaky, even though his hands tremble with overflowing nerves. 

He can’t drop to one knee, not exactly. And he nearly drops the little black box when he pulls it from his coat pocket. 

But the ring slides onto your left hand without a hint of resistance. And the stone flickers in dying daylight like it was meant just for you. 

This time, he doesn’t hide behind a note or a sand dollar or even a kiss. 

Instead, he looks you in the eye when he tells you loves you. 

He smiles, a hopeful thing, when he asks you to marry him. 

All the things he never said, every word he never told you, are all here, now. 

Every second of torment, every moment of agony suddenly feel brand new. 

But when you tell him yes, your eyes shining with unshed tears that match his own, he thinks that they just might have all been worth it. 

And when you tell him, for the thousandth time, that you love him, he knows that they were. 

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I am still working on sacred monsters, but I wanted to put out something cute for Heeseung's birthday and I had a big chunk of this already sitting in my drafts. I mentioned at the beginning, but this is unedited, so please forgive any little mistakes you saw.

all the love ♡

[iamgonnagetyouback]

childhood sweethearts and paper rings

james potter x reader where you both realize your love through paper rings

↬ word count : 3,438 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : fluff overload, pining, a sprinkle of angst but resolved quickly, excessive paper rings

↬ inspired from : (a bit) ➺ paper rings by taylor swift ♡

↬ author's note : childhood best friends to lovers is james potter’s ultimate trope. argue with the wall.

navigation┆james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

James Potter was seven years old when he decided that he was going to marry you. He didn’t understand much about marriage—only that it meant you’d be together forever, which sounded like the best thing in the world. After all, you were his best friend, and if forever wasn’t you, then who else could it be for?

The Potters and your family were close friends, and most weekends, you were bundled into the fireplace to floo to their house. James would meet you on the other side, grinning wildly and already tugging your arm to drag you outside. The two of you were inseparable, whether you were building forts in the garden or chasing each other around with toy brooms.

“Sunny, you’re supposed to catch it!” James exclaimed one summer afternoon as he tossed a quaffle your way. His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them up impatiently.

“I’m trying!” you yelled back, laughing as the ball sailed past your outstretched arms. You were too busy giggling to notice James running to retrieve it. He came back with dirt on his knees and his hair even messier than usual.

“We’ll practice until you’re as good as me,” he declared, puffing out his chest in mock importance.

You scrunched up your nose, sticking your tongue out at him. “What if I don’t want to be good at Quidditch? What if I want to be the best cake-eater in the world?”

James grinned, his own cheeks turning pink. “Then I’ll be the second-best. We can do it together.”

By the time you were eight, James had discovered the fine art of crafting paper rings. It started when he saw his mum making origami flowers for a party. Naturally, he wasn’t allowed near the good parchment—but his dad handed him some scraps, and the rest was history.

The first paper ring James gave you was lopsided, crumpled at the edges, and had a faint ink smudge from where he’d tried to draw a flower on it. You’d accepted it with wide, delighted eyes, slipping it onto your finger like it was made of gold.

“What’s this for?” you’d asked, holding it up to inspect the crooked folds.

“It’s…” James hesitated, suddenly bashful. “It’s a promise. You’re my best friend, and I’ll always be there for you.”

You grinned so brightly he thought his chest might burst. “I’ll always be there for you too, Jamie!” you chirped, and the name stuck, much to his parents’ amusement.

At nine, you and James built a treehouse. Or at least, you started to. James had insisted on using magic, and after much begging and wheedling, his mum had charmed a few planks of wood into place.

“It’ll be our secret hideout,” James said as you hammered nails into the rickety ladder.

“For what?” you asked, holding the ladder steady. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, and there was a streak of mud on your cheek, but you couldn’t have been happier.

“For… secret plans,” James decided. “Like how we’ll sneak extra pudding without anyone noticing.”

You beamed. “And maybe we can put all the paper rings here too. Like a treasure chest!”

He thought that was the best idea ever.

By ten, James had made you more paper rings than either of you could count. Some were decorated with little doodles, others with clumsy attempts at flowers or hearts. You kept them all in a shoebox under your bed, treasuring them like the precious artifacts they were.

One rainy afternoon, you and James sat cross-legged on the rug in his room, watching the droplets streak down the window.

“Sunny,” James said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Do you know what love is?”

You tilted your head, considering. “Not really. I think it’s when someone makes you really happy. Like my mum when she bakes my favorite cookies.”

James nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. I think it’s when someone does things for you. Like… like when you gave me the bigger half of your pie last week.”

You grinned, your toothy smile making his cheeks heat up. “Then I think love is when you gave me your scarf when I was cold.”

He grinned back, lopsided and bright. “Maybe love is when we’re best friends forever.”

When you turned eleven, everything began to change. A letter arrived, delivered by an official-looking owl, and James practically dragged you across the room to celebrate.

“We’re going to Hogwarts together!” he exclaimed, lifting you off the ground in his excitement. “This is going to be the best year ever!”

You squealed, clutching onto him as he spun you around. “Jamie, I’m so excited!”

Later that day, he gave you another paper ring. It was neater this time, folded carefully with gold-trimmed parchment he’d begged off his mum.

“This one’s special,” James said solemnly as you slipped it onto your finger.

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Because it’s the last one before Hogwarts,” he said. “But I’ll make you loads more when we’re there.”

You beamed, clutching the ring to your chest. “Best friends forever?”

“Forever,” he promised.

And that was the thing about James Potter. Even when he didn’t fully understand what love was, he knew one thing: it was always going to be you.

At Hogwarts, you quickly became part of the infamous Marauders. James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and you. Whether it was sneaking into the kitchens for late-night snacks or plotting pranks on the Slytherins, the five of you were inseparable.

James had a knack for getting the group into trouble, and you had a knack for talking your way out of it.

“It’s not my fault Snape looks so funny when his robes turn pink,” James argued one day, as you all hid in an empty classroom after a particularly successful prank.

“You used an entire bottle of dye,” Remus pointed out dryly, though he was biting back a smile.

“Totally worth it,” Sirius said, high-fiving James.

Peter chuckled nervously. “Do you think he’ll ever figure out it was us?”

“Who cares?” you said, laughing. “Jamie, you’re brilliant.”

James beamed at your praise, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face.

But while James was fearless in most things, there was one subject that turned him into a bumbling mess: Lily Evans, although you understood the feeling, cause she was gorgeous.

“Merlin’s beard, just look at her,” James sighed dreamily one afternoon as the five of you sat under a tree by the Black Lake. Lily was a few yards away, reading a book and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re staring again,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

James turned red. “I am not!”

“You absolutely are,” Sirius chimed in, smirking. “If you’re going to pine, at least do it with some dignity, Prongs.”

“I’m not pining!” James protested, though his voice cracked slightly.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You drew a heart with her initials in your Transfiguration notes yesterday.”

“I did not!” James said, horrified.

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “You did. I saw it too.”

You burst out laughing, leaning into James as he groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Jamie, it’s okay to have a crush. Especially if it's on Evans. I do too but the difference is you’re terrible at hiding it.”

“You lot are the worst,” he muttered, though he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

Despite the relentless teasing, you were always James’ biggest supporter. When he finally worked up the courage to ask Lily out in your fifth year, you were the one who gave him the pep talk beforehand.

“You’re James Potter,” you said firmly, gripping his shoulders. “You’re charming, funny, and completely brilliant. If she doesn’t say yes, it’s her loss.”

James smiled nervously. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said confidently.

And even though a small part of you felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite name, you pushed it aside. Because James was your best friend, and you’d always be there for him—just like he’d always be there for you.

It happened gradually, so slowly that you didn’t notice at first. The paper rings, once a constant in your life, became fewer and fewer. By sixth year, they stopped altogether. You told yourself it didn’t matter—after all, you and James were still thick as thieves. He was busy with Quidditch, the Marauders, and his relentless pursuit of Lily Evans.

But deep down, you missed them.

Then one day, an owl from your parents arrived during breakfast in the Great Hall. You tore open the envelope eagerly, only to feel your stomach drop as you read the letter.

The treehouse at the Potters burned down.

Your chest ached as you reread the words. The treehouse, your secret hideout, the place where you’d kept all the paper rings James had ever given you—gone. Reduced to ashes.

You left the Great Hall in a daze, clutching the letter as tears blurred your vision. It wasn’t just a treehouse. It was years of memories, laughter, and promises that now felt lost forever. You needed to tell James. He would understand.

You found him in the courtyard, a broad grin on his face as he spoke animatedly to Lily. She was laughing, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, and for a moment, you hesitated.

Then you saw it: a paper ring in his hand. Your heart clenched painfully as he turned it over in his fingers, showing it to Lily with the same excitement he’d once reserved for you.

You felt a lump form in your throat. It was silly, really. You’d known for years that James fancied Lily. You’d encouraged him, teased him, supported him. And yet, seeing him with a paper ring—your paper ring—meant for her…

It felt like losing a part of yourself.

You turned on your heel and walked away before he could see you, the letter crumpled in your hand. As you hurried back to the common room, you tried to push the image from your mind, but it clung stubbornly.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Maybe Lily had finally agreed to a date. Maybe the ring wasn’t even for her. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But the ache in your chest told a different story.

You didn’t sleep much that night. The weight of the treehouse’s destruction—and the memories it held—pressed heavily on your chest. When morning came, you dragged yourself to breakfast, your usual bubbly demeanor dimmed.

James was already there, sitting with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, recounting some Quidditch play. He caught sight of you as you approached, and his grin faltered.

“Morning, sunny,” he greeted, nudging the bench beside him. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

You plopped down next to him, twisting the edge of your sleeve. “James… the..the treehouse, it burned down.”

His face froze, confusion quickly giving way to shock. “What?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

You handed him the crumpled letter. He read it, his expression shifting to heartbreak. “Our treehouse? The one we built with my mum’s old cushions and all the fairy lights?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “All the paper rings… they were in there, James.”

For a moment, he just stared at the letter. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you like they used to when you were kids, and you buried your face in his shoulder, letting the familiar scent of parchment and pine comfort you.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think—I didn’t realize—”

You missed the way his breath hitched, his soft oh of realization. Missed the quick glance he threw across the table to Lily, whose knowing gaze met his. Her lips curled into the faintest smile, as if she understood something neither of you had quite pieced together yet.

But you were too caught up in the hug, too lost in your own heartbreak to notice anything else.

James Potter was not one to do things halfway. The moment he realized how much those paper rings had meant to you, he made it his mission to bring them back into your life in abundance. It started small—a single paper ring folded neatly and tucked into your Potions book during class.

“James,” you whispered, holding it up with an amused smile. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Trouble’s my middle name,” he whispered back, grinning mischievously before turning back to Slughorn’s lecture like he hadn’t just slid a tiny masterpiece of folded parchment into your life.

But James Potter didn’t stop at small. Soon, the paper rings started appearing everywhere. One in your bag during Transfiguration. Another tucked into your scarf at breakfast. A stack of them slid under your pillow one night. He even charmed one to float down from the owlery like a paper snowflake as you walked past.

The grandest moment came during Defense Against the Dark Arts. James, thinking he was being discreet, crept over to your desk mid-lecture to slip a particularly colorful ring onto your parchment. Just as he leaned down, a shadow loomed over both of you.

“Ahem,” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the room like a knife. The class went silent, every head swiveling to witness James Potter caught red-handed.

James straightened, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Just delivering a very important piece of classwork, Professor,” he said smoothly, holding up the paper ring as if it were a prized essay.

McGonagall’s lips twitched, though she worked hard to suppress a smile. “Very well, Mr. Potter. But if I catch you again, you’ll be writing lines until your quill runs out of ink.”

“Yes, Professor,” James said solemnly, though his wink to Sirius betrayed him.

As McGonagall turned back to the blackboard, you swore you saw her glance over her shoulder and wink—wink—at you. For a moment, you questioned your sanity.

By the end of the week, you had more paper rings than you knew what to do with. You didn’t have the heart to throw them away—not after all the effort James had gone to—so you started collecting them in an old chocolate box you found in your dorm.

Every night, you added the day’s rings to the collection, tracing your fingers over the creases and folds as you smiled to yourself. It was ridiculous, really. They were just bits of paper, after all. But each one felt like a tiny promise—a reminder of a boy who made the world brighter simply by being in it.

It was another morning at the Gryffindor table, and James was unusually quiet. Normally, he’d be drumming his fingers on the table, bantering with Sirius, or laughing at something Peter said. But today, he was poking at his eggs, lost in thought.

Remus noticed first. Of course, he did. “You haven’t mentioned Lily in a while,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened? Did she finally hex you into silence?”

Sirius barked a laugh, and Peter snorted into his pumpkin juice. But James just shrugged, looking nonchalant.

“Oh, yeah, about that,” he said casually, as if he weren’t about to drop a bombshell. “Well… that’s not happening.”

Your fork clattered onto your plate. “Really?” you blurted, a little too loudly. You immediately ducked your head, heat rushing to your cheeks.

James smirked, but it wasn’t his usual mischievous one—it was softer, more thoughtful. “Yeah, she kind of pointed out that I might have feelings for someone else.”

The table went silent. Even Sirius, who rarely let anything keep him quiet for long, was staring at James in surprise.

“And?” Remus prompted, leaning forward like he already knew the answer.

“And I realized… she was right,” James admitted, his voice quieter now.

“Oh,” you said softly, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah,” James said, turning to look at you with a curious expression. “It is.”

For a moment, his hazel eyes seemed to search yours, like he was trying to figure out if you knew what he meant—if you felt the same.

But before he could say anything else, Sirius, who clearly couldn’t handle the suspense, interrupted with a loud, “So, who’s the lucky person, Prongs? Don’t leave us hanging!”

James flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he grabbed a piece of toast and stuffed it into his mouth, muttering something unintelligible.

“Oh, come on,” Sirius teased, elbowing him. “Out with it, mate!”

But James just shook his head, laughing nervously. “Not telling,” he mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

The conversation shifted after that, Sirius dragging Peter into a heated debate about whether or not owls secretly judged their owners, and you found yourself staring at your plate, your thoughts spinning.

You didn’t know what to make of James’ words. Who was he talking about? Was it someone you knew? Was it… you?

You glanced at James out of the corner of your eye. He was laughing now, teasing Peter about his messy handwriting, but there was something different about him—something softer.

You pushed the thought away. It couldn’t be you. Could it?

The Owlery was quiet, save for the soft hoots of the owls roosting in their perches. You had just tied your letter to your parents onto a barn owl’s leg, stroking its feathers as it took off into the morning light. Beside you, James was doing the same, his handwriting as messy as ever but filled with his usual warmth and charm.

As his owl soared into the sky, you lingered by the ledge, watching the horizon. James leaned beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the kind that came with years of friendship. But you couldn’t stop thinking about breakfast, about what he’d said, and about the way he’d looked at you.

“So,” you started, your voice soft, “this… someone else you might have feelings for.”

James froze, his hands gripping the stone ledge. “Oh,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “That.”

You turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah, that.”

James rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Right. Well…” He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” you asked, taking a step closer.

He glanced at you then, his hazel eyes searching yours. “Because, well because it’s you,” he said quietly.

The words hung in the air, delicate and trembling. You stared at him, your mouth slightly open in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah,” James said, his cheeks flushing pink. “It’s always been you, I think. I just… didn’t realize it until Lily pointed it out. And then when I thought about it—about us—it just made sense, you know? You’ve always been there. You’ve always been you.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “James…”

“I know it might be weird,” he said quickly, misinterpreting your silence. “And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just thought you should know, because I—”

“I feel the same,” you blurted out, cutting him off.

He blinked at you, his mouth hanging open. “You do?”

You nodded, a shy smile spreading across your face. “I do.”

For a moment, James just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, slowly, his lips curled into the biggest, brightest grin you’d ever seen.

“Brilliant,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You laughed, the sound light and bubbly, and he joined in, his joy infectious. Before you knew it, he was stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours.

“I, uh, don’t have a proper ring,” he said, his voice nervous but warm. “But…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar folded strip of parchment.

Your breath hitched as he gently slipped the paper ring onto your finger, his touch lingering. “There,” he said, his smile soft and a little shy. “Perfect.”

You looked down at the ring, your chest swelling with warmth. It was so James—simple, sweet, and utterly wonderful.

“Perfect,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

When you looked up, he was already watching you, his hazel eyes filled with something so soft and tender it made your knees weak.

“Does this mean you’re stuck with me?” you teased, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling.

“Forever, if you’ll have me,” James said, grinning.

And as the owls cooed above and the sunlight bathed the two of you in gold, you knew you would. Forever and always.

[capitanooos]

trios never work // satosugu x reader (business au)

-`♡´- pairing : gojo satoru x geto suguru x reader

-`♡´- summary : after they cut you out of their lives nine years ago, an unexpected reunion takes place. how do they react? what happens next?

-`♡´- warnings : gangs. pet names, alcohol consumption. nothing else really

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission

nine years. It had been nine years. 

The first year felt unrealistic. It was strange. going from being side by side with each other almost 24/7 to no contact at all. [Name] didn’t know what she did wrong, just that one day Satoru and Suguru decided they didn’t want her in their life anymore.

She remembered everything of their last day together, every once in a while it would suddenly pop back up into her head, but in that first year, it replayed again and again; every day.

“Suguru!” [Name] had called out to one of the two teenage boys as she caught up to them “hi!” 

Suguru flung his arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her into his side as she greeted Satoru. 

“Where have you been, doll? We were looking for you.” 

[Name] laughed as she grabbed their hands and pulled them along. “Shoko and I accidentally forgot to sleep, so when I did fall asleep around ten I was doomed to wake up late.” 

The two boys looked at each other and smiled, the little ball of sunshine walking in front still pulling them along. 

“So four hours of sleep and already this energetic? you still gotta teach me that trick.” Satoru commented as he looked at her, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She replied with a ‘real magicians don’t explain their best tricks’ 

After they walked for a while, they finally reached the top of a mountain, looking down on the city below. 

The beginning of summer break celebration was going on, kids from their private school and from public schools in the city came together to celebrate. Many people crowded the streets, there was music, and they could see everything perfectly. 

“look who knows the best spots once again”

They had spent the entire afternoon on the top of that mountain since classes were canceled due to the celebration. Their fellow students were down there, having fun.

But as they were probably dancing and partying; Satoru took on the challenge to chase [Name] around the hill, she yelped and ran behind the other boy, clutching to the back of his shirt for protection as she heard the two boys negotiate. 

“Don’t you dare Suguru,” she warned, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. He placed one of his hands on hers and suddenly pulled her to the front. “Not you too please! ah!” she yelped, but the next moment she was giggling, she could never stand a chance against their tickle war. Ever since they found out she was very ticklish a few years ago it had become a thing for them to annoy her with. Whenever it was if she were sad, annoyed, angry, or if they felt like it, the boys would look at each other and [Name] would run instantly if she saw. (Which she most of the time didn’t and fell into their grasp giggling.)

Later at night they went back to the school, they had watched the sun set, then the fireworks, and then [name] and Satoru listened and looked in awe as Suguru pointed out constellations in the night sky. It was perfect.

At some point her eyes fell and she slept. The black haired boy looked down at her sleeping on Satoru's shoulder before giving a sad smile. 

“She will never forgive us.”

“But at least we'll protect her.” 

The next morning when [name] woke up in the room she shared with Shoko there was a little note on her nightstand.

‘you’re gonna be okay’ in Satoru’s messy and rushed handwriting. She got dressed and ran out of her room, looking for her best friends. what did Satoru mean with that she was gonna be okay?

She looked all over the grounds, the dining hall, library, common rooms, classrooms, the fields and gardens. Eventually she decided to also check their dorm. Girls and boys weren’t originally allowed in each other's dorm rooms, but since everyone was packing their stuff for summer the teachers didn’t care. So she followed the familiar path towards the boys their shared room. The posters were gone from their door, but they probably took those down first she thought. [name] knocked on the door, no reaction. She opened the door to find it completely empty except for the furniture that belonged to the school. 

Graduation was next week, why were they moved out already? For the last few years they always did that together. Where were they? As she turned around and bumped into Nanami, he looked just as confused as he took in the empty room. 

He looked at her, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. She knew what he was gonna ask, “They’re putting their stuff into the car or?”

She showed him the note in her hand and Nanami just got more question marks behind his eyes.

For a week she wondered where they were, she held hope they’d come knocking on her temporary apartment building her parents owned as she waited in the city for graduation. However; no knock came, no call, no letter or note, nothing. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru disappeared from the radar.

When graduation rolled around word went round that Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru would not be attending. They had waited for this moment for she didn’t know how long. Plans were made to go out with their other friends after, they had plans for the future! But now, instead of her two best friends cheering on her louder than anyone else as she held her valedictorian speech, her other friends cheered double as hard. They knew she’d been struggling this week. Shoko had crashed at her temporary apartment since she didn’t want to deal with her parents. Nanami also came by daily, and if they hadn’t been there, no one would’ve known what would’ve happened to [name].

The second year was still unbearable. [Name] worked a lot, saving money, attending college, going out with her friends on the weekends. She often found herself looking to her sides, expecting to see one of her two former best friends walking there. She always looked for them in crowds, she looked everywhere, but they were nowhere to be found. 

In the third year [name] finally figured out her future. She was in her third year of college but decided to drop out. She saved a lot of money, and she was relatively well off so she bought a building in the busy city and within six months the place opened to a magnificent night club and partially a cafe two times a week. It took a lot of promotion, and a lot of patience until the place blew up. 

In just the first year that it opened, she gained so much she paid off the entire loan of the building. It hit off with people her age, and at just nineteen [name] was going to become one of the youngest millionaires of her time, she just didn’t know it yet.

Her friends loved the place too, and they were immensely proud of [name] after what she had gone through a few years prior. She proved to the world that the only person she truly needed was herself and that she could do whatever she wanted to.

The second year after opening the fourth without Gojo and Geto [name] opened a second location of her club across the world in Los Angeles. 

And now nine years later, and six locations in Tokyo, Los Angeles, Amsterdam, NYC, Paris and London [Name] had in fact become the fastest growing self made millionaire at her age. She lived in Beverly Hills, had her own place designed and built and she was living the life. 

Now; in her bathroom it was still a calm Saturday night but she knew that in an hour she would be in her own club, observing the people as she sipped on her drink. Saturdays were the busiest; first day of the weekend but that also meant a lot of money. 

“Scarlett?” [name] called out to her assistant who walked towards the entrance of the bathroom. “Take two weeks off, alright? Paid vacation of course, take your wife anywhere you want, put it on my bill. It’s summer and you haven’t been on a break since last year. It’s not up for debate.” She was fixing the last strands of her hair before turning towards the woman in her doorframe who looked a bit ill at her words. “Now, how do I look?” she gave Scarlett a smile. 

“As beautiful as always. And… Are you sure you’ll be fine? I mean… Two weeks is a lot.” Scarlett loved her job, not because it paid well, or because her boss was very generous. She loved her job because her boss felt more like a close friend rather than a boss. 

“You’re right, make it three weeks. You deserve it, you and your wife both. I’ll be fine, I know how to start a washer and dryer, I know how to do the dishes. What else would I need? Now, have fun on your vacation, you better send me pics, and have fun! I gotta get going now though cause I'm already late.”

Scarlett still looked a bit sick as she bid farewell to her boss, but at least she could finally take a break, which she was too shy to admit she actually needed.

[Name] walked through the front door of the club, she didn’t pick favorites is what she told others, but the location here in LA and the one in Paris were definitely her favorites of the six she owned. The music was beaming, lights flashing and the scent of alcohol and sweat hung in the air. Security guards nodded at her in a silent greeting as she made her way to her office, one of them trailing her for her own protection. Tonight was going to be a good night, she thought as she poured herself a drink, quickly drowning it before taking a glance at the paperwork that had been assembled on her desk during the last few days. She’d take it home when she left tonight. The security guard opened the door again and waited for her to lock it, after she gave him the signal he didn’t have to trail her tonight.

She walked past the VIP area, making some small conversations with people she’d seen before. There were new faces too, there always were. All different types of ‘em too. It was a safe space as well as a club. She stopped at Toji’s table, how he and her met was a long story. Everyone at [Name] her boarding school knew of the Zen’in family and their generations at the school, same as the Gojo family, as well as her own. She’d seen him here at the club one day a few years ago, standing at the bar and damn he looked familiar she had thought. It soon clicked in her head and she walked up to him. 

“Zen’in?” she had called as she stood behind him.

“Fushiguro now actually, took my wife's last name.” he said as he turned around, looking at the young woman in front of him. “Wait,” he had studied her face, until his eyes landed on the obvious giveaway of her family “[last name]?”. She nodded and smiled in response to his guess. “Never thought I’d see one of you all the way out here.” 

“Well, someone has to be the millionaire of the family.” Toji’s eyes widened as he asked for more details, giving an impressed grin when he found out she was the owner. 

“You got it good, girl. I wouldn’t have suspected you to be the type.” 

“Hello again, it’s been a while.” She sat down on the couch next to him, observing the people as they danced to the music. There were some empty glasses in front of him but Toji seemed rather sober.

“[Last name], you look good tonight.” he gave her a grin, it had been a few years since his wife died, the first few years were a mess for him, he was in here every night drinking away his grief. But over the years he had come to accept her passing and actually started taking care of his son again. Now he came every weekend, mostly just Saturdays since that's when his son was at his friends’ or godfathers house. “Thank you,” she smiled at him, smoothing out the satin dress on her body. “How’s Megs?” She hadn’t seen either of them ‘cause they’d been residing in Japan for a while. Toji smiled at the mention of his son. It took him too long to realize that the little boy was his light in life, his wife lived on in him and oh he was amazing. 

“He’s fine, great actually. He graduated from Jujutsu High a few weeks ago…” as Toji said that an old but familiar scent hit [name] her nostrils and she immediately turned her head around but didn’t find what she smelled. “It was amazing to see him receive his diploma. To be really honest, a few years ago I thought I’d never be back at that place again after I graduated years and years ago myself.” 

“He’s so grown up already, I can remember when you told me he just started.” [Name] turned her head back towards her friend with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “And to be fair, I don’t think I’ll ever return to Jujutsu High again, no matter the reason.” there was a reason- there were simply too many memories there that she had tried her hardest to forget. Those memories being the ones she just smelled.

The mixed scent of sweet floral yet strong cologne and a really overwhelming smell of pine and vanilla still hung faintly in the air.

It can’t be, she thought. Her mind was just playing tricks on her because Toji had her remember things she didn’t want to. There’s no way. 

Yet when she bid farewell to Toji and walked towards the bar she smelled it again. The bartenders didn’t look up when she walked behind the bar and poured herself a drink, yet she overheard their conversations. 

“That man's eyes… wow! I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that bright!”

It’s not him. They’re not here.

“But the other one! His shoulders… my god.”

[Name] walked away before she’d drive herself insane over this. There was no way they were here. If they were, she would’ve spotted them already. Even though a decade can change a lot about a person; Gojo’s bright blue eyes and bright hair and Geto’s long dark hair and muscled figure always stood out, especially when together.

She wasn’t even sure if they’d recognise her. She cut her hair, the final stages of puberty hit her later so she got some more curves and flesh, her style had changed and so had her personality. Though deep down she knew that if she’d ever see those two boys again, she’d turn back into her old bubbly self if it took too long. She always had a soft spot for them, no matter what happened or how much she denied it, they would always be a part of her past. Toji had also once told her she walked around like she owned the place, to which she replied that she did. He’d given her credit for the remark and she’d told him to put things on her tab that night.

With a racing heart she went back to observing the crowds. Walking alongside tables, along the dancefloor, everywhere. 

Theres no way these two fucks still wear the same cologne after years.

She sipped her drink, it burned in her throat, but it wasn't unpleasant. She walked towards the staircase for staff and security. All the way up it overlooked the layout of the building and she could spot things easier. 

I’m going to drive myself insane by looking for people that aren’t-

Her train of thoughts stopped when she saw a mob of bright white hair, she stared at it for ten seconds before looking at the person's face and she felt her head get light, looking besides him she saw a familiar black haired man.

Fuck.

She turned around, not being able to look anymore. The top of the stairs wasn't lit, so the chance they would’ve seen her was slim, very slim. [Name] sunk to the ground and drowned her drink in one go, this time the burn lasted longer and she closed her eyes. A few years ago she had promised herself that if she’d ever find them in her club- her property, she’d get them kicked out. Yet now that she found them, that seemed impossible. She couldn’t just walk up to them and tell them to get out of here. 

Why not?

Why not? There was no reason as to why not. As she said, it was her property, she could do whatever she wanted and before she realized it herself she was already making her way to the table they were sitting at. 

The music seemed to dim, the world became clearer yet also blurrier as she stood in front of them. 

“Get the fuck out of my place.” she said, there was anger and aggression in her voice as she looked at them. “Now.” 

Gojo and Geto both looked up at the person speaking to them. Geto had to do a double take as he took in the woman before him, but Gojo’s heart and smile dropped instantly.

“Get out. You’ll be okay.” her own eyes met Gojo’s blue ones, sending back his own words he left on that note nine years ago.

[Name] raised her eyebrows in amusement as she looked at the two men infront of her. They changed so much, yet nothing at all. She’d wait sixty seconds before she would raise her hand and look to the side to call security. 

“[N-name]? What are you doing here?” Gojo stuttered. 

“Running my club, what about you?” she smiled sarcastically before glaring at him. “Leave. You two wanted me out of your life, now I want you two out of mine. Leave and never show your face here, or at any of my locations, ever again. You have one minute before I call security.”

Geto stared at her with wide eyes, the woman in front of him was not the one they left behind nine years ago. There was no sign of silly jokes and giggles, lit up eyes and playful eyerolls. 

This woman was cold. That was the only word that came to Geto’s mind. There was no love in her eyes anymore, her spark wasn't the same. And the worst part of it was that Gojo and he were probably the reason for it.

“Ha! Look who it is, man I didn’t expect you here. Isn’t Megs at your place?” Toji suddenly appeared out of nowhere and his words made [name] even more lightheaded. He wrapped his arm around her waist briefly, a small sign of affection and recognition as they exchanged glances. “You know them?” she asked Toji who enthusiastically replied.

“Yeah! Blue eyes is Megumi’s godfather, didn’t I tell ya? But I was just gonna head back out, got an emergency meeting first thing tomorrow. See ya [name], take care of yourself, alright?” he waved goodbye to Gojo and Geto and walked out. 

Great. Fucking great.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking-

“Follow me, no questions and you'll walk out of here unharmed.” she spoke in a cold tone before turning around and making her way to her office. 

What the fuck was happening. Who had cursed this upon her?

She unlocked the door to her office and walked in, pouring herself another drink as the two men came in. “Sit.”

They did as she said and sat down in the chairs facing the desk. Gojo sneaked a look at one of the papers on her desk. It showed the gain of the last month. That was more than his and Geto’s company made… in three months…

He quickly sat back when she turned around and sat in the desk chair with her drink in hand. It was a fancy black one, CEO’s would have it- he had one alike.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” Gojo said, trying to make small talk.

“And I thought we’d be friends forever.” She took a sip of her drink, looking at both of them before speaking again. “Explain. You have ten minutes, and I am solely doing this for the sake of Toji and Megs cause I will not let them know we are on bad terms.”

They stared at her. Nine years ago she would have blushed and tried to hide away or scold them to stop, but now she stared back, no trace of blushing on her cheeks.

“Get to it. We’re adults now, we both have running businesses. So let's get over it.”

Geto sighed, this was more complicated than the situation nine years ago was. Or maybe explaining it nine years ago would’ve been easier, [name] was easier then. Not in a bad way, she changed, they all did, but Geto had the feeling that she would’ve understood it better back then rather than now. Both Gojo and Geto felt the anger radiating off her, she looked like she could in fact kill both of them right now.

“We got mixed up with the wrong people in our last year.” Gojo suddenly said and she huffed in annoyance but kept quiet. “You know we were already making plans for our business back then, we tried to make some ties here and there and a particular branch of people scammed us. That’s how we met Toji too, he was mixed up with the same people. They had known I came from money and so they stalked us around, even at school. Pretty soon they found how close we were with you and before we knew it they had entire records open on you. Where you lived, who your parents are, all that type of things! They found your birth certificate! With that came that they found out you came from money too- old money. So they started with threatening to keep us hostage ‘till you paid them a fine, knowing you would. 

After we complied and gave them some money they continued with the blackmail. They came to us with pictures of you asleep, during class, free time, of your apartment in the city. They said they’d kidnap you, said what they’d do to you if we wouldn’t give them more money once our business grew. They knew it would grow because of my father, so we had to cut ties with you to protect you. On the last night-”

“Enough.” She took a long sip of her drink and threw her head back. “You know how much this sounds like bullshit? Protect me or they’d kidnap me and torture me unless-literally speaking-you payed them a fuck ton of money. You could’ve fucking told me? You could’ve waited ‘till after graduation? Yet you decided not to knowing I would be a fucking wreck for years upon years. And then suddenly, after almost a decade you show up in my club acting like a bunch of fucking pussies. The boys I knew wouldn’t pull shit like that! They’d fight cause they’re rich private school jackasses who wouldn’t back out of a fight, nor abandon their best friend simply because some fuckers threatened to hurt her! This could’ve easily been fucking figured out because for fucks sake Gojo! You! You are the heir to one of the oldest bloodlines in country, and so am I so I personally do not see where the fucking problem lies in that it could not have been resolved! And you- no. Don’t you both see the logic in this?” She took a deep breath and looked them both in the eye. “I am drunk alright but even I can see this is bullshit.”

She threw her head back again and took a deep breath and exhaled it.

“You don’t know how scared we were to lose you to them, [name]!” Geto looked at her, but she was looking at the boring white ceiling. “Yeah, well. You lost me because of your fears of losing me.” 

Silence hung in the air for a minute or so as she let those words sink in.

Don't do it. Do not do it. It doesn't matter how close you used to be with them. It doesn’t matter that they took your v-

“Okay here's the deal. It's friday, or well saturday by now probably. Tuesday this place is a cafe, like it is two times a week. You both come here at ten AM, and well talk then, cause again I am fucking drunk.” rolling her head back and looking at them she sighed “Now get out.” 

Gojo and Geto gave each other a look, then looked back at [Name]. She looked back, even though her eyes were a bit bloodshot and teary, her gaze was filled with anything but care and love. Geto took a deep breath before standing up. “Will you get home safely?” He asked and she could see there was genuine concern in his eyes as he frowned a little.

“I’ll call my assistant to come and get me.” She rolled her eyes and gave them another look that told them to get out.

Only [Name] forgot that she had sent Scarlett on vacation, so when she dialed her number it went straight to voicemail. She walked out of the club with the stack of paperwork from earlier in her hands and called an uber. The driver said he was near and there within a minute, so when eventually a black car stopped in front of her she got in. Vaguely she heard him ask for her destination and she gave her address. 

Tonight hadn’t gone as planned, at all. She had expected a calm evening but it was anything but. [Name] had always thought she was over it, over them, or at least for the biggest part. There were always small reminders of them in everything she did or had. But she really thought she’d be able to kick them out, out of her club and out of her life just like they’d done to her. Their explanation–it made sense but it didn’t. Sure she knew they were busy setting up their business, she knew they were making connections. But stalking? The threats? It seemed unreal, yet it was known that around that time there was a peak of criminal groups disguising as business people in Japan. 

[Name] searched for her wallet and pulled out three bills of twenty when the car stopped in front of the gate to her home. 

“Keep the change.” she said and stumbled out, typing in the code of the gate and walking in. She stood still for a moment, looking up at the sky before collapsing on the grass. LA didn’t give the best view of the stars, yet she stared at them anyways, the moonlight shining down on her. It didn’t take long before her eyes closed and she fell asleep under the stars.

Satoru and Suguru watched the woman collapse on the grass and they jumped out of the car. How she hadn’t noticed it wasn’t her UBER, they didn’t know. The gate closed just before the two men could reach it.

Satoru slammed on the gate, while the other used his brain and looked at the numbers. Three of them were slightly stained with a black substance–probably mascara that [name] had rubbed onto her hand when she rubbed her eyes.

Suddenly Suguru saw it, those three numbers were the first three numbers of his birthday.

“Over us, my ass.” he said as he typed in his birthday on the keypad. 

The other looked over at him and stared as the gate opened. “How’d you do that?” “It was my birthday.” they were both a bit dumbfounded by it, but neither of them would be lying if they denied her birthday was also still their phone password. 

Once the gate was open enough they ran through it. The once nicely stacked papers were now sprawled around her as her chest slowly rose up and down. Suguru rushed towards the papers, those were finance and he knew she’d be pissed if they flew away. Satoru ran to get the woman off the grass, he mentioned for Suguru to grab her purse and fish out her keys as he carried her to the front door. 

“Fucking hell sweetheart, you never fail to get us concerned do you?” Satoru held her tightly as Suguru opened the door with the sixth key he tried. They stared in awe as the lights turned on. Yeah, this is definitely a [Name] house. “Couch?” 

“She never liked sleeping on couches, let’s just find her room.”

The two men wandered around the massive house, looking inside every room in the hopes it was her personal bedroom. They stumbled across her office, multiple empty bedrooms–and bathrooms, tons of dead ends, and lots and lots of paintings. But finally when they took one corner it became clear this was where [name] spent most of her time. They opened the biggest door and it revealed a bedroom, adorned with adorable furniture and picture frames, and of course more art. This was definitely her room. 

Suguru looked at pictures of a teen [name] with Shoko, next to it stood a picture of Nanami–which didn’t seem to be a very old picture. He saw lots of familiar faces. Even some of Megumi and his friends. In the meantime Satoru had carried her to her bed and laid her down.

“We either wake her up and get yelled at, or we leave her like this and she’ll wake up feeling terrible.” Satoru turned on the light on the nightstand and looked at his best friend. 

To be completely honest–they hadn’t known they were in her club tonight. They both knew she owned a chain of clubs, just like how she probably knew about their business. Their surprise to see her had been much alike to [name] except for the hatred. Both of them had said it. That she’d hate them once they left, and she did, they saw the anger this evening. Though it was a surprise she didn’t turn violent, not that [name] was aggressive or anything, but what would any sane person do when they’d see the person who made their life miserable by leaving her alone? 

It was probably Toji’s appearance who stopped her from doing that. 

“Or we do our best to make her comfortable cause she ain’t gonna be sleeping well in that. If she wakes up we accept the result. If she doesn’t; we leave as quietly as possible and see her tuesday.” Geto proposed and already turned to what he assumed was a walk in closet. 

He blindly grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of shorts from a random drawer and walked back out. As the two stood beside the bed looking at the sleeping woman another wave of realization hit them but it soon faded away and they got to action. Sure it was a bit weird they were changing their former best friend's clothes while she was sleeping, but they’d rather have her comfortable rather than ripping an expensive looking dress.

You just do this because you want to make up for the time you lost with her.

It wasn’t the first time they had changed her clothes, saw her shirtless or passed out. Yet it was a very different situation now. Nine years had passed. 

It took them a while, and some whispered curses and confusion of the dress [Name] was wearing later, they stood back and watched as she lay there, sleeping. Satoru had gone to get a clean glass of water for on her bedside while Suguru tucked her into bed. 

“You’d definitely have our heads if you knew we were here…” he spoke as he gently lifted her head to get the hair out of her neck. That’s when he realized she also still had make-up on, best leave that for her to do when she wakes up, Suguru thought.

“Scarlett? Scar don’t forget…” Suguru froze as he watched [Name] stir in her sleep. He carefully reached out and placed a hand on her head.

“Go back to sleep, pretty girl.” He closed his eyes, the sound of her voice hadn’t changed, though when they talked earlier it was rougher, there was hatred in her voice. Now her voice was soft and calm, like it had been all those years ago.

They’d spent summers at each other's houses, mostly Satoru’s or [Name]’s, and every morning the boys would hear that soft, whiney, sleepy voice and they’d just melt. Surrender whatever and tickle and smother the girl in hugs and kisses. 

Some outsiders called them ‘like siblings’ , some said the three could argue like a married bunch, others said they were invisibly bonded, like a string always connecting them wherever they went, always coming back to each other.

Suguru kneeled beside the bed, looking around the room. Though [Name] may be in her late twenties, the way she decorated her room was still the same as in her high school days. Picture frames with pictures of friends everywhere, posters of shows, bands, movies on the walls. Plants here and there, a pile of laundry on the floor along with some dishes. 

Her bedside table adorned a book, a cute lamp Satoru turned on earlier, some flowers, another picture frame with a picture of her with some friends… No, not just some friends. 

It was [Name], with Satoru and himself.

Suguru swallowed, he remembered the day that picture was taken all too well. It had been their last first day at Jujutsu High, also known as their first day of senior year. God, they were all young then, Suguru thought. Young and clueless. No idea what was bound to happen not many months later. 

Originally the picture was just meant to be of [Name], but the two boys had decided to photobomb, so it was [Name] cutely standing in front of the camera, and then two teenage boys coming up behind her with weird faces. The girl absolutely adored the photo, it had been on her night stand ever since she got the photos back on paper.

Suguru cast his eyes down to the floor before the door opened and Satoru came in, nearly on his tippy toes to try and make as little sound as possible. “Got the water, let’s… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, let’s get out of here before we wake her up.”

When [Name] woke up the next morning she had zero recollection of what happened after she exited the UBER. To her surprise, she was no longer in her dress, wearing clothes she hadn’t seen in years, ones she tucked away after high school ended and never looked back on. 

She noted the freshwater and aspirins on her bedside table. Her dress from the night prior neatly folded and put on her vanity stool. 

Odd. She thought as she got up out of bed. She also found her phone on her bedside table, plugged into the charger, on do not disturb. Very odd. 

She opened up her phone, seeing hundreds of messages from Scarlett, and as she opened them the woman herself called. 

“[Name]? Thank god, are you alright? What were they doing carrying you?” Scarlett immediately bombarded her with questions, and [Name] could not phantom what she was talking about at all. 

As Scarlett continued talking [Name] walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror just as Scarlett spoke words she did not want to hear at all.

“What were the owners of S&S Industries doing inside of your house?”

Tuesday rolled around in a haze. The weekend was a blur, [Name] was not prepared for the day to come. This was the exact reason she always had Scarlett make her appointments. 

She arrived at the location an hour early, making sure everything looked better than good. It had to be. Her staff had welcomed her with a warm welcome, big smiles and kind words, as always. She told them an important meeting of sorts would be taking place around ten and to be polite, solely to tell them again how important it was. 

Out of pure coincidence, Megumi and his friends showed up ten minutes before ten, distracting [Name] from the nerves that were eating away at her. She was sitting down in a booth in the center of the cafe, Nobara and Megumi sitting next to her as Yuji ordered him and his two friends breakfast. It was always nice to have the kids come by, have breakfast with them, today was just really unfortunate. 

“You kids will have to pick another table to eat at, yes? I have a meeting here in a bit.” She looked at Megumi, noting how much he looked like his father. Her phone chimed, and the time told her it was a mere five more minutes before she had to face them–sober.

“Business meeting? More locations? Important? Collabs?” Nobara looked at her with big eyes, [Name] adored the younger girl, she reminded her of her younger self a lot, and she guessed Nobara saw her as a big sister, always clinging to her side when the two saw each other. 

“Not quite, just… some people from high school, but you have to promise me not to give any weird looks when you see them, okay?” 

She looked at them again, their confused looks bringing a nervous smile on [Name] her face as she shooed them away when the door opened. 

“Tell your dad I said hi.” she messed up his hair before walking towards the two men in the entrance.

Enough hours were spent trying to come up with what to say at this exact moment, she had so many options, yet none came to mind as she looked up at them. 

[Name] looked up at the two men and swallowed, her head felt light as she offered a small smile–already regretting everything.

“Hi, welcome.” she dipped her head out of respect before turning around and mentioning for them to follow her. She spared the kids a look, and as expected they were staring at the trio with big confused eyes. Oh how much they looked like Gojo, Geto and herself when they were younger, and she could only hope they wouldn’t meet the same fate.

Once they were seated in the booth a waiter came by and took their orders, which were still the exact same as a decade ago. 

��It’s a nice place you build here.” Geto was the first to speak up. 

Hesitantly [Name] looked up at him and smiled, “Paris is even better, bought this old place, renovated it completely but kept the old looks on the inside. It took a while but it’s perfect…” She again looked at the kids, Nobara was already looking at her and offered her a thumbs up. “So, Megs’ godfather huh?” Gojo met her eyes over his sunglasses he still wore, guilt was evident in them.

He nodded softly, “Yeah… Saved Toji from one of the gangs we got mixed up with, he made me his godfather about a year later. What about you and Toji?” 

“Me and Toji? In what way?” She raised her eyebrows, knowing fully well what he meant. “Toji is a family associate, loyal customer, and a great friend. Nothing more. A bit too old for me.”

Silence fell over them again until their drinks arrived. The air was tense, guilt and regret hung in the air as well as sadness and anger. It wouldn’t take much for [Name] to burst out in tears. For the first time in years she was at arms length of her best friends, she looked at them and savored the moment even though they hurt her so badly.

Gojo still stirred sugar through his coffee as he sat in the middle seat, stealing Geto’s small cookie when he wasn't looking. His hair still messy but not messy messy, his undercut now much more noticeable than when they were teens and still those cursed sunglasses that hid his mesmerizing blue eyes.

Grew up to meet the Disney prince standards. [Name] thought.

Geto… His hair was longer, half put up, half falling down his back. He put on more muscle, a small smile still always present on his face, soft and caring eyes staring back at her as she took him in.

Oh fuck. 

“You’re staring, doll.” 

She flushed, blood rushing to her cheeks as she got caught. She swallowed, saying the first best thing that came to mind.

“It was a real asshole move, you know. Nine years ago. It really fuckin’ hurt and it could’ve been atleast brought to me in a slightly better way.”

You didn’t have to cut me off completely out of nowhere. Was what she meant to say, but she knew the boys got the message already as they dipped their heads. 

“It took me four years to stop looking to my sides for either of you, I couldn’t sleep in my family home anymore cause every meter of the premises reminded me of you. I never stopped looking for you in crowds, I never stopped smelling ghosts of your scents wherever I went. I never had the nerve to throw out pictures of you, of us. I never changed my phone password, I- I never got over it, over you two.” 

[Name] had tears in the corners of her eyes as she grabbed her tea to calm herself. Every inch of her just needed to tell them everything. How she felt, how it hurt. Everything.

Her lips quivered when a hand took her mug out of her hands and arms wrapped around her. The smell of a strong cologne filled her senses and that was all it took for the tears to fall. She was pulled closer until she could feel the material of his sweater on her cheek. Suguru Geto was hugging her for the first time in nine years. A feeling she never thought she’d feel again as she held onto him for dear life. 

Somewhere in her mind [Name] remembered what she thought not too long ago. If I stay around them for too long I'll go back to my old self in no time. 

“Easy, doll, we’re not going anywhere... Not again.” Suguru whispered softly rubbing soothing circles on her back as he held her close. “It’s okay, shh.” 

He slowly rocked them back and forth, locking eyes with Satoru who was having a hard time holding his emotions in check. Gojo also didn’t dare spare the kids not too far away a look, not knowing how’d they react to the scene in front of them.

Carefully Satoru sat up and reached out to [Name], her head still half shielded away by one of Suguru’s hands. When their eyes locked she broke free from the other man and embraced him.

“Always stealing the ladies away from me,”

“Yeah, well, I think there's no more need for other ladies now that we have the best one of all back.”

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

dont forget to like and reblog <3

[moonstruckme]

hi hun!! i have another in a week :]] it's a little less cute than sunshine reader, but i read the fic where reader swore at someone and everyone was shocked and i thought it was so funnyy

i was thinking a.. hothead!reader who's got a sailor mouth and quick temper, so naturally she curses a LOT. and the boys dare her to try not to curse for just one day, and she accepts it, but without them even doing anything mischievous to tick her off, she drops something and she's like "fuck- shit, damn it!" and the boys are just giggling their head off and constantly reminding her to put money in the swear jar

ooh and maemae, i love the way you write descriptions omgg <333 especially when you write from james' pov, he's such a sweetheart!! ahh you're such an amazing writer, your stuff gives me all the warm fuzzies :] i hope you're taking care of yourself in the midst of writing all these requests!!

- ✏️

Thank you my love!

join the party

poly!marauders x hothead!reader ♡ 677 words

You know your boyfriends are plotting something. You eye them suspiciously as Sirius whispers to James, both of them giggling like children. 

“What,” you say flatly. 

James doesn’t even bother trying to hide his grin. “Nothing, sweetheart.”

You huff, biting your lip before you can call him any name that’ll make you lose your prize. It’s nine in the morning, and you’ve only got about sixteen hours to go with no cursing. Twelve if you go to bed early as a measure of self-censure. 

Remus had raised an eyebrow at you after a particularly colorful stream of expletives the night before, asking as you made your contribution to the swear jar, “Do you think you could go even one day without swearing like that?” You said you could, and Sirius had pounced on the opportunity for a wager, betting you that you couldn’t go the entire next day without using a single curse word. 

You’re sure the boys were hoping you’d forget overnight, but you weren’t accustomed to losing, and damned if you weren’t going to get your prize. Sirius had so little faith in you that he’d agreed to letting you pick what movies you all watched for the next month if you won the bet. The next month. That meant a month-long reprieve from those stupid fucking heist movies they all loved so much. 

You’re also certain that, failing their first plan of your poor memory, your boyfriends are going to be cooking up some other scheme to make you falter. One of their famous pranks, to be sure. They tease you incessantly for your short fuse, and they’re bound to try and ignite it any way they can today. 

You wonder what it’ll be. Dog breath potion slipped into your water bottle? Stink pellets tossed into your room? Or maybe something so simple as salt in your coffee?

You look down at the mug Remus handed you a minute ago, sniffing at it. They always use Remus when they want to be inconspicuous; it’s so hard to suspect him. But he wants you to lose the bet as much as anyone. 

You stand, carrying your still-full mug into the kitchen. 

“Not this time,” you mutter. 

Remus looks up from his paper, frowning at you as you stomp over to the sink. “Dove, what are you doing?” 

“You must think I’m so gullible,” you drawl, pouring the hot coffee down the drain. “There’s no way I’m ingesting anything you—” the handle of the mug slips from your grasp, the dish shattering in the sink “—ah, fuck!” You look up to see Sirius’ eyes widen, glee sparking to life, and realize what you’ve done. “Shit. Damn it!” 

Remus puts a hand over his mouth while Sirius hoots, and James simply collapses in giggles, disappearing behind the couch. 

“Tha—that was too easy,” Sirius cackles, using his forefinger to wipe under his eyes. “We didn’t even do anything yet!” 

“Sweetheart, I’m almost disappointed,” Remus says, shaking his head even as he grins from ear-to-ear. “I thought you’d make it to the afternoon at least. Get your money for the jar.” 

“That’s, what?” James' voice comes from behind the couch. “Three dollars?”

“Five,” you say gravely, holding up your favorite finger on each hand. “Fuck you, you assholes.” 

“Pretty sure that’s six, babydoll.” Sirius cheeses at you. “Gestures count, don’t they Prongs?”

“A dollar per hand,” James agrees, now recovered enough to sit up on the couch. 

You seethe at them, and Remus comes into the kitchen to help you clean up your mess, patting your shoulder consolingly. 

“We’ll put it towards date night,” he says. 

“Good idea.” Sirius kicks his feet up on the table, making a show of lounging in his chair. “I’m thinking tonight, we order in from that Indian place and watch The Italian Job. What do you think, lads?”

You bristle, but Remus sees the comeback sizzling on your tongue and squeezes your shoulder warningly. “Save your money, dove. Want me to make you some more coffee? Seems like you might need it today.”

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART NINE.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: another invite to a party was not what you were expecting from your former crush…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMOKING WEED, mention of intoxication, swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,652

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: you guys must hate me right now😂

i promise (lol) i’ll have a fic out soon! i’ve been struggling so that’s why i haven’t been as active, but i’ll try my best to be :)

“𝐈’𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘,” 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 says, waving at the smoke that exits her mouth.

“paige, it’s fine. the pits were three weeks ago. i’m over it. i’m alive, aren’t i?”

she frowns with a nod. paige wanted to hang out with you today since you didn’t have anything going on, so you planned a sleepover with just the two of you. her dad is out of town with her brother, leaving her alone for a few days. you guys are sitting in her living room at the moment with the TV portraying a shitty netflix movie she clicked on, even though you aren’t paying attention to it.

after a second puff, she hands you the blunt. you inhale deeply, the smoke flowing through your body with ease. “anything new going on? more specifically chris related?” she smirks.

“no,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at the girl. you told her about what he did the night of the pits, and she's not letting go about how she thinks you like him.

you don’t.

“that’s boring.” she mumbles. “anything else? not chris related because you’re lame.”

“my cousins are coming tomorrow; my mom told me this morning. they’re staying with monica for a few weeks, who is their best friend since they’re close in age. she lives right next door to us.” you start, putting the blunt between your lips once more. “she’s a family friend i’ve pretty much known my whole life.

“hm.” she hums, falling silent and looking around the room before speaking again. “are you sure you don’t have at least a little feelings for chris?”

“no. we just started being friends again!” you argue. “ask that again and you’re earning a slap across the face.”

she laughs, adjusting herself to where she leans back on her elbows. “is that kevin butler texting? i remember you having the fattest crush on him when we were in middle school.”

confused, you stare at her to see she is looking at your lit-up screen on the coffee table. “shut up.” you snarl, rolling your eyes intensely. “i bumped into him at the pits.”

she gasps, sitting up as fast as lightning. not going to lie, it made you flinch a little. “do you like ryan again? or is this like a love triangle? now things are getting good.” she props herself on her knees to feed into the gossip.

“no, i don’t like kevin.” you say, which is somewhat of a lie.

“please, please, please answer it.” she begs, handing you the phone. you can tell the drug you two inhaled is starting to take over. you snatch the phone from her and open up the message.

“i hope you know i’m coming with you to that party,” paige says, peeking over your shoulder.

“chris is going to hate me.” you say lowly, locking the phone and placing it back where it was before.

she knits her eyebrows together. “why? he doesn’t control you.”

“i know, but i don’t want him to drag me to his house again.” you bite your lip to nibble on it. “that’s embarrassing.”

“chris doesn’t have to find out. you are your own person and you make your own decisions, no?” she says, patting you on the chest.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 afternoon the next day. when you get there, you see two recognizable cars in the driveway. you sprint up the stairs and enter through the front door, to be greeted by numerous voices overlapping each other. the pitter-patter of paws slam against the wood floors when you shut the door. “oh!” you say in a startle as chichi jumps onto his hind legs to put his front two on your thigh. his tail wags as he greets you with smothers and barks while you pat his head.

peering around the wall, chichi zooms back into the living room. your cousin bethany — who gave you your journal all of those years ago — and her husband dillon are sitting on the floor in front of where your mom and dad are seated. your other cousin amalia and her husband james are on the other couch, their six-year-old twins playing with toys on the coffee table. “y/n!” oliver, one of the twins, exclaims. he runs over to hug you.

“hello, people. fancy seeing you here,” you say, sitting on the floor alongside bethany and dillon.

when your mom said everybody, you thought she was exaggerating, but she meant everybody.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 scurrying through your closet to try and find a perfect outfit for tonight. you usually don’t care about that certain thing, but you have a good feeling about kevin’s party in less than two hours. you groan loudly as your bedroom door opens. “is everything okay here?” bethany asks, peeking her head in.

you nod. “yes!”

“alright, then. i was sent to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

“i’m not eating right now. i’m going out soon.” you exhale sharply, still tearing your closet apart.

she raises a brow, intrigued. “where are you going?”

“out with friends.” you smile nervously, rubbing the sweat off of your hands on your pajamas, looking in the pile of clothes some more to see if a decent outfit will magically appear out of thin air. she gives you a suspicious look, checking to see if anybody is around before closing the door. “who’s the boy?”

“there is no boy.”

“you don’t get dressed up to ‘go out with friends’.”

you sigh in defeat. “fine. i was invited to this party and i want to dress nice, but all i have is bum sh— stuff; and i’m running out of time. the party is in less than two hours.”

she brings her finger up to her chin to think for a moment. you can see a lightbulb go off in her head. “let me make a call.” she pulls out her phone, her nails clicking against the screen. “monica works in fashion. she’ll have stuff to fit, i’m sure.”

speaking of the devil, monica appears at your house in minutes. it’s like you blinked and here she is, her tall figure kneeling in front of the bag she places down and pulls out two dresses. “you don’t seem like the type to wear fancy shit, so i brought these that i know you’ll look good in.”

the dress she is holding in her right hand is a red silky v-neck with stitched openings going up to the stitching that separates the chest from the bottom. the other one is a simple dress that is holographic. you tilt your head to think as you look from one to the other. “my mom is going to kill me if she sees me wearing one of these.”

she giggles, her long hair with blonde highlights falling over her shoulders when she does so. “oh, we got that covered.” she says matter of factly, pointing between her and bethany.

“hence why i am going to help you leave without her seeing, and covering up for you while you’re gone. you’re nineteen years old. you have to live a little, but safely. even if you have to lie from time to time.” bethany says, eyeing her best friend.

“just out of curiosity, does your mom know you snuck out?” you say because this plan seems too good to be true.

“oh, god, no. i’d still be grounded.” she shakes her head and you laugh out loud. “amalia and i used to have each other’s backs all the time when we were your age, younger, even. now, it’s time i have yours.”

you smile at that. she’s so cool, despite her being in her early thirties. amalia is a few years older. after some consideration, you point to the red dress. “that one.”

“good choice.” monica starts. “go to the bathroom and put it on.”

you get up from the floor and go to the restroom which is only a few feet away from your room. taking off what you’re wearing, you slip into the dress. you hum, checking yourself out in the mirror for a few seconds. it fits your form perfectly, your body looking better than it has ever looked in your nineteen years of living. you smirk at this boost of confidence. the more you look, the more you realize how short it is. the weird thing is, you don’t mind.

you look phenomenal.

walking back to the girls with a twirl, you hear bethany audibly gasp. “holy shit. you look stunning!”

“i feel it.”

“ooh, la la. what’s going on here? a secret fashion show?” amalia chirps while coming up behind you, cocking an eyebrow slightly. she goes over to monica to greet her before continuing. “it’s not that you don’t look gorgeous, but why? you got a date?”

“y/n here is sneaking out to go to a party.” bethany grins, patting you on the shoulder.

“no fucking way.” amalia gasps. “y/n, my most introverted little cousin, is sneaking out to party?”

“please don’t tell my mom,” you beg with a hint of worry that she’ll snitch.

she scoffs. “who do you think i am? this is a very special occasion i have to take part in… ‘cause girl, you are rocking it in that dress.”

you giggle as bethany sits you down at the vanity. she grabs her makeup bag that’s in her purse and leans in front of you. monica is scavenging your bedroom to look for jewelry, and she finds some that can match. amalia hovers above you and her sister.

bethany finishes the makeup look after a few minutes and monica hooks you up with a matching necklace and earring set that is silver, all of them giving an approving look. bethany looks at her watch and smiles. “you made it just in time. have fun.” she winks, ushering you to the entrance of your house.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns

[mihotose]

kahomegu♡gelato radio returns for one night only for a training camp special!

they're broadcasting from megumi's bed! just like tsuzuri last year. and kaho's not asleep this time~

kosuzu comes over to ask megumi for advice for tomorrow's shoot forgetting they're streaming but then they invite her to stay anyway

kosuzu was surprised how big everything in kozue's villa turned out to be and kaho smugly tells her the beds in kozue's house are even bigger. megumi asks why kaho's so proud of that and she says "because its my kozue-senpai!" (megumi: "my" she says~?)

kaho leaves for a second to get ginko and sayaka who were preparing for tomorrow. they decide they might as well stream as nine so sayaka offers to get the rest but megumi just calls them over via stream assuming theyre watching (they are.)

kozue and tsuzuri arrive together. kozue doesn't want to stay because she has things to do for tomorrow but kaho promises she'll help with them if she stays. she agrees and megumi of course teases her for changing her mind so easily just because her kouhai asked

the reason they came together is because they were in tsuzuri's room where tsuzuri was drying kozue's hair. tsuzuri sometimes asks her to let her because she likes playing with long hair so megumi says she can do hers next time

while she was drying her hair they were talking about that afternoon's shoot and the beach volleyball. they decided tsuzuri's attack is the coolest! megumi protests but tsuzuri says kozue agrees with her and kozue says she only agreed because she kept asking while she was drying her hair. tsuzuri asks the rest if they think so too but megumi says ruri and hime would be on her side and goes to get them

ruri and hime were editing the movie. ruri doesn't think they can all fit on the bed but kosuzu says she want to challenge if they can!

after lots of strange noises they do in fact manage to all fit

[pabsgavi]

﹗ ˖ ་ 🪩 babysitter : pablo gavi

Pablo Gavi x fem Reader ! ♡

❝ We keep behind closed doors. Every time I see you I die a little more. ❞

the gif is not mine!! credits to his owner

warning: english is not my language so sorry for the grammatical errors

You were quite amused laughing at one of the comments you had found in one of the stories read on wattpad, when you were interrupted by a knock on your bedroom door.

"Come in, mom."you said, putting your phone aside to put all your attention on your mother, who entered smiling.

"Honey, the neighbor is looking for you, she needs to talk to you." You frowned at her words.

The neighbor? Why did she want to talk to you?

"Sure, I'll come downstairs." She nodded and left quickly.

You took a gray sweatshirt and black jeans, along with some red high-top Converse, you combed your hair a bit, trying to look presentable, once you were ready you took one last look in the mirror and went down to the living room, where you found yourself your mother next to the neighbor, both spoke smiling, they had tea and cookies in front of them.

Which wasn't too strange, you were used to your mother having an excessive amount of visits every day, let's just say that in part she was a bit like the social butterfly in the house, whenever she talked to someone she ended up being their friend quickly, maybe Because of her charisma and lack of shyness, you weren't that similar to her in that.

"Oh y/n how big you are, darling." You smiled looking at the lady in front of you.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." You sat next to your mother on the sofa. "My mother told me that you wanted to talk to me, I hope I'm not in trouble." You joked, making them both laugh.

"Yes, darling, I wanted to talk to you, the neighbor, Mrs. Luisa, told me that you had taken care of her daughters on several occasions."she smiled, taking a bit of her tea. "And she said that you were the best babysitter in the world, like that I was wondering if you could take care of Camila and Leo, you see, my husband and I have to go to a charity event, and gavi had to leave early."

You smiled when you heard the boy's name. "Of course, I don't have any problem."

"You're an Angel, thank you very much, beautiful," she said smiling, getting up from her place. "Well, if you could go at five, that would be amazing."

"Of course, we'll see you at five, then."

After walking her to the door, you went to the kitchen to prepare a sandwich, you continued reading for a while longer, waiting for it to be time to leave.

You took a backpack, where you put some extra clothes, in case you needed to stay the night, in addition to some things you needed like your charger and allergy pills.

"Are you leaving, honey?" Your mother asked with a smile, you nodded, kissed her cheek and left your house quickly, walking for only a few seconds, reaching your neighbor's house across the street.

You knocked a couple of times, being received by your neighbor, who looked very elegant, she was wearing a beautiful navy blue dress, with pearls and her hair up, you smiled when I invited you in, you greeted her husband, who also looked quite elegant in a suit that matched his wife's.

"Y/n!"You smiled when you felt little Camila hug you by her legs.

Your neighbors had three children, Gavi, the eldest, who was seventeen, just like you, Camila, four, and Leo, who was barely nine months old.

You took the little blonde in your arms, smiling when she hugged you by the neck, you waited a bit until her parents were ready, to say goodbye to them, you had Leo carrying one arm, while you held Camila, who was saying goodbye to their parents by hand.

Camila and Leo's parents had taken care of giving you all the instructions to take care of them, so you felt quite safe, also, you had taken care of children before too many times, so it wouldn't be a big problem.

"Well, what do you want to do now, honey?" you asked, looking at little Camila.

"Could you make popcorn and put on a princess movie for me?" She ask tenderly, you nodded smiling.

As she requested, you made her popcorn and then put on the Sleeping Beauty movie, smiling to see her so calm eating popcorn and watching her movie. So you decided to leave the little one playing in his chair for lunch while you prepared dinner.

You would make dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes for Camila and you, for the little one I'll read an apple porridge, and later when it was time to sleep you would heat her bottle, which you would do at once.

You were humming a song by Shawn Mendes, moving from one side to the other, feeling like you were in your own music video, once the food was ready you sat next to Camila, who was still watching the movie while eating her nuggets and mash, next to a little orange juice, at the same time that you gave Leo his porridge. After that you played a bit with the two of them on the carpet.

"My brother is teaching me to read," the little girl whispered excitedly, caressing Leo's head, who was on your lap.

"Leo?" you asked, pretending to be surprised, just joking with her.

The blonde denied quickly."No! Leo still can't even eat alone, silly."she laughed at the nickname."I'm talking about gavi, my older brother, do you know him?"

"Let's just say I've heard a bit about him." You smiled.

After giving Camila a bath while Leo was in his walker, you put on his pajamas and untangled his hair, and then put on the baby's pajamas, the three of them went to the kitchen, because you had to warm up little Leo's bottle.

"I don't know if I can sleep tonight," the little girl whispered, pouting.

"Why, honey?" you asked with some confusion, putting the bottle in the microwave.

"It's just... I always have a hard time sleeping, or I have nightmares, Gavi always tells me a nice story before going to sleep, but it's almost time to sleep and he's not here."Small tears slipped down her eyes.

"Oh no, darling, don't cry." You approached her quickly, wiping her tears. "When I was your age, I also had trouble sleeping, but I remember that my mother gave me a glass of warm milk and that helped me a lot, so I ... how about I give you some warm milk? Also, I promise to read you all the stories you want until you fall asleep, do you like the idea?"

"Yes!"She got up from her place and then hugged you with emotion."You are the best babysitter in the world.

"Aww, thank you so much honey," you whispered hugging her, feeling your heart crush with tenderness.

After giving her the glass of warm milk, you took Leo in your arm, to then shake Camila's hand to her room, covered her with the blankets and made sure to kiss her goodnight that her older brother used to give her.

"Okay, I'll read Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs first." She nodded smiling, covering herself a little more with her blankets.

While you were reading, you gave Leo a bottle and it took just a few paragraphs for both of them to fall sound asleep. You made sure that Camila was well covered by the blankets, and then you left the baby in his crib, turned on the night light in the shape of stars and take the glass of milk to the kitchen. You did the dinner dishes, as well as tidying up everything they messed up while playing.

You took a shower and put on your pajamas, walking barefoot to the kitchen to get some juice, just as you were serving this the front door rang, you thought it was the children's parents, but you knew it wasn't when you felt arms passing through your waist, you smiled, knowing exactly who it was.

"If I had known that mom would hire such a cute babysitter, I would have gotten home much earlier." You laughed, still with your back to him.

"You're an idiot-" the words hung in the air when you looked at his white shirt, which was stained red on the abdomen, he noticed your horrified look, then he took your hand, and then kissed it.

"It's nothing, don't worry, I just fell while playing soccer with Pedri and scratched my abdomen a little," he explained, trying to reassure you, which obviously didn't work.

"Take off your shirt, gavi." you whispered, trying to sound calm, he raised his eyebrows giving you an amused look.

"Honey, the kids are upstairs, now n-

"Pablo..." you whispered with an authoritative tone, he rolled his eyes, got rid of his jean jacket, and then took off his white shirt, you looked horrified at the area of ​​his ribs, where there was a fairly noticeable scratch, which still seemed be bleeding."My God."

"It's nothing, honey." You gave him a dirty look, he laughed.

You told your boyfriend to stay in his place, you went to his room, and then to the bathroom, knowing exactly where the first aid kit was located, it was certainly not the first time you went to his house, although you usually did when he was alone.

When you got to the kitchen you found him drinking your orange juice, you smiled.

"How is it that even with a scratch on your rib you still look so good?" you asked smiling, making him laugh.

"I don't know, I think they made me with a lot of love," he replied arrogantly, making you laugh this time, before kissing your forehead.

You took the cotton full of alcohol, to begin to pass it carefully through his wound, you heard some moans and curses on his part, which made you laugh slightly, once you finished you put some healing cream and some bandages.

"Okay, now get dressed, idiot." You threw the shirt at him, making him laugh.

"Oh come on, you were totally enjoying the view," he tease, this time it was you who laughed.

"There's a reason you're my boyfriend, that's all I'll say."

He gave you an amused look, before carrying you into his arms to his room, you laughed as he got on top of you and started tickling you.

"You're the best girlfriend in the world, you know that?" I ask approaching you.

"Yes, but I like it when you say it."you both laughed, he took you by the cheek and joined his lips, in a kiss that was a little longer than you expected.

After that, you accompanied Gavi to kiss his sister good night and they both stayed watching movies on the sofa, until he ended up falling asleep on your lap, you got up, trying not to be too loud to wake him up, you took a from the blankets on the other sofa and covered him with this one.

You picked up Gavi's clothes that had been left in the kitchen, you left them in the dirty clothes and then you stayed with him stroking his hair watching the movie, you wanted to be awake in case one of the brothers woke up, and that's how it was, you ran to the listening to Leo's crying, you took him in your arms and he calmed down while you sang to him a bit, preparing another bottle, to give it to him sitting on the sofa, with Gavi still asleep.

The sound of the door indicated the arrival of the parents, who smiled when they saw you with Leo in your arms and Gavi on your lap completely asleep.

*Oh God, I think I'll have to pay you extra to take care of gavi."the woman joked, she laughed just like they did. "If you want, you can take Gavi to bed, I'll take care of Leo," she proposed, smiling, you agreed.

As you handed the baby over, you told them how the afternoon and evening had been, and they talked about how well their event had gone.

"Gavi, darling." caressing her hair, you were kneeling next to her, he smiled.

"I'm awake, I swear," he whispered, his voice sleepy, making you laugh a little.

"Yes, of course, now we are going to take you to bed, silly."

Once he got up, you took it upon yourself to take him to his room, all the way he kept his eyes closed and babbling.

"And my goodnight kiss?" He ask, once you left him on the bed, making you laugh a little, you rolled your eyes and approached him, leaving a kiss on his forehead, he quickly frowned, opening his eyes , making you laugh.

"Good night, gavi sweet dreams."

(...)

"Oh my God, these pancakes are delicious, mom." You laughed at Gavi's comment, who looked like a little boy, while you gave Leo his bottle, because you had already eaten, but the others hadn't.

"Don't thank me, y/n took care of everything today." She proudly pointed at you, making you smile.

"y/n is the best babysitter!—She laughed at Camila's comment."I already want you to leave home again so that she can take care of me."

"I think your brother thinks the same, Cam."His father joked, making you laugh out loud, and gavi choke on his pancake.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter five of ten

wc. 3.4K

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3| part 4 | part 6

The hideout had always been a place of shadows and secrets. Its halls were dim, its atmosphere heavy with the weight of Geto’s ambitions and the dangers that lurked just beyond its walls. But despite the gloom, Geto had gone out of his way to ensure that you had a place of peace, a sanctuary for you and the life you were carrying. He had found the one room in the entire hideout that caught the sunlight, a small, bright space tucked away from the rest of the chaos—a room where you could prepare for your baby’s arrival.

Now, at nine months pregnant, your body felt heavy and slow as you moved through the nursery Geto had so thoughtfully prepared. The soft rays of the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow on the few simple but cherished pieces of furniture you had collected. A small bassinet sat in the corner, draped with delicate, pale curtains, and there was a rocking chair by the window where you often sat, hands resting on your swollen belly, dreaming of the future you and Geto would build for your child.

He had left days ago, leading his most trusted followers on na important mission abroad. It was a rare opportunity to further his cause, and although he hated leaving you behind, especially in your condition, he had been firm that you should stay safe. “The baby needs you,” he had said softly, placing a hand over your stomach. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

And so, you waited. The hideout felt more empty without him, more cold and desolate than ever. The dark halls seemed to stretch endlessly in his absence, and despite the warmth of the nursery, you couldn’t shake the sense of unease that crept in whenever you were alone. You had tried to ignore it, tried to focus on nesting and preparing for the baby, but something inside you felt off—like a storm brewing just beyond the horizon.

You rubbed your belly absentmindedly, feeling the baby shift inside you as you placed a folded blanket into the bassinet. The gentle weight of impending motherhood settled over you, both comforting and terrifying. In just a few days—perhaps even hours—your world would change forever. You would bring a new life into the world, a child that would be part of the future Geto dreamed of. The thought both thrilled and frightened you.

But even in your joy, something lingered in the back of your mind. A whisper of a fear you couldn’t quite banish, one that grew louder in the moments when the hideout was too quiet, too still.

And then, the door creaked open.

You turned slowly, heart racing, expecting one of Geto’s followers, someone bringing you news of the mission. But when your eyes landed on the figure standing in the doorway, your breath caught in your throat, your entire body freezing in shock.

He stood there, tall and imposing, his usual playful demeanor absent, replaced by something darker, something more focused. His piercing blue eyes, no longer hidden by the blindfold, locked onto you, and in that moment, the nursery seemed to shrink, the walls closing in around you.

“Satoru,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sudden pounding of your heart.

Gojo took a step forward, his gaze flicking briefly to your swollen belly, the weight of his stare settling over you like a physical pressure. He didn’t say anything at first, but the tension in the air was palpable, thick and suffocating. His presence was overwhelming, and you could feel the unspoken words hanging between you like a blade ready to drop.

The sunlight that had felt so warm and comforting moments ago now felt cold, casting long shadows across the room as Gojo moved closer. His eyes were hard, his expression unreadable, but beneath the surface, you could sense something simmering—anger, confusion, hurt.

“You’re pregnant,” he said finally, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

You swallowed hard, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly as if to shield yourself from the weight of his gaze. “Yes,” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “I’m having Geto’s child.”

The words felt heavy on your tongue, and as you spoke them aloud, you could see the way they hit Gojo, his posture stiffening, his jaw tightening. For a long moment, he said nothing, simply staring at you, the silence stretching on like a wound that refused to heal.

“How could you?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief, but there was something else there too—something that felt like betrayal.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “But this is where I belong now.”

Gojo shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Belong? Here? With him?” He took another step forward, his presence looming over you. “You don’t belong here. You’re carrying his child, and you think that’s where you belong?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You left me with no choice, Satoru,” you said, your voice trembling but filled with a quiet determination. “You rejected me, you made it clear I wasn’t part of your world. Geto gave me something you never could.”

Gojo’s eyes flashed with something—regret, perhaps, or maybe anger—but whatever it was, it was buried quickly beneath the cool mask he wore. “And now you’re just… what? A pawn in his game? A tool to help him build whatever twisted future he has planned?”

You shook your head, the tears finally spilling over as you spoke. “It’s not like that. He cares about me. About our child. He’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You think this is what you want? To raise his child in the darkness of a hideout while he tears apart the world? Do you even understand what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

You stood up straighter, even though your body ached under the weight of the pregnancy, even though the fear of Gojo’s presence made your heart pound. “I understand enough, Satoru. Geto has a vision, and I’m part of that now. This child will be part of that.”

Gojo’s expression softened for just a moment, a flicker of something more vulnerable crossing his face. “You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly, his voice no longer filled with anger but something closer to pleading. “You don’t have to be with him. You don’t have to be part of this.”

You shook your head, your heart breaking as you realized how deeply the divide between the two of you had grown. “It’s too late for that, Satoru. I’ve made my choice.”

For a long moment, Gojo said nothing, the silence between you heavy and painful. He glanced around the nursery, his eyes lingering on the small bassinet, the rocking chair, the preparations you had made for your child’s arrival. There was something almost broken in his expression as he took it all in, as if he was realizing just how much had changed, how far apart the two of you had grown.

Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, stepping back toward the door. “Geto will use you,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. “Just like he uses everyone else.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone once again in the nursery, the room now feeling colder, darker, and emptier than it ever had before.

You stood there for a long moment, the weight of Gojo’s words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. But as you rested a hand on your belly, feeling the faint movements of the life growing inside you, you knew you had made your choice.

No matter what Gojo believed, this was your path now. You had chosen Geto, and you would see it through.

For the sake of your child.

The day your child was born felt surreal, as though the world outside the walls of the hideout had disappeared, leaving only you, your child, and the intensity of the moment.

You had been alone in the nursery when the first wave of contractions hit, the sharp pain taking you by surprise and doubling you over. You’d felt the discomfort for days, but now, it was clear that your baby was ready. Panic surged through you as you realized Geto wasn’t back yet. He had assured you he would return in time, but now that moment had come, and you were alone.

Sweat dripped from your forehead as you gripped the rocking chair for support, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You had prepared for this, you had known it would happen soon, but no amount of preparation could truly brace you for the overwhelming reality of childbirth.

One of Geto’s followers rushed into the room, sensing your distress. She had some basic knowledge of midwifery, enough to guide you through the initial stages of labor. But you needed more than guidance—you needed Geto. You clung to the thought of him, picturing his face, the steady strength in his gaze, the calm confidence he always exuded. You needed that now, more than ever.

Hours passed in a blur of pain and effort. The contractions grew stronger, each one feeling like it would tear you apart, but you held on. You held on for your child, for the future you and Geto had envisioned. The follower stayed by your side, her presence a small comfort in the chaos, but you felt the absence of Geto like a physical ache.

The room was dim, the sunlight long gone, leaving only the faint flicker of a candle on the windowsill to light the space. The once peaceful nursery, which had felt like a sanctuary, was now filled with the sounds of your strained breaths and the low hum of the cursed energy that pulsed faintly in the walls.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, the moment came.

A cry. Sharp and clear, cutting through the silence.

Your body went limp with relief as the follower gently placed the tiny, squirming baby into your arms. The weight of your child, the warmth of their small body against your chest, overwhelmed you with a tidal wave of emotions—love, exhaustion, fear, and a fierce protectiveness you had never known you were capable of.

You looked down at the baby, your baby, and for the first time, you saw them. A tiny, wriggling being, their face scrunched up in a wail, their fists clenched as they protested their abrupt entrance into the world. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gently cradled them, your heart swelling with a love so powerful it felt like it might consume you.

“It’s a girl,” the follower said softly, her voice full of reverence. “She’s perfect.”

You stared down at your daughter, your fingers trembling as you gently touched her tiny cheek. She was perfect. Everything you had endured, everything you had sacrificed—it had all been for this moment. For her.

But there was still something missing. Someone.

The follower must have seen the longing in your eyes because she smiled softly. “He’ll be back soon. He’ll be here for you both.”

You nodded, though the worry gnawed at you. Where was Geto? You had thought of him every moment through the labor, desperately wishing he could be there for the birth of his child. He had promised to return before this moment, but he hadn’t.

Hours passed, and you drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, the exhaustion of childbirth pulling you under, only to be jolted awake by the soft whimpers of your daughter. Each time, you held her close, feeling the rise and fall of her tiny chest against yours, her presence a balm for the anxiety that kept creeping back.

Finally, just before dawn, the sound of the door creaking open roused you fully from sleep. You blinked groggily, your body aching and sore, but the sight of Geto standing in the doorway chased away all your pain and fear in an instant.

He was covered in the grime of battle, his dark robes streaked with dirt and dried blood, but his eyes—those deep, intense eyes—were filled with something you had never seen before: awe.

Geto crossed the room in long, purposeful strides, his usually calm and collected demeanor cracking as he dropped to his knees beside the bed. His hands, shaking for the first time since you had known him, reached out to touch the small bundle in your arms.

“She’s here,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion. “Our daughter.”

Geto’s breath hitched, his eyes wide as he gazed down at the tiny face peeking out from the blanket. His hand gently brushed against her cheek, and for a moment, he was utterly still, as if the gravity of the moment had rendered him speechless.

He let out a shaky breath, his voice barely a whisper. “She’s beautiful.”

You smiled, tears welling up in your eyes again. “She’s perfect.”

For a long moment, the three of you stayed like that—Geto kneeling beside you, his hand resting on your daughter, the weight of everything unspoken passing between you. This was what you had fought for, what you had endured for. This was your family.

Geto’s eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of love and pride. “You did it,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You brought her into this world.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you said, your voice trembling with exhaustion and relief.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before resting his head against yours. “I’ll always be here,” he whispered. “For you, for her. Always.”

As you held your daughter in your arms, with Geto by your side, the world outside the walls of the hideout felt far away. It was just the three of you now—your new family, your new future.

No matter what awaited beyond this moment, you knew that you had made the right choice. This was where you belonged.

The days after your daughter’s birth passed in a strange, dreamlike blur. The hideout, which had always been dark and oppressive, felt different now. The shadows seemed softer, the heavy atmosphere lightened by the presence of your newborn. She had brought a new energy into the space, a fragile peace that seemed to exist solely within the nursery walls.

Geto spent as much time with you and your daughter as his duties allowed. His missions and plans still called him away frequently, but whenever he returned, his first stop was always the nursery. You’d find him standing by the crib, watching over your daughter with na expression that was both tender and fierce—protective, proud. He would hold her in his arms, his usually stoic face softening as she cooed or wriggled against his chest.

The way he looked at her, the way he looked at you, made your heart swell with na emotion you couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t just love, though that was certainly there. It was deeper, more intense—a shared purpose that bound the three of you together. This was the future you and Geto had chosen. This was the family you had dreamed of building.

But outside the safety of the nursery, the world was still a dangerous place. The tension between Geto’s faction and Jujutsu High was growing, and every day seemed to bring new rumors of conflict. You tried not to let it affect you, tried to focus on your daughter and the quiet moments you shared with her, but it was impossible to ignore the looming threat.

One afternoon, as you sat in the rocking chair by the window, your daughter cradled in your arms, Geto entered the room. He had just returned from a mission—his robes still dusty from travel—but he didn’t come in with the usual quiet calm that had become his hallmark. There was a tension in his posture, a heaviness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked up, concern flickering across your face. “What is it?”

Geto’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at you and your daughter, but the worry in his expression didn’t disappear. He came to sit beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “We need to talk.”

The seriousness in his voice sent a chill down your spine. You shifted your daughter in your arms, your heart starting to race as you waited for him to continue.

“There’s been… movement from Jujutsu High,” Geto said, his tone low and measured. “They’re becoming more aggressive in their attempts to undermine us. I’ve heard from our sources that Gojo’s been pushing for a direct confrontation.”

Gojo. The name sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you—memories of your old life, of the way things had been before you had chosen this path with Geto. You hadn’t seen Gojo since the day he had found you in the nursery, months ago, when he had confronted you about your choice to stay with Geto. The memory of that encounter still lingered in your mind, sharp and painful.

“What does that mean?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Geto’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening slightly on your shoulder. “It means they might come after us more directly. We’ve managed to stay ahead of them so far, but it’s only a matter of time before they make a move.”

Your heart sank. You had known that this conflict was coming, but hearing it confirmed—hearing that Gojo, of all people, was leading the charge—made the threat feel all the more real.

“What do we do?” you asked quietly, looking down at your daughter, who was blissfully unaware of the danger that surrounded her.

Geto’s gaze softened as he watched you, his expression filled with a mixture of love and determination. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you both,” he said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”

You nodded, though the fear gnawing at your chest didn’t dissipate. You trusted Geto, believed in his strength, but the thought of Gojo and the forces of Jujutsu High bearing down on your family was a terrifying one.

“Is there… anything we can do to stop it?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Geto sighed, his fingers brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “There are plans in motion,” he said carefully. “But it’s complicated. Gojo’s power makes him a formidable opponent. We need to be strategic.”

The weight of those words hung heavy between you. Gojo was strong—stronger than almost anyone. You had seen firsthand the power he wielded, and though you had chosen Geto’s side, a part of you couldn’t help but fear what Gojo might be capable of if it came to a direct confrontation.

Geto seemed to sense your fear, and he leaned closer, his voice low and soothing. “We’ve built something beautiful here,” he said, his eyes flickering to your daughter before meeting yours again. “Our family. Our future. And I’ll protect it with everything I have.”

You nodded, trying to hold on to that reassurance, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind. You knew Geto was powerful, that he was capable of great things, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawed at you.

As the days passed, the atmosphere in the hideout grew more tense. Geto’s followers were on edge, constantly preparing for the possibility of na attack. You tried to keep your focus on your daughter, on the small moments of peace you could still find within the nursery, but the sense of impending danger was impossible to ignore.

One evening, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the walls of the nursery, you sat by the window with your daughter in your arms. She was starting to open her eyes more often now, her tiny hands reaching out to grab at the world around her. You smiled softly, brushing a hand over her soft hair.

“I’ll keep you safe,” you whispered to her, though the words were as much a promise to yourself as they were to her. “No matter what.”

But even as you made that promise, the weight of the conflict brewing outside the walls of the hideout pressed down on you. You had chosen this path with Geto, chosen to be part of his world, but the reality of that choice was becoming more dangerous by the day.

And somewhere out there, you knew Gojo was waiting.

Waiting for the moment to strike.

notes: if you wanna be tagged just let me know! <3

la·bour /ˈlābər/ noun 1. work, especially hard physical work. "all day, every day, therapist, mother, maid" 3. the process of childbirth "just an appendage, live to attend him"

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss @asahinasstuff @feitanett @xdinaryheroesstan @laviefantasie @hyunsuks-beanie @starlightanyaaa @tanyaspartak @forever-paramore28 @saatorubby @ssetsuka @archiveoftherain @kxrla-20

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[lovinggreeniehours]

im jumping from left to right with my obsessions right now but the funniest thing about arickett is sometimes ill worry im writing beckett too cutely or ooc and then i look back on my screenshots from te and then be like "oh. nevermind he was worse in the source material"

[ya9amicide]

The End of the World In a Woman’s Hands [Newsies]

chapter nine

♡ newsies masterlist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ♡

summary: Being a girl in the everyday world is difficult. Being the leader of the Manhattan Newsies and a girl? Even more so. Especially when nobody knows you're a girl and the truth is the closest kept secret you have ever had. For Jack Kelly, keeping the truth of her gender a secret is one she's found easy after doing so for many years. Unfortunately, having close encounters with the iron fist, Pulitzer, and a new Newsie who seems determined to get to know her, that secret might just become the opposite.

pairing: fem!jack kelly x david “davey” jacobs

warnings: none

The next morning, all of the captured Newsies are brought to a courtroom for a hearing. “Arise, arise, court is now in session, Judge E.A. Monahan presiding,” the Bailiff announces.

Weasel is in the gallery as Judge Movealong Monahan takes the bench and glances down at a group of battered Newsies, including Spot, Race, and Boots. “Any of you represented by counsel? No? Good. That'll move things along considerably.”

“Judge Movealong, ya honor, I object,” Spot pipes up,

“On what grounds?”

He grins proudly. “On the grounds of Brooklyn, ya honor!”

The Newsies congratulate Spot and Monahan bangs the gavel. “I fine you each five dollars or two weeks confinement in-”

“Five bucks!” Race blanches. “We ain't got five cents!”

Denton stands to defend them. “I'll pay the fines. All of them.”

“Pay the clerk. Next.” The Judge moves them along as the Newsies hound Denton with gratitude. Suddenly David gasps, seeing Jack led out in shackles, her face bruised and swollen. Everybody stares, horrified.

She smiles at them like everything was okay. “Hiya, fellas! Hey, Denton. Guess we made all the papes this time, huh? How'd my picture look?”

“None of the papers covered the rally. Not even The Sun.” He watches her solemnly as her face turns to disbelief. The Bailiff shoves Jack in front of the bench and Snyder slips in from a side door.

“Case of Jack Kelly, inciting to riot, assault, resisting arrest,” the Bailiff lists.

Snyder walks forward. “Judge Monahan, I'll speak for this young man.”

Jack mocks surprise. “You two know each other? Ain't that nice.”

“Just move it along, Warden Snyder,” the Judge tells him.

“You see, Jack Kelly isn’t Jack Kelly at all. In fact, he is really a young woman named Francine Sullivan. Mother deceased, father a convict in the state penitentiary.”

Jack’s care-free facade cracks and she stares at Snyder with wide, startled eyes. The Newsies all watch her with confused and shocked faces.

“She is currently an escapee from the House of Refuge, where her original sentence of three months for theft was extended six months for disruptive behavior-”

“Like demandin' you give us the food you steal from us!” She yells at him, face red and overcome with a tearful anger.

“Followed by an additional six months for an attempted escape.”

Her voice is panicked and desperate now. Almost deranged. “Last time wasn't no attempt, remember, Snyder? Me and Teddy Roosevelt. Remember, Roosevelt an’ the carriage?”

“Therefore, I ask that she be returned to the House of Refuge-”

“For my own good, right, Movealong? And for what Snyder kicks back to ya!”

“And that the court order her incarceration until the age of twenty-one.” The Newsies stand and yell in outrage. “In the hope that we may yet guide her to a useful and productive life.”

The Judge bangs his gavel again. “So ordered. Next.”

Jack seems to give up at this, body going limp as she’s dragged out of the room.

That night she’s brought into Pulitzer’s office, cuffs jiggling on her wrists in front of her. “Afternoon, boys,” she says as she comes to a stop.

“And which Francine Sullivan is this? The charismatic union organizer, or the petty thief and escaped convict?” Pulitzer asks.

She narrows her eyes at him. “Which one gives us more in common?” Her expression turns cheeky. “And please, Joe. We been business partners long enough. You can call me Jack. Jacqueline if you’d prefer that, I s’pose.”

“You know what I was doing when I was your age? I was in a war. The Civil War.”

“I heard of it. You win?”

“People think wars are about right and wrong. They're not. They're about power. You know what power is?”

“Heard of that, too. I don't just sell ya papes, Joe. Sometimes I read 'em.”

He ignores her and continues on. “Power means that I could see to it that you serve your full sentence at the Refuge. Or I could pull strings and have you free tomorrow. It means I could give you my pocket change, and you'd have more money than you'd likely ever earn.”

“You bribin' me, Joe? Thanks for the compliment, but I ain't got the power to stop the strike.”

“I disagree. You're the spirit of the strike, without you, they'd fall apart in a few days.”

Jack stops listening, not thinking he’s serious. “Ring for my coach, willya? It's past my bedtime.”

“Shut your mouth and listen!” Jack looks up, startled at his outburst. “You're going to do exactly as I say.”

“Or what? You'll send me back to the Refuge? I'll bust out again.”

“And be a fugitive who's pursued and caught and returned.” He steps around his desk to stand in front of her where he towers above her frame. “You return to your old job–as Newsie for The World. Speak against this hopeless strike, and I’ll see your criminal record expunged and your pockets filled with enough cash to carry you, in a first-class train compartment, from New York to New Mexico and beyond.”

“There ain’t a person in this room who don’t know you stink.”

“And if they know me, they know I don’t care. Mark my words, girl. Defy me, and I will have you and every one of your friends locked up in The Refuge. I know you like playing Mr. Tough Guy, but it’s not right to condemn that little crippled boy to conditions like that,” his voice drips in mock sympathy. “And what about your pal Davey and his baby brother, ripped from their loving family and tossed to the rats? Will they ever be able to thank you enough?”

Jack’s head whips up and some of Snyder’s men have to hold her back as she tries to go after Pulitzer. “Don’t you touch ‘em! You don't’ get to lay a hand on my boys, you hear? Don't even talk about ‘em!” She’s snarling at him, causing Pulitzer and his associates to step back slightly in fear.

Pulitzer signals to Snyder. “You go back to the Refuge. Think it over in your cell. Let me know in the morning.” Snyder grabs her by the scruff and escorts her out of the room.

[dragon-kazansky]

A whole year later

Turns out I fell for this dude a year ago. Those of you who found me at the time will know I went on to write a lot for this man. So, a year on, here we are again. Enjoy!

♡♡♡

You open the windows and let the fresh air in. The sun flooding into the room as soon as you open the curtains, and opening the windows seemed like a good idea. You smile as you listen to the hustle of the town just outside.

Leaning against the window, you close your eyes and just listen.

This has been your life for a whole year now. Waking up to this, to him. Breakfast shared together, a stroll into town, trips around the country, occasionally out of the country, lavish dinners, dancing, late night walks, passionate nights at home.

This may not have been a life you ever saw for yourself, however, you wouldn't exchange it for the world.

Helmut Zemo saved you when you needed him most, and from there you have been attached at the hip. He came to you anytime you needed him. You saved him when it counted most. You would be lost without the other.

So focused on the peace you were experiencing, you didn't hear your husband enter the room. He closes the door quietly behind him and smiles at the sight of you by the window. His footsteps are silent as he crosses the room over to where you stand.

Arms circle around you. A gasp leaves your lips as your eyes snap open. Lips trail along your neck in soft kisses, his nose nudging along the skin ever so slightly. You relax and melt into his embrace.

"You startled me."

His breath brushes past your jaw as he laughs quietly.

"I apologise, my love. You looked so serene. I didn't really want to disturb you, but I couldn't resist."

You smile and turn to face him. His arms remained settled around you, even pulling you into his chest a bit as you look at him. Your lips brush with his as you smile.

"Is breakfast ready?" You ask, keeping your voice low. You liked the atmosphere created here, and didn't want to ruin it.

"I thought, perhaps, we make it together today?"

You grin at him.

"I like the sound of that."

With your hand in his, you head toward to the kitchen, leaving the open window. The walk down to the kitchen is slow, neither of you in any rush to get there. Often, you would both soak in the company of the other, just letting the minutes pass by. This was one of those moments.

Upon entering the kitchen, you let go of his hand and follow his lead. Helmut pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and grabs ingredients. You turn the radio on and let it play quietly in the background. You both get started on breakfast.

Not a word is spoken between you. Smiles, glances, the odd bubble of laughter. No words are needed when you can understand each other so perfectly.

Breakfast is made and served. You sit down together. You eat. You chat. You hold hands.

Before Zemo, life was nothing like this.

After breakfast you both clean up and head upstairs to change into some comfortable clothes. Helmut wants to take you out into town. You agree.

You walk hand in hand through town. He points things out to you, you have a look I'm shop windows, he gets you some lunch out on the street, you sit together and admire passing people. It's beautiful. It's perfect.

By mid-afternoon you have a few shopping bags, you've walked along the beach, you've had a little coffee date.

By evening, Helmut has you dress up to the nines. He takes your hand and leads you out of town. On a hill, overlooking the town you call home these days, there is a small table set up with a candle lit.

Helmut pulls out a chair for you. You sit down. He takes the chair opposite you and smiles.

"Do you realise we have been married a year today?" He asks.

You stare at him.

"Has it been a year already? I hadn't realised."

He chuckles. The sound is warm and inviting. It makes you smile at him. His eyes shine with love and joy as he gazes at you.

"It had. Do not fret for not realising. Our time together has been wonderful and so full of fond times. Time has passed us by quietly and quickly. I look forward to many more years together, just like this one."

You smile at him. His words have your heart melting in your chest. You reach over and take his hand in yours.

"I love you."

He smiles back just as fondly, squeezing your hand in his.

"I love you."

His butler brings you food he had prepared for the occasion. You both tuck in.

You can't believe it's been a year already. You gaze up at the man you love sitting across from you. You smile.

This is just the beginning of many more years to come.