#it was so chilly and cold but so fond and i was just on my own and admiring the beauty of the world

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

FIREFLIES NEVER CAME ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your seat is close to the heater. that’s the only reason gojo comes there to warm up.

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, teen!satoru, set in a canon au, mutual pining, fluff, a little bittersweet (melancholic winter vibes <3), introvert/extrovert, reader is antisocial and dense as a brick (black cat vibes :3), also kind of self-deprecating, satoru is very shoujo manga coded, just lots of puppy love!! feat. wingman!suguru <3

a/n; this wasn’t meant to be a fic …… it was gonna be really short and sweet ……… (T_T) anyway i am very fond of this reader/character dynamic so i hope you enjoy reading abt my emotionally stunted kids 🫶 biggest mwah in the world dedicated to professor logan (@staryukis) for teaching me about physics so i could find a loophole in satoru’s infinity :3c all for the sake of lore-accurate (kinda) fluff <3

”what are you listening to?”

your seat is close to the heater. 

it was nothing but a lucky draw, really. yaga-sensei was organizing the desks when you transferred, and so he gave you the first choice; one you had no trouble making, latching on to the chair in the very back, right by the window, right by the sole heater of the room. vital for surviving your chilly winter classes. 

so there you sit. a warmth sneaks through your fuzzy socks, tends to your restless legs. your feet tap and tap, on the cold floorboards, in rhythm with your never-ending thoughts, spinning like a planet in orbit.

through the fogged-up, frosted glass of the window to your left, you observe the world. headphones covering your ears, safe and snug, muffling all noise. you watch as snow falls, wholly entranced, eyes stuck on the icy snowflakes descending from the wool-gray sky — blanketing the frostbitten landscape of the courtyard. it’s pretty, all those skeletal trees, glittering and gleaming like they have something to say. sometimes they look like stars.

”… hey. did you hear me?”

gojo is being particularly chatty, today.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him wave his hand right in front of your face. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s rude; he must be used to all eyes being on him, from the moment he speaks.

with a flutter of your lashes, you lift your weary head. meeting his gaze, the blurry shine of your own visage, reflected in his circle-frame glasses. a soft tilt of his head, and then his lips are twitching upwards, just barely, snowy strands gliding across his forehead and falling over his face. like an excited puppy.

”what are you listening to?”

you read the words off his lips, all sound muffled by your headphones. quick to lift one of your hands, pulling one of the heavy ear cushions away — letting all white noise in the room flood your senses. the snarls of the wind outside, ieiri’s laughter, the scribbling of geto’s pen against paper. 

it’s overwhelming, but a small price to pay. his voice is softer than usual, during moments like these; there’s a pleasant lull to it.

gojo tips his head to the right, still awaiting your response. all you can do is stare, watching your own reflection, fingers gripping onto the edge of your desk. as if seeking to ground yourself.

with a spoonful of hesitance, you part your lips.

”… do you like music?”

the words seep out into the air, a softly exhaled breath. gojo watches you, silently, for just a moment.

then he gives you a shrug.

”i guess?” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to another — hand slipping into the pocket of his uniform. ”that’s more suguru’s thing.”

ah.

your mouth forms around the syllable, as if responding, but not making any sound. gaze fleeing from his glasses, crumbling under their weight, straying towards the frosted window to your left. safe, familiar, rotting trees and twitching branches. snow just as pure as the boy in front of you.

silence overtakes you both, once more. 

”... not gonna answer?” he asks, with another tilt of his head, absently rocking side to side as he lets out an exhale. ”is it a secret, or something?”

(it is, you think. but you can’t say it out loud.)

before you can part your lips again, the classroom door slides open — and you know it’s yaga-sensei just by the way his feet hit the floorboards, the decisive weight behind every step. you know even before he’s telling you to get back to your seats. 

on cue, gojo stands up straighter, shooting you another glance. bright-eyed, easy-going, every star in the sky leaping out from the glimpse you get of his eyes when he angles his body. two blue pools, flecked with white, like frozen puddles in the street. 

and then he’s strolling away.

gojo leaves, and you take off your headphones; stretching your legs underneath the desk. reaching for your ballpoint pencil, flipping open your textbook, and indulging in sleepy blinks, as yaga begins to drone on and on. you stifle a yawn with the sleeve of your blazer, resting your jaw on the heel of your palm. eyes inevitably straying towards a head of white hair.

but your name is called before you can get lost in your daydreams. 

”page 27, from the top.”

your chair scrapes against the floorboards, as you sluggishly stand up. holding onto your textbook, flipping the pages until you land on the correct passage. with shaky hands, not enough to notice, you read out loud; voice controlled, almost monotone. all you can think is that you feel his frost-clad eyes on you, from the row straight ahead.

but you continue to speak. you speak until you reach the end of the page, until you’re allowed to take your seat again, happy to feel the warmth of the heater radiate against your legs. it’s this warmth that’s important, the most important thing of all.

without it, gojo wouldn’t bother to stop by your desk.

nearly every recess, as soon as yaga leaves the classroom, he’s waltzing over — leaning against the wall, stretching his arms out, purring contentedly as heat spreads throughout his body. you think he must run cold. chatting with you, just to pass the time, just until your teacher comes back. just to warm up.

then he’s leaving, again.

that’s all it is. a cold boy, and a heater by your desk — a conversation that otherwise wouldn’t have occured. even the strongest is vulnerable to changes in temperature, you suppose.

though if warmth is all that binds him to you, it’s bound to dwindle away.

(you’re sure he’ll stop as soon as spring comes.)

the next day, gojo is nowhere to be seen. you saw yaga-sensei drag him out of the classroom this morning; something about a clan meeting, something you weren’t paying attention to.

but now you wish you had.

(it’s quiet, without him around. eerily so.)

with nothing to lose, and nothing else to do — you push your chair away from your desk, and walk up to your classmate, a question on your mind.

”… music? are you looking for recommendations?”

you nod. 

geto blinks. caught off guard, you’re sure, surprised that you’d approach him without any prior coaxing. he’s usually the one striking up a conversation with you, like a responsible class president, making sure the weird kid doesn’t feel left out. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s patronizing.

”hmm... well, that depends.” he gives you a smile, soft around the edges. it never feels as genuine as gojo’s, but it’s calming. ”what kind of music do you usually listen to?”

…

you glance down at the floor. bundling up the cuffs of your uniform, fingers clawing softly at the fabric, bottom lip trapped between two sets of teeth.

”… what kind of music does gojo like?”

silence. your words are barely spoken, just above a whisper, just like always, but geto picks up on them anyway. you can tell he does, can feel the weight of his keen eyes on your face. analytical.

then he parts his lips.

”… ohhh.” a low hum, ripe with meaning, buzzing at the bottom of his throat. the corners of his lips quirk up into a knowing smile. ”i see.”

heat rushes to your cheeks, blossoms under your skin. if he notices, he’s even more composed than you thought he was, because he doesn’t mention it. only continues to speak, in that soothing voice, crossing his arms in silent thought.

”hmm…” you follow his gaze, out towards the window, the same webs of frost as always. it’s not snowing, but you still can’t see the blue of the sky. ”i’ve never seen him listen to music before, so i wouldn’t know.”

you can’t help but deflate, at that.

geto only smiles. exhaling, through his nose, mildly humoured — though he’s good at hiding his amusement. ”… what do you think that means?”

a blink. your lashes flutter, as you gaze up at him. 

”… huh?”

”satoru doesn’t listen to music, but he wants to know what you’re listening to.” he says the words almost coachingly, like he’s listing off a string of numbers. you realize he must have been listening in on your conversation, but it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as his tone. ”what do you think that means?”

…

(you haven’t got a clue.)

geto lets out a chuckle, laced with mirth, no longer trying to hide it. paired with a soft shake of his head, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. ”why do you want to know about his taste in music, then?”

(… that’s a good question.)

he seems to notice your hesitance, your apprehension, the way your teeth seek to trap your bottom lip; always the victim of your muddled mind. you know the answer, of course you do — but it isn’t something you want others knowing. 

thankfully, geto breaks the silence for you.

”i don’t think you need to try so hard, when it comes to him.” his voice is soft, almost sincere, something warmer than usual. glancing away when you meet his eyes. ”… he isn’t worth the effort, anyway.”

but that’s where he’s wrong.

satoru gojo is a special case. a special person. in the orbit of your life, there’s no star you’d rather keep — no one quite as ripe with colour. 

geto couldn’t possibly understand, because gojo is always with him — always orbiting around him. he always will, until you graduate, probably even beyond that. geto has him. they’re the strongest, a pair, always matching their steps to one another. but you only have these quiet days, these chilly classes in between never-ending missions — and that’s all.

when the frost outside the window thaws, gojo will surely stop visiting your desk. your lonely little world. 

that’s exactly why — you need to find a song. if you just teach him about something wonderful enough, if you can give him something other than warmth…

(… maybe he’ll stay with you even after spring comes.)

”next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?” 

geto’s suggestion breaks you out of your thoughts. when you raise your head, to meet the warm pools of amber in his eyes, he gives you a smile. there’s nothing patronizing about the way he’s looking at you now — if anything, you think it may even be slightly fond, but you can never tell what he’s actually feeling. he’s frightening, like that, always a mirror to his circumstances. a chameleon, tilting his head at you.

… though you can’t help but fall victim to the kindness in his eyes. the velveteen purr of his voice.

”i’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

a nervous pit opens up in your chest, an empty space that gnaws incessantly at your heart. will he?, you want to ask, but it feels like the words are made out of lead. you can’t get them out of your throat.

”… okay,” is all you end up whispering, a soft lull of your tongue. ”i’ll try… thank you.”

geto rewards you with a full smile.

”don’t mention it.”

spring is closer than you thought.

it’s all you can think, when you step onto the pavement, when you feel the morning air gnaw at your frostbitten cheeks. it’s freezing, it’s winter, but the signs of changing seasons are still there — a lonesome snowdrop, the crackle of an icy puddle beneath your feet. the frost is beginning to thaw. 

in a month or so, spring will be here — there’s no stopping it.

”did you bring your card?”

your headphones rest around your neck, allowing you to listen in on your classmates' conversation. all four of you are together, for once, all first-years, walking towards the nearest konbini — at gojo’s insistence. 

it’s been a week since you had that talk with geto, but you still haven’t made any progress with him.

”huh? was i supposed to?”

”… are you kidding me?”

you glance up at the pair. always walking just a little bit ahead, their tall statures obscuring the view in front of you; shoko lags behind, with lazy steps, a trail of tobacco drifting out into the crispy air. all while snowflakes fall from the sky, gently, landing in your hair, on your shoulders, melting on the inside of your palm when you hold it out to catch them. watching as they turn into droplets of water, slip through the gaps between your fingers. 

someone taps your shoulder.

geto has snowflakes stuck in his hair. they’re melting, in the strands of ink-black framing his face, matching the colour of the thick polo jacket he’s wearing. a bright red scarf is tied around his throat, and there’s a weighty look in his eyes — something telling.

a silent cue.

he falls back, slowly but surely, into ieiri’s lazy pace. not before murmuring something unintelligible to gojo, and shooting you a wink — one that makes you frown, confused, a low heat blooming at the base of your spine and crawling up your neck.

and then you realize what he’s done.

gojo is looking right at you, through the black glass of his specs. only wearing a baseball jacket, no gloves or scarves to keep him warm, despite the harsh bite of the open air. for a guy who runs cold, he must not put much thought into his clothing. 

more importantly…

it’s just the two of you, now.

you blink at him, silent as a mouse. it only takes a moment for him to start moving, for you to follow, taking your place beside him while staring right ahead. if he’s bothered by geto slinking away, he doesn’t show it — only continues to walk.

”… that’s so unfair.”

gojo’s voice breaks the silence. you turn your head to gaze at him, the way his lips wrap around the vowels, haphazardly hanging onto every word he speaks.

”just ’cause i have clan money,” he kicks at a pebble on the side of the road, wisps of white hair swaying with a shake of his head, ”suguru thinks i should pay for our snacks. isn’t that unfair?”

you hesitate. then you nod along, absently.

he seems to take that as a yes, because it makes him brighten — as if gleaming with your approval, standing a little straighter, puffing out his chest with an exhale that turns into white smoke.

”right? they only give it to me because they want me to come back to kyoto, anyway…” he trails off, holding the tip of his tongue between his lips. ”… not that it matters. anyway, i just think he’s oppressive.”

”… mm.”

from this angle, you can see a sliver of his eyes. can see the way he steals a glance at you, without even turning his head — hands slipping into his pockets. there’s a moment of silence, until he’s parting his lips again. 

”… i can buy some for you, though.” 

(you barely pick up on the words, spoken almost in a whisper — as if an afterthought.)

he clears his throat.

”… if you don’t have the money, i mean.”

you can’t help but blink, at that — lashes fluttering in rapid succession, wondering if you heard him correctly. he doesn’t seem keen on elaborating, though. walking on, ignoring all snowflakes descending from the sky, eager to nuzzle in between his locks. his infinity keeps them out. 

”… why?”

it’s all you can say. all you can verbalize.

(in a story like this, why would the brightest star of all orbit around someone like you?)

gojo gives you another glance. his iris cuts into your skin, observes you on what you’re sure must be a molecular level. he lets silence linger, for a moment, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

gray, and more gray. flecks of white. you’d see the same thing he does. 

”hmm…” he lets out a breath, head falling forward again, snowy strands ghosting against the skin of his forehead. ”let’s call it a trade.”

another series of blinks. 

gojo turns towards you, then — a fresh grin blooming on his lips. white teeth, pink gums. it makes him look boyish, innocent, just another city boy with too much time on his hands.

”i buy you snacks — and you tell me what music you’re always listening to.” he bends his body forward, tilts his head at the same time, all lanky and charming, like a big cat. ”deal?”

you stay silent.

he’s looking at your headphones, still left neglected around your neck. your gaze falls down to the icy concrete, the thin layer of frost, waiting to be melted by the first sunrays of spring. whenever that will be. 

geto and shoko are still behind you — you can hear their low, muffled chatter, smell the remnants of tobacco in the air. and you swear you can practically hear geto’s words, echoing through your head.

(why do you think that is?)

gojo is still looking at you. expectantly, lips curled up into a lazy smile. he’s waiting, you know he is, and you also know he isn’t very good at that. you know a lot of things — what you don’t know is what to say. you don’t know if you can believe in whatever geto was insinuating, don’t know if you can grapple with your own longing to do so. 

(next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?)

geto doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know what your feelings towards gojo truly look like. doesn’t know that what’s on your mind when he’s around is always something horrifically embarrassing. something like, i want to know more about you, or maybe i wish i could tell you more about me. something awfully cheesy, like — i’m jealous of how bright you shine, but i can’t help but like you anyway. 

if i become your friend, would it be okay to say i understand your loneliness? that i notice it, even just by a fraction?

would that be okay with you?

(words that should be left unspoken.)

”… well, it’s not like you have to.” gojo exhales, again, the words a heavy weight seeping past his throat. his shoulders slump, as he turns forward, fingers trailing up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

all you can think is that he’s getting ready to leave. that nothing will change, at this rate, that spring will wash winter away. that geto should be more direct with his advice, and that if it’s not the music itself that gojo is interested in knowing more about, then surely —

” — i don’t listen to anything.”

gojo stills. the words have flown past your lips before you can reach out and grasp them, slicing through the open air.

he spins around, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose at the sudden motion, exposing his widened eyes. those white lashes, fluttering softly, like a pair of doves eager to get above ground. you grip onto the insides of your pockets, warm and cozy against your freezing hands — it grounds you, keeps you tethered down to earth, down to him. 

”music,” you continue, sputtering slightly, as if your lungs don’t quite know how to work under pressure. winter air seeps into your windpipe, cuts the skin there. ”i don’t listen to music.”

you lift your hands, fingers curling around the soft earmuffs wrapped around your neck, hesitantly meeting gojo’s gaze — an overlapping sequence, blanketing his view. then you’re gazing down. 

”it’s just… comforting,” you try to explain, speaking softly. ”to wear them. white noise.. tires me out, so…”

the sentence trails off, unfinished. you feel silly. silly for saying anything at all, for building it up so much. silly for being the way that you are.

but when you look up at gojo, he’s brightened like a star.

white teeth, pink gums, that breathtakingly boyish grin. his blue eyes gleam with colour, almost spilling over the corners, like watercolour paint on a too-small canvas. he tilts his head, looking at you carefully, as if truly seeing you for the first time; absently swaying side to side. 

if he had a tail, you’re sure it’d be wagging.  

”i see!”

a silent breath spills into the air. your lips part, but no sound comes out, only vapour; heart pumping blood through your writhing veins, warming you up from the inside, a co-conspirator to the heat blooming in your cheeks. gojo continues to speak.

”i guess that counts,” he nods, crossing his arms with a satisfied hum. ”alright. i’ll get you any snacks you want! you can be greedy, it’s okay.”

a murmur of thanks escapes you, although you’d like to tell him there’s no need. something tells you denying him this would be like taking another step backwards, in this budding connection between you.

(… if you can even call it that.)

geto and ieiri catch up to your unmoving figures, finally, and only then does gojo spin on his heel and pick up his previous pace. calling back to you over his shoulder, a smile you can’t see but still hear.

”just don’t give any of it to those two, yeah?”

”cheapskate,” ieiri calls back, lone cigarette hanging between her lips. geto lets out something like a chuckle, his shoulder brushing up against yours.

you watch gojo’s back as he moves forward. unbothered, untethered. you think of him a snowflake in the breeze.

spring is almost here, now. it’s a bittersweet feeling, to know your conversations during recess will surely dwindle out — but at least you’ll have had this. one normal conversation, the knowledge that he was curious about you, even if you may just be the classmate by the heater in his eyes.

you’re too cold to keep him warm all on your own, so there’s no helping it. you’re willing to accept that some stars only show from the surface during winter. 

you’re willing to accept this. it aches, a little, but you’ll be okay. 

”i’ll take it things went well, then?”

geto is wearing his signature smile, when you look up at him. an expression of carefully concealed composure, lips curled up, but a knowing look in his eyes — something that borders on teasing.

you give him a nod, a bow of your head, to silently convey your appreciation. chameleon or not, you don’t really mind his ways. it’s hard to fake the warmth in his voice, when he speaks.

”i’m glad.”

the two of you watch gojo’s back, like birds gazing out at a body of water. silence lingers.

”won’t that moron get cold?”

ieiri’s voice cuts through the mold of your mind, low and gravelly, right beside you. she’s pointing towards gojo — the flimsy jacket he’s wearing. 

you’re wondering the same thing.

geto casts her a glance over your head, before gazing down at you, seemingly noticing your curiosity. he lets out a low hum; reaching a hand out to brush away the snowflakes on his shoulders. 

”temperature,” he begins, slipping his hands into his pockets; that familiar coaching tone to his voice, purposefully slow. ”is just a measure of atoms in rapid motion.”

you tilt your head, in tandem with ieiri — looking to your classmate for further elaboration. he seems to enjoy your confusion, lips curling up just a bit. gojo calls out to you, in the distance, waving both his hands, and geto returns it with a wave of his own.

an amber eye flicks towards you, an explanation on his tongue. ”his infinity can regulate that motion.”

… another tilt of your head.

geto lets out an amused breath. it scatters out into the air, a cloud of smoke, almost a chuckle.

”basically…” he sighs. ”he does just fine, in the cold. don’t worry about it. he’ll keep himself warm.”

ieiri mutters something, beneath her breath, something like you could have just said no, but you don’t really hear it. you think your heart must have climbed up, somehow; got caught in your windpipe. 

ah.

gojo can keep himself warm.

the thought spins inside your mind, over and over, a realization that makes your inner palms feel clammy. stupid, silly, this pitter-patter of your heartbeat. but what else could it mean? if the cold doesn’t bother him, if he doesn’t run cold, then…

(he wouldn’t need it. he wouldn’t need it here, wouldn’t need it during recess, within the chilly walls of your classroom. he wouldn’t need it to stay warm.

gojo isn’t after your heater. if that’s true, then…)

…

you bury your nose in the soft wool of your scarf. breathing in the fading scent, vanilla and cinnamon, grounding you to earth, lingering in your nostrils. distracting you from the rush of warmth, that blooms in the frostbitten apples of your cheeks. 

as if sensing your thoughts, or maybe just noticing your embarrassed expression, geto laughs — soft and breathy, shoulders shaking to your left. you hear it, only nuzzling deeper into the comfort of your scarf. feeling your heartbeat spin out of orbit.

in the distance, gojo continues to wave, yelling out something unintelligible. you could mistake him for a star.

spring is almost here, now. in just a month or so, it’ll be at your doorstep — waltzing right in. 

(but you aren’t worried.)

[causenessus]

ran out of tag space BUT I AM NOT DONE

i'll actually try and limit myself because I have another chapter to read but omg again like wyr I don't know how to explain this in a way that doesn't sound weird and that makes sense to you 😭 but my trip to Canada was so life changing it was so comforting and so beautiful I have such fond memories or it it was my favorite place I ever went I felt so happy and cozy and that is exactly how I feel reading your works <3 like this is the highest compliment I can ever think to give!! like relating my favorite most happiest memory to your writing if that makes sense <3 I love love love baby's breath it's one of my favorite flowers and I just love you so much wyr everything you do is perfect I love how you write I love this concept I love you so so much!! <3 also I must know!! what is your favorite flower? <3

☆ chapter one - bud and sprout m.list

    snow slowly falls to the ground, leaving a light dusting across every sidewalk and mailbox. small fir trees find their way across the city, covered in large string lights and snow. your old white snow boots trudge across the street, two bouquets in each respective arm. one of them features poinsettias for the season, the other being a usual bouquet of roses and baby's breath. 

  while you'd never find yourself forcing a customer into another bouquet, you can't help but yearn for the daffodils and the snowdrops to have their moments. and the smell of jasmine flowers has always been what you've preferred over roses. especially as you carry them down the sidewalk, the sweet smell contaminating your nose and carrying through the wind as you enter the first shop. 

  stepping into your local antique shop, the first thing you smell is a candle that smells like it's been burning for eternity. mixed with the smell of books and a light layer of dust, you know you're at home. "hello... i have your poinsettia order, from calla lily," you look around, wondering where the owner could be today.

  "y/n! thank you for bringing it around, i'm in the process of unloading some books so if you could drop that off at the counter i would be indebted to you," she looks up from behind a few cabinets, a smile propping up on her face.

  setting it down beside the register, you look back at her, giving a soft goodbye. opening the front door, you step back into the cold, the snow falling back down onto you. looking down at your phone to check the time, you take a step forward, feeling something hard hit into your side and cheek. recoiling back, you expect something hard to hit into the back of your head, but all you feel is a soft hand grabbing at yours.

  looking up at the individual, his soft silhouette illuminates from the sun streaming through the clouds, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat. the stranger's hair spikes upwards, a concerned frown on his lips quickly morphing into a smile. “i’m so sorry, i’m so late for this meeting my boss is going to kill me,” he quickly pulls you up, accidentally bringing you far too close to his face.

  you stand there for a moment, staring into his eyes. swallowing the saliva in your throat, you shake your head, “it’s okay…”

  “and i destroyed your bouquet, i am so sorry,” the stranger grabs at his briefcase’s handle and stuffs it under his arm, picking up the squished bouquet from below the briefcase’s leathery texture.

  handing off the paper wrapped roses to you, he lifts his wrist up into view. pulling back his suit jacket just slightly, his eyes widen as pure shock overrides him. “how much is the bouquet? i’ll repay you,” the stranger starts to pull out his wallet, not even letting you reply as he starts sorting out a fifty or two.

  “i made this bouquet, i’ll just make a new one for my customer. you really don’t-” he doesn’t even give you a second to finish talking before he’s stuffing a twenty and a fifty into your hand.

  his hands are still so soft against yours, hands cupping around yours. “i’m so sorry again, i can not be even more late to this meeting,” the mysterious, and oddly endearing businessman grabs the briefcase out from under his arm, already hurrying down the sidewalk.

  laughing to yourself, you yell out to him, “if you ever have a bouquet you need, get it it at calla lily! think of it as the best apology you can make!”

  he turns back to look at you, still running rather recklessly. giving you a wave with his free hand, the man shouts back to you in a tone that could only be described as whimsy and excitement. “i might just take you up on that offer!” quickly turning back around, he turns a corner, ignoring the snow that kicks up with every step.

  shaking your head, you look down at your bouquet, finally taking in the damage. the roses are flattened and the baby’s breath has dwindled into a few petals and leaves. grabbing out your phone, you start walking down the sidewalk, messaging the cafe’s owner with a warning that the roses will be delivered later than expected. 

  snow falls onto your phone’s screen with every message, your hand swiping off the droplets of water every few seconds. looking up from your phone, you press the crosswalk button. the soft hue of the traffic lights shine through the falling snow. bright enough that anyone can see it, but just low enough that it isn’t blinding for anyone traveling through. 

  as the light changes, you walk through, thinking back to the mysterious man that you ran into. the way the light surrounded him making him look like he was some winter angel saving you from a worse fate. even the way his smile widened as soon as he realized you were okay made your stomach flutter with the feeling of butterflies. just something about him made him so memorable.

  and you can already picture yourself running into him again. maybe it would be at the cafe or you’d find yourself next to him on the sidewalk again. you know you could sit there for hours on end, wondering if anything could’ve come from your meeting, if it weren’t for yachi ending your fantasies with a wave.

  “i’m gonna go deliver these bouquets to some of the residential areas, can you stay here until i get back?” she calls out from the front door of your shop, leaning out with her jacket sprawled out over her shoulders, a sloppy scarf thrown over her shoulders. 

  giving her a thumbs up, you walk up to the shop, “yeah, i just need to deliver a bouquet for new grounds because this one was unfortunately destroyed. well, not totally unfortunately…”

  looking back at yachi, she raises an eyebrow at you. “okay you can’t just say that and not explain what the ‘not totally unfortunately’ means,” she leans up against the store’s counter.

  “well, i was looking at my phone when some guy runs into me,” you start explaining, setting down the destroyed bouquet, “and i thought i was gonna crack my skull open or something… until he caught me, like full on, caught me.”

  taking off your scarf, you hang it up on the coat rack, quickly setting your coat up with it too, “and he payed me for the bouquet, and i don’t know. he was just memorable in the best way possible. i don’t even know why.”

  “someone has a budding crush…”

  “sure, like i’ll ever see him again,” you shrug your shoulders while sitting down by the company’s computer. refreshing the page reveals a new order for a dozen tulips, ordered for an in-store pickup. 

taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @grassbutneo @asrichin

@boosyboo9206 @anqelkoz @rriwyu @ssabvln @thesleepingrose

@chososcamgirl @lale-txt

[crushmeeren]

PLSS SHOTO X FEM READER NSFW HEADCANONS

im so down bad for him

do not fear, my friend. I GOT YOU!! i am also down bad for shouto!!

̽ ⋆ ﹒♡﹒ nsfw alphabet (except its only certain letters because i couldn’t summon the strength to write them all) ̽ ⋆ ﹒♡﹒

master list link

ᝰ A ‣ ‣ AFTERCARE { ༝༝ what is shouto like after sex? ༝༝ }

Shouto, in my mind, is 100% a big fat fucking cuddle bug.

That man is unbothered. You could both be covered in sweat, skin sticking together like glue, and he wouldn’t care. He’ll wave off your concerns about cleaning the mess he’s made between your legs and trap you against his chest.

He even started grabbing a Gatorade before sex so he doesn’t have to leave you sprawled out in the bed afterwards.

He loves to be the big spoon. He’ll slip an arm around your waist, tug you to his chest, and nuzzle at the back of your neck until the warmth and comfort of it lulls you to sleep. Shouto’s sneaky hand will find its way to your tit, taking a handful and keeping it there as he drifts off with you.

If you get overheated during the summer, Shouto will sprinkle frost all over you, breathing out chilly air across your neck and chest, placing ice cold fingers to your forehead. If it’s winter, it’s the opposite. He pulls the covers over you both and turns the air beneath toasty.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ B ‣ ‣ BODY PART { ༝༝ shouto’s favorite ༝༝ }

I hate to be basic, but I think Shouto loves your titties.

They’re so squishy, so warm, and there’s the added benefit that he can shove his face between them whenever he pleases. He uses them as a pillow when he lays in between your legs, arms shoved underneath you. He gets so sleepy like this, and the secret weapon is to play with his hair and rub his upper back because he always dozes off. Shouto’s soft snores make you laugh.

He’s a sucker for how perfectly they sit on your chest. He squeezes them whenever the chance presents itself. You could be cooking, working out, watching a movie, etc., and Shouto’s just there. Grabbing your tits.

Not to mention the way they bounce when he fucks you.

I’m also possessed with the idea he’s super into the way your pretty fingers curl around his cock. He’ll even suck on your fingers if you let him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ C ‣ ‣ CUM { ༝༝ where shouto loves to cum ༝༝ }

Shouto loses his mind when he cums inside you.

It’s not limited to your pussy, not by a long shot. His heart pounds when you swallow his cock and the tight muscles of your throat toss him over the edge. He thinks it’s stupid hot when your rim stretches to fit him, pink and soft, on the verge of being split open. He cums so fast.

He isn’t fond of cumming on your face. He’ll cover your tits in the sticky mess any time any day, but there’s just something about marking your pretty face that sits wrong with him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ E ‣ ‣ EXPERIENCE { ༝༝ how much does shouto have? ༝༝ }

Listen, Shouto did not have the time to give two shits about sex when he was in school.

It didn’t get much better once he was out on his own, he got slammed with hero work instead of homework. He’s not a virgin. He’s had sex maybe a handful of times before he got into a relationship with you. He wasn’t the best in the beginning, unsure of what he liked and unsure on how to make you feel the best he could.

But he tried so hard and he was so sweet. He wasn’t embarrassed when you talked to him about it either, just listened and took your words to heart. A green flag if there ever was one.

Shouto let you guide him and you helped him discover what made his cheeks flush bright pink and stars burst behind his eyelids. Sex with Shouto is something that continues to get better and better as time goes on.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ F ‣ ‣ FAVORITE POSITION { ༝༝ shouto’s favorite ༝༝ }

Shouto’s favorite position has got to be any version of missionary where you’re spread out on your back and he’s able to watch your titties bounce. Or when you’re riding him and he’s able to watch your titties bounce.

Literally any position that lets him watch your titties bounce, if that hasn’t been made clear. He really likes to suck on your nipples, whether you’re on top or not.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ H ‣ ‣ HAIR { ༝༝ does shouto shave or care if you do? ༝༝ }

Shouto doesn’t shave, but he does trim. He keeps it close to the skin, not wanting the hair to grow out of control. He hates shaving with a razor, he tried once and the fear of nicking himself put him off it forever. He won’t even entertain the idea of waxing, too much pain, and for what? He’s happy with just trimming and so are you.

The coarse hair is split in color just like on his head, and he’s got a light happy trail stretching from his belly button to his pelvis. The hair is soft, and it makes him even hotter than he already is.

Shouto’s not one to care about whether or not you shave. If you want to be bald, he’s cool. If you want to let it grow, he’s cool. As long as he can get to your pussy, he’ll go with the flow.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ I ‣ ‣ INTIMACY { ༝༝ is shouto romantic? ༝༝ }

Shouto loves the closeness, the intimacy of sex. He’s never been socially palatable, awkward and a man of a few words. It’s gotten better as he’s grown older, but sex is special to him. It’s a way for him to show you he loves you, instead of trying to find what to say.

Sometimes, when you’re both home relaxing, Shouto will appear out of thin air, taking hold of your wrist and guide you to the bathroom. Your tub will already be filled with water and bubbles. He’ll help you get naked and into the warm water, pulling you down to recline on his chest.

Once he’s rubbed all the tension out of your shoulders, he’ll take you to bed and fuck you in that slow, deep rhythm that steals the breath from your lungs. He’ll keep his forehead pressed to yours, fingers playing with your clit until you’re impossibly tight around his cock.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ J ‣ ‣ JERKING OFF { ༝༝ does shouto jerk off? ༝༝ }

He does jerk off, but not often. If you’re busy or away for a few days, he enjoys spreading out in bed and stroking his cock. He’s got some filthy pictures of you saved that are his go to, maybe a video or two.

If he’s lucky, you’ll face time him and join in on the fun. Watching Shouto jerk himself off, his sweet moans and whimpers, you never last long. It’s okay, because he doesn’t either. He’ll watch you play with your clit, listen to you complain about missing his cock and he’ll go off like a shot.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ K ‣ ‣ KINKS { ༝༝ shouto’s kinks ༝༝ }

Shouto is the definition of someone with a praise kink. Praising you makes his dick hard, but getting praised by you? Now that’s a surefire way to make Shouto melt.

If you sit down on Shouto’s cock and say something along the lines of “You’re such a good boy for me Sho, always trying so hard to make me cum. You’re the best at it, I could cum on this perfect cock of yours all day long.” Shouto will let out the sweetest whines, cheeks flushing rosy pink as he pushes his hips up into you and cums.

He also has a hair pulling kink. Tug on his hair while he eats you out, let him tangle his fingers in yours and yank on it when he fucks you from behind or when you suck on his cock. He loves it all.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ L ‣ ‣ LOCATION { ༝༝ where shouto likes to fuck ༝༝ }

He’s not keen on having sex in a bunch of different places. Not risky ones, at the very least.

He wants to be comfortable in your home, in your bed. It’s safe and secluded from the world, and you’re able to do whatever you please in your bubble of privacy. He’s not opposed to sex in the shower or the living room, as long as it’s somewhere within your home he’s fine with it.

Has fucked you in his car before though, and is not entirely against the idea of doing it again. It would depend on the situation. He’s too tall and it’s quite uncomfortable in there, but it’s a nice change of pace.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ O ‣ ‣ ORAL { ༝༝ shouto’s thoughts on oral sex ༝༝ }

Shouto’s pussy eating skills have become insane over time.

He had to learn, because again, he didn’t have a lot of experience to work with when you first started dating. He’s smart, so he picked it up and ran with it.

He eats your pussy sweet and slow, takes his time to build up the rich heat coiling low in your pelvis. He’ll keep his mouth pressed to you, tongue swirling around your clit, and two fingers will push inside you just to curl up and pet your g-spot. He’s gotten good at pushing just the right buttons to unravel you on his tongue.

Shouto’s like most other men, he loves when you suck on his cock. It works well with his hair pulling kink. He can thread his fingers through your hair, yanking it tight to guide your head back and forth. His demeanor cracks every time you deep throat him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ Q ‣ ‣ QUICKIES { ༝༝ shouto and quickies ༝༝ }

He doesn’t mind quickies.

Sometimes he needs to be inside you and he’s only got ten minutes before he has to leave for work. Sometimes Shouto comes home to meet for your lunch break and you shove him onto the couch so you can ride him. It happens.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ S ‣ ‣ STAMINA { ༝༝ how long does shouto last? ༝༝ }

Shouto lasts for a bit above average in terms of time. He’s spent years building up his stamina, and even if he doesn’t last the longest, he for sure can last for several rounds.

He doesn’t need several rounds to be satisfied, he’s happy with one if it means you’re on cloud nine. But if you’re pent up, or you’re just really feeling it that day, he’ll fuck you into the mattress until you’re begging him for a break.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ T ‣ ‣ TEASE { ༝༝ does shouto tease you? ༝༝ }

Shouto’s an oblivious tease.

It’s in the way he moves, he’s so graceful, so pretty. It’s when he reaches up to grab something and his shirt rides up, happy trail and lean belly peaking out for you to stare at. When he comes up behind you while you’re cooking and slides his hands up under the front of your shirt, smoothing his palms over your belly. Speaking to you in a low tone that gives you goosebumps.

Shouto isn’t aware of it most of the time, but when he does feel like teasing you he says things like “You’re my pretty girl, but you need to say please if you want me to make you cum, okay?” Just to see the way your eyebrows pinch together and your lower lip push out, shoving at his chest and saying please in the most exaggerated tone you can muster.

[coichii]

LAST CHRISTMAS ✭

—(🎧)—> ever since last year, you’ve dreaded the holiday season. the feeling always brought you back to when he broke your heart. but can this relationship with chan fix that idea?

pairing - bf!chan x fem!reader

genre - est. relationship, fluff & comfort

word count - 1.8k

warnings - nothing I can think of…!

series note : hello !! welcome to part one of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “last christmas” by Wham!. enjoy !!

This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special

You were getting sick of the Christmas carols and songs already.

The holiday times haven't been very…cheery recently. Last year, you had a not so positive break up with your ex, and as much as you hate to admit it, it tainted the holiday season for you.

It was more than just ending things, it was messy and came with lots of heated and disgusting words directed towards you. The moment he walked out without ever looking back is the moment the chilly wind and gingerbread smell was ruined, tainted with the feeling of abandonment he had given you, and you weren’t sure if that would ever be fixed.

You started dating your best friend, Christopher, not too long after that, falling in love with the way he comforted and cared for you afterwards, looking at him with a new profound love. He fixed the deep cracks in your heart, but fixing the deep hatred for Christmas? You weren’t sure if even he could do that.

◂—♥︎—▸

“Damn I hate the cold.” You shivered, looking back at your boyfriend who was stifling back a giggle. “My nose burns.”

The couch is drowned in fuzzy blankets, but it’s not working. Home alone plays on the screen infront of you, but you’re not paying to much attention. His dorm room even smells of evergreen and peppermint, totally “winterified” to his liking. It has you feeling like the grinch.

“I guess I just have to hold you to make you warm, huh?” He winks, opening his arms and laughing at your playful eye roll. Nevertheless, you find yourself in his arms in less than two seconds, cozying up in his strong arms and warm sweater. “Better, baby?”

“Very much so.” You exhale, nuzzling up into his neck like a cat does its owner. He knows you hate this time, and he knows why. He remembers the night you came to his apartment, tears staining your beautiful face.

He stayed with you all night that day, keeping you from falling down the spiral that could have been a very nasty panic attack, but he’s comforting like that, and you love every moment of it.

“You know I hate this time, so thank you for being with me during it. Im sorry if I’m ruining the time for you.” You whispered, and he can hear the quiver in your voice and see the unshed tears in your eyes when you do.

“Don’t apologize, y/n, you know I don’t mind. Just want to make my baby feel better, hmm?” He consoled, rubbing your back and looking and you with fond eyes. You wanted to belive him, you really did; but it’s hard to when you’ve been told you’re a burden by some of the closest people in your life.

He can tell you’re not buying it, opting to just rub the small of your back in a silent consolement. He wants to find a way to make you feel better, a way to put a new life into Christmas for you, but he’s struggling.

That’s until he thinks of the perfect thing.

“Baby? Are you free Friday?” He asks, looking at you as confusion takes over your features. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m going to take you out for a date.” He responds, snaking his arm around your waist. You frown at this, but you feel guilty. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He whispers, eyes burrowing into yours. “Please trust me.” And you believe him. You believe every word.

◂—♥︎—▸

You have only yourself to blame when you find your self shivering in the passenger seat of Chris’s car, but you’re not really complaining.

You guys stopped for some hot cocoa on your way there, so it was helping you warm up as guys drove to a more rural part of the city.

Where were you guys going? You had no idea; he wouldn’t tell you. It had your heart beating with excitement and anticipation, but also nerves. You were sure you would love anything he could do for you, but the feeling was still there.

“We’re here, baby.” He says, grabbing your hand in yours. You look outside the window, surprised when you’re met with an abundance of people, but a practically empty field. “Uhm..where are we, channie?

“Cmon, you’ll see in a second.” He ushers, getting out of the car just to walk to your side and open the door for you, being ever the loving gentleman. You can see the nervousness stirring in his eyes as he helps you out, worrying if his plan will work the way he wants it to. But still, he was to move on.

“Okay, I want you to just trust me and close your eyes okay? I won’t let you trip.” He smiles in satisfaction as you do as asked, grabbing ahold of your hand as he slowly and carefully guides you along the rough, rocky path.

It’s a long, unsteady walk, but you can hear the sounds of crowds getting louder as he walks you to who knows where. “Oohs” and “Ahs” radiate through your senses as he suddenly comes to a stop, letting go of your hands and placing them infront of your eyes instead.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, heart racing with anticipation. Your heart mirrors his, the cold normally bothers you, but with him standing right near you, it’s not as chilly as it normally would be. “Yup! I’m ready.” And he slowly lifts his hands as you open your eyes.

Your eyes are immediately met with bright lights, different colors reflecting their illumination across the pond they were sat next too.

The lights spelled out different words and pictures, some even being animated into various silly motion pictures.

To say you were stunned would be an understatement, it was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. As your mind processes the view infront of you, you slowly start to process what his plan must’ve been. Then it clicks.

He took you here, a place he was sure you’d love to give you a new perspective. He wanted to get rid of the sorrow and grey cloud that hung over this season and fill it with the beauty and cheer he knew you once had. Man, did his plan work.

You can tell it did when the lights start to get wavy and blurry, eyes filling to the brim with tears as one tips over the eyelid, coating your cheeks in the salty moisture.

Your silence had been worrying him the entire time, but he knowingly relaxes when he sees your reaction, engulfing you in a tight, comforting hug.

He holds you as you crave his warmth, rocking you slowly back and forth as a say to console you. He feels the wandering stares of others as they walk by, but he doesn’t care. You’re the only person he cares about in this moment.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You finally stutter out, burying your face into the crook of his neck where his warm, fuzzy scarf lays, giving you warmth on where the brisk, cool breeze hits your face.

“You don’t have to say anything to me. Just let me show you around, okay? It’s the least I can do for you.” You hear the sincerity in his tone as he speaks to you, so your not surprised when you find your self grasping his hand and he walks with you slowly.

Step after step after step shows a new inch of the land you haven’t seen before, childishly pointing out every new light fixture you see, looking up at Chris with the stars in your eyes as he just smiles at you.

The amount of photos he took is ridiculous in your words, but he knows you’ll never understand how absolutely breathtaking you always look to him.

The lights reflecting onto your perfect hair and glowy skin, the sparkling lights only brightening the ones in your eyes, the way you look with such excitement and purity every time you find a new light fixture? It has him utterly speechless to where he’s surprised with himself.

All he can do is grab onto your hand as you guide him through the crowds, running around like a little kid on a sugar high. Funny how the tables turned; first it was him cowardly leading you, now it’s him being dragged along and begged to stay for a little longer by you.

It has his heart filled with such joy, but your heart? Oh it’s expended tenfold.

The fact he would take time out of his busy schedule, take you out during a season you’re not that happy during, and show you to the most beautiful place you had ever seen before had you swooning.

The thought of your ex never popped in your mind not once, pushed out by the time you spent here with chris. It might be the best you’ve felt in a while, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not ever.

◂—♥︎—▸

“That was seriously the best time of my life, baby. Thank you so much. I seriously can’t believe you did that for me even after I’ve been a literal grinch recently. It means the world to me.” You confess, snuggling further into the gingerbread decorated blanket that was splayed across his torso.

He chuckles at your grinch comment, cute dimples poking out for just a second. “I’m telling you, baby. You better stop apologizing to me or I’m going to turn into the grinch.” You chuckle, eyes lighting back up again.

“Don’t you worry about that. I know it’s a hard time for you, so I just wanted to give you a new perspective. Don’t ever apologize for feeling how you feel and expressing those feelings. I love you the way you are, grinch or not.”

“Well thanks to you, there wont be a grinch me coming out ever again. I love you, Chris.” And you’re kissing.

Slow and sweet, taking in all the actions of this week to relish in each other. It’s been a whirlwind, but with him by your side, warming you up during it, you’re sure you’ll be okay.

Everything will be okay.

back to masterlist

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[We went on shopping (it didn’t go well)] - TF141*F!Reader

not a chapter actually just a rambling, it's kinda messy and not my style imo, pls feel free to skip this etc. might rewrite this shit when I have time since I’m busy with my job these days and I just accidentally sliced my thumb open making it difficult to type, hence not much to provide sorry :( and the weird stranger incident in the latter part did happen irl damn it’s creepy af, but I was the one telling them to fuck off tho (they harassing my cute friend RAGE)

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After your car graduates from its car life in about a week, congratulations, the poor shelf accompanies you since your college life is finally undone, fragments spreading across the floor making you shout Mama and mourn for its graduation.

You don’t have a car right now, so when Gaz offers to drive you to buy a new shelf, you agree to his suggestion without a second thought. Yet when the day comes and you open the car door, only to be greeted by the wide smile of Soap and Gaz, you almost slam the door close in reflex.

“Okay, but why do all of you come together? this isn’t an elementary school field trip!” You gawk at them when you squeeze in the car.

“Sounds fun, how can ye not tell us?” 

“Gaz I thought you could seal your lips!”

“Sorry love, Ghost exchanged it with some goodies.”

Oh yeah, Ghost is sitting in the driver’s seat.

Wait, he’s sitting in the driver's seat?

“Goddamnit—“ Your scream dies out on your tongue when said man puts his foot down. 

Ghost does a good job at providing you the same experience as riding a rollercoaster, glad that you didn’t throw up in the car and arrived at the warehouse without dying. If he's your Uber driver, you will give him five stars and block the hell out of him. 

You hop out of the car and walk to the door. As the automatic door parts after sensing your presence, you feel much better when the cold air of the store. Nice a.c. is one of the important features of a nice store, and you already built a fondness for the warehouse with how refreshing the chilly air is inside.

The first area welcoming you is food. Not bad, 6 out of 10 if it needs to be precise. Gaz pushes the cart and follows you as you saunter to the aisle with cereals.

“Oh, they have my favorite brand.” You murmur to him as your eyes travel across the price tag.

Wait, you must still be dizzy because no way it’s 30% cheaper than the same one you just bought from the supermarket.

“Kyle, it says it’s 3 pounds, right?!” pointing at the tag, your voice raises a whole eight-tone with excitement.

“Yes?”

“Good.”

5 boxes of cereal are added to the cart. 

Actually, 9.9 out of 10 for this place, you fix the evaluation as you watch Gaz putting some of those ten bags of chocolate Ghost and Soap dump into the cart back on the shelf, and as a little revenge to Gaz for letting the other two men join the trip without you knowing, you choose to turn a blind eye when you spot Ghost sneaking all of them back in the cart.

Not forgetting the primary goal for today, you go straight to the furniture area after letting Soap throw five packs of gummy bears in the cart and convincing Ghost not to get a cup of tea from the random tea shop. You’ll make a much better one for him when you get home — you coo when he stares at you with unhappy eyes not covered by the mask, glad that he seems to accept the idea, so he huffs and lets you drag him and Soap out of the food area.

“You should buy this.” 

“Ghost I don’t need a green shelf in my shop thank you.”

“Then ye should buy this bonnie!”

“That’s not even a goddamn shelf, Soap.”

“How about this?” 

Your eyes brighten up when Gaz shows you a wooden shelf, it’s stripped-back, with not many decorations, but it surely will fit wonderfully into your store with its aesthetic vibes and high functionality, thus you pick up your phone to type down the product number immediately.

“Oh my, Kyle, you’re the best.”

and you’re too busy typing the numbers down that you don’t notice him shooting the others a taunt of victory.

The last area before the cashier’s counter sets a bookshop. You don’t plan on buying books, but you indeed need to go to the bathroom, so you dismiss yourself and tell them to look around before you’re done.

Why are the bathrooms always hidden in a bloody long hallway? What if someone can’t hold back during their way? Your footsteps echo through the corridor as your mind starts hitting you with a fresh and unnecessary question, glad that you aren’t that urgent though, so you’re able to get to the destination without wetting your pants.

Washing your hands, you step back to the hallway again, but you yelp in surprise when you bump into someone.

“Sorry!” You nod at the man and start heading back to the bookstore.

but it’s weird, the man you just bump into walks so close to you, that you suddenly realize he’s just a step behind you.

Hey, don’t panic, might just coincidence, you try to tell yourself as you make another step.

“Hey, lovely.” Okay, it’s not a coincidence, fucking hell. You curse when his hand touches your shoulder and stops you.

“Sorry for bumping into you, Sir. Anything that I can help?”

“No, I’m waiting for you to separate from the blokes for a while can’t ask for your phone number when they surround you like dogs.”

“I don’t give strangers my number, sorry.” You try to leave, but the man’s hand grabs your shoulder forcefully preventing you from moving.

“Hey, give us a chance yeah? I’m sure we will have some nice time together.”

“I don’t fucking know you!”

Prying off his hand, you turn and start walking fast, almost running when you hear the stranger’s footsteps coming towards you.

Fuck fuck fuck, you haven’t run with such desperation in years, last time must be high school.

“Who the fok are ye arsehole?��

The tears prickling in your eyes when you hear Soap’s voice ringing in your ears before you feel a pair of warm hands drag you behind him.

“Ghost and Soap will deal with him, let’s go.”

Adrenaline pumping through your body finally subsides when Soap and Ghost reappear from the hallway, you don’t want to know what happened to the stranger, maybe hope they’re still alive and in one piece so you won’t involve yourself in another chaos, 

“I think it’s time to go home, Kyle. Is it okay?”

“Of course, wanna grab some food before we leave?”

“I guess Ghost already bought sufficient chocolate for us.”

A burst of laughter catches your attention whilst Gaz looking at the cart with bags of chocolate stuffing under your cereals with disbelief, and a smile crawls back to your lips as you look at Ghost slamming his forehead against a lower door frame and Soap laughing over him.

They aren’t that bad, maybe, or they reserve the remnants of tenderness for you, you’re not sure whether is correct, but at least they have your back when you need them, and that’s enough for you to stop exploring the answer for now.

“Oh.” A book gets knocked off when you shift to stand up. Turning around to pick it up, you have a good look at the shelf behind your seat.

Your eyes dart from ‘Today’s recommendation’ to the book within your grasp.

‘Surrounded by idiots — by Thomas.’

You will rate this recommendation 10 out of 10 for sure.

After insisting on paying yourself and shooing the men off, you take out your card and place it on the scanner.

‘Insufficient balance :( please try again’

You frown when the machine shoves you a nuh-uh, and you open the bank app to check your balance.

So you overspent 10 pounds huh? What a shame to your title for being a successfully financially broken adult. Which link loses and makes you make a wrong shopping decision? 

you scan the list of items with sharp vision until you land your eyes on a product.

Surrounded by idiots - £ 10.61

Ah.

a/n: thx for reading :D sorry it's messy and unlike my previous writings :( hope I can have time to write again btw Price went on business trip so he's missing everything

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143 @goodbyegh0st @reaperxxxxzz @kaoyamamegami @imyprice @cod-z @poppingaround @live-for-fluff @masterstr0ke @mall0ww @ghostysloot @hxnneydew @cutiecusp @beigechristmastree @rejectedbytheempty @lupikekee @hotvinimon @whitetiger846

[yeetmyboi]

Surviving the Holidays

a/n : MDNI. festive lights banner by @/strangergraphics. MDNI and support banners by @/cafekitsune. simonxreader, relationship est. reader is said to be female and bit of a bigger gal. just some fluff for this holiday season. this is for my fellow retail workers who are just trying to get through this festive hellscape and make it out to the other side.

— — —

You stumble home. Feet and back aching after yet another long shift. All these doubles might kill you. Between the holidays and everyone calling in sick, you’ve been running yourself ragged. It makes you bet on which one might get you first, work or the nasty flu that’s going around. At least you’ve managed to miss any icy patches climbing up the apartment’s steps tonight. Take the wins where you can get ‘em.

Sliding the key into the lock, you hurry and slip inside before the cold can sneak in. A shiver rattles your bones as you shrug off your jacket. One by one your winter layers fall away—hat, scarf, gloves, boots—all returning to their designated homes till they’re needed again. You shed your winter gear like a snake sheds its skin, only you don’t have a heat lamp to sun under after.

Despite the deep chill that still resides in your bones, the warmth you feel from knowing you’re not alone is enough to thaw you out.

Simon’s home.

Muffled noises come from the tv, filling the otherwise silent flat. The smell of something cooking hits your nose, making your tummy grumble. All signs that you’re not alone. It’s enough to bring a tired smile to your face.

Your socked feet shuffle as you make your way to the living room. The sight before you fills you with a warmth that can only come from the word ‘home’.

Simon sits there on the couch, lounging on his back, reading a book that looks as worn down as you feel. He glances over his readers as he greets you, “Welcome home, lovie.” 

Like a weary soldier returning home, you make your way over to him without a word. Swinging your leg over his hips, you straddle him and lean forward, crawling up under his arms. Usually you’re conscious of how much you put your weight on him, but that seems to have floated out of your head the moment you saw him. All you can think about is burying your face into his soft pecs.

So you do. Nuzzling into the softness much like a cat, rubbing its cheek against its favorite person—purring and eager for more contact.

His chest bounces gently as he laughs at you, amusement and fondness clear in the teasing tone he takes. “Missed me that much, did ‘cha?”

You still don’t answer. Just a pleased hum from your throat as you continue to rub against his chest. Absorbing his presence and scent, letting it ebb away the stress that’s been heavy on your shoulders all day.

Simon slowly wraps his arms around you, already knowing what you need. He squeezes you, nice and firm, letting the pressure ground you. Not letting go until you start to squirm. Another chuckle and his arms slowly fall away, a hand coming to mindlessly run up and down your back.

“Made a stew tonight. Somethin’ to warm ye up,” he states.

You acknowledge his comment with a content sigh, nodding with your head still firmly on his chest. A small voice in the back of your head tells you that this is probably his way of politely asking you to get off.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to crush you. I just really needed…that.” You mumble, already pulling away.

“‘M not broken, love. In fact, ye make a lovely blanket.” He says as he wraps his arms around you once more, pulling you back and squeezing tightly. “Might ‘ave to keep ya here. Supposed’a be chilly t’noght.”

“Nooo, Si!” You squeal with surprised delight, pushing against his hold with both hands.

“Sorry, lovie. Looks like you’re not goin’ anywhere.” He gleams with delight at your pretend struggle. “Ye wouldn’t let me freeze, would ya?”

A thought pops into your head, and without much consideration for the consequences, you act on it. Your teeth teasingly nip at his soft pec, hitting his nipple with precision.

“Oi!” He jolts at the contact, sending the abandoned book tumbling to the floor. “Blankets don’ bite!” The bark in his voice is a playful one, like yips from an older dog trying to match a pup’s energy.

You dissolve into giggles, smothering them in his chest. Simon squeezes and gives you a shake. He huffs, but the warmth in his chuckle betrays him. “Cheeky lil’ thing,” he mutters, his hand resuming its slow rub up and down your back.

You sigh into him, letting his touch melt the day away entirely. The smell of warm meal wafts through the flat, promising warmth and comfort, but for now, Simon’s arms are enough. This is enough.

This is home.

— — —

me while writing this :

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡cat's first snow ❄️

you've ordered: cookies and cream ice cream! enjoy!

"twenty-four to twenty-five, bae. just stay with me." (partly inspired by "24 to 25" by stray kids)

animagus! regulus black x reader | word count: 1,492 words

summary: it snows at hogwarts! but, guess who hates the cold? ❄️ (silly little drabble)

warnings: a bit of cursing (lighthearted)! not really warnings, but: reader's favorite season is winter, regulus takes the animagus form of a cat.

note: i swear, i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this 🤭 yes, i'm reusing marauders/ skittles characters. again, i'm still getting caught up on marauders/ harry potter stuff in general. this fic is based on this post i made.

the courtyard grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were blanketed in a pillowy white layer of snow. excitement emanated through the corridors and hallways of the school as students and faculty alike talked of taking pleasure in the wondrous winter display. basically, everyone was ready for classes to end so they could go out and play in the snow.

well...not everyone.

you see, your boyfriend, regulus black: he hated the cold. hated with a capital H. ever since he was a child, the slytherin was never fond of the chilly weather of fall and winter, always wrapped to the nines in layers of sweaters and jackets. not even a single wisp of cold air could touch him without him kicking up a fuss.

obviously, this was a problem since you lived for the cold weather of winter. getting to splurge on cute, fluffy sweaters, tins of flavored hot chocolate mix, and jars of various teas made your heart pound with joy. and of course, playing in the snow was just as fun.

"boys versus girls snowball fight in ten minutes!" evan yelled, throwing his scarf around his neck as he, barty, and james made a mad dash down the hallway.

"losers have to shove snow down their shirts!" sirus chimed in, he and remus following after the others.

"they're so immature." pandora grumbled, rolling her eyes as she watched her brother run down the hallway like an idiot.

"i know right....but, we're winning the fight, right?" marlene asked, nudging dorcas in her side.

"oh definitely." dorcas responded, lily giving them a thumbs up before looking around.

"have any of you seen y/n? i could've sworn they were just with us." lily asked, the girls looking around in confusion.

just where were you?

"reg, please? it's not even that bad, i swear!" oh, there you were, currently trying to persuade regulus to come outside with you guys.

you knew it was a futile effort. he'd never agree.

"i don't care, i said i'm not coming." the stubborn slytherin refused, tucking himself deeper into the blankets he had piled around him.

"you're being ridiculous."

"and what's so ridiculous about not wanting to freeze to death?" he quipped in a rather dramatic tone that made you bite back a laugh.

"fine, i'll just go out myself. and have fun with the others..." you said, glancing over at regulus to see if your words had affected him.

"alright, have fun."

you frowned, getting up and buttoning up your jacket. "but even though i'll be with them, i'll still be a little...lonely. if only my boyfriend would come and keep me company...." nothing.

"y/n, i know what you're doing." he said, not even looking up from his book.

"fuck you, regulus black." you groaned.

"maybe after your snow day." he smiled to himself, knowing he got under your skin as he heard the door slam shut.

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"look at him, all warm and cozy, while we're all freezing our asses off." evan huffed. you were all peering in through the window of the common room, watching a familiar black cat enjoying the comfort of the fireplace.

"you thinking what i'm thinking?" barty whispered to you, a sly grin on his pierced lips.

"absolutely." you nodded, giving him the same grin as the two of you slipped away from the group. you waited in the corridor, peeking through one of the windows.

barty quietly stepped into the room, the black cat now stretching out on the couch. the crouch boy carefully tiptoed over to the couch, leaning over it and giving regulus a smile. "hey reg...don't hate me too much after this."

that cat equivalent of a scream was heard as barty swiftly scooped up the poor feline, shoving him into his coat. you had to try your best not to burst into a fit of laughter, your hand slapped over your mouth and body shaking. you watched as regulus hissed and reached out with clawed paws, trying to scratch at barty, who was scrambling out the door and over to you.

"damn, he put up a fight." barty huffed, handing you the obviously unhappy cat.

"thanks, crouchy!" you smiled, now shoving regulus into your coat. he let out a meow of protest as you ran down the hall and out the large double doors.

you could feel regulus jerk in your arms as the cold air washed over his fur. you pulled him out of your coat, playfully swinging him in your arms. then he saw it: the pile of snow you were about to fling him into.

"3....2.....1!" you yelled, tossing him into the pillowy white snow. a startled "mrow!" left the black cat's throat as he landed into it with a soft thud. he poked his head out, the snow on his head practically melting with how seething he was.

"oh come on, reg. have some fun! look-? wait, where's sirus?" your question was answered as you saw padfoot running over to the group and slamming into the pile of snow.

laughter filled the air as padfoot popped his head out and shook out his snow covered fur that resulted in regulus getting covered in snow once again. padfoot playfully nudged the angry cat, licking over his fur. you knelt down and gently scooped regulus back up into your coat, planting a soft kiss onto his head, right between his ears. the look on his face said "i hate you" but in a "you're lucky i love you" way.

after hours of snowball fights, snow angels, and building snowmen, the sun was finally beginning to set on your wintertime activities. you all made your way back inside, regulus snuggly tucked into your coat and poking his head through your scarf. when you two arrived at his dorm, he hopped out of your arms and scurried into his closet. a few moments later, regulus walked out, wrapped in a blanket and shivering rather dramatically.

"don't ever take me out in the cold again." he said through chittering teeth.

"but, wasn't that fun? at least you were warmer in your cat form, no?" you teased, walking over to him and cupping his face in your hands.

"cold!" he yelped, jumping back from the frosty touch of your fingers. a smirk formed on your face as you looked at your hands, then back at your boyfriend.

"y/n, don't-" you stepped closer to him, his eyes darting around the room.

"y/n- AH!" you immediately charged at him, chasing him around the room as he desperately tried to avoid your freezing cold hands.

"get over here!" you giggled, cornering him against his bed. you moved to straddle him, your thighs on either side of his waist.

"wait, y/n, please!" the poor boy pleaded, trying not to laugh at the determined look in your eyes.

"i can't hear you!" you teased, quickly slipping your hands underneath the blanket and pressing them to his sides.

"GAH!" the yelp that left his throat had you laughing till your throat was sore, regulus grabbing your wrists to get you off of him.

"ah! please, have mercy!" regulus mumbled weakly, a shiver running through his whole body as you leaned closer to him, that ridiculous smirk still on your face.

"want me to help you warm up?" you whispered, your warm breath wafting over his lips that twitched in response.

"i guess..." regulus mumbled, trying to fight the smile forming on his lips.

you smiled at his attempt to seem upset, leaning over and softly kissing his pouty lips. an audible "mmm" rumbled through his chest as he slowly forgot about the icy touch of your hands that were creeping up his bare sides and focused on the warmth emanating from your body and the kiss.

as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, you felt regulus sneak his hands underneath your shirt, pressing his semi-cold hands to your skin. you yelped softly into the kiss, pulling away to scold him.

"mhm, how do you like them apples?" the dark haired male quipped, earning himself a playful pinching of his sides.

"how about we both get changed into more comfortable, warmer clothes and we can cuddle up together in the common room, hm? i'll even make you that tea you like so much." regulus couldn't pass up that offer.

"i'll think about it." that ultimately meant yes, your lips now pressing to his nose before letting him go.

the rest of the night was spent in the common room, you and the others chatting the night away and laughing over steaming mugs of hot chocolate and freshly brewed tea. regulus was practically glued to your hip, curled up under a blanket with you and letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

even though he didn't like the cold, regulus always felt all warm and fuzzy inside seeing just how happy you were whenever winter rolled around. ❄️

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Ummm..how about something fluffy with the word socks. ❤️

Thanks for the cute prompt 🩶

**********

Tommy, unsurprisingly, wasn’t exactly the most cooperative patient. He hated having to rely on others to take care of him. Especially Evan. Their relationship was still fairly new—3 months—and he didn’t fair for him to have to play nursemaid to Tommy.

But then Tommy fell out of—well, blown out of by an exploding stove —a 1st floor window and sustained a nasty concussion and a body full of bruises. The doctors had insisted on keeping him in hospital (jail) for 2 or 3 days. He’d managed to barter for time off his sentence if he promised to take at least 2 weeks off work and they agreed to keep him in for only one night.

After Evan had been convinced that Tommy wasn’t actually going to die—at least not tonight—and he could go home, he reluctantly—after begrudgingly peeling himself from Tommys body—left.

Tommy settled into his bed and after not finding anything interesting to watch on the TV hanging from corner, he ended up mindlessly watching a shopping channel. Just as he was beginning to believe that actually he did need a set of 15 cooking pans despite barely being able to make anything more complicated than a chilli, the door to his hospital room opened.

“Evan.” He whined. “I told you to go home.”

“I know, I know, and I will. I just wanted to go by your place first and pick you up a few things.” He said lifting the backpack from his shoulder and placing it on the bed

“You didn’t need to do that, babe.”

“I know. But I know how much you hate being in hospital so I thought I’d bring you some home comforts.” He unzipped the bag and began pulling things out before Tommy had the chance to argue.

“I got the basics—toothbrush, deodorant, fresh underwear, and a change of clothes for when they discharge you tomorrow. I gotcha a hoodie in case you get cold-“ Tommy couldn’t fail to notice it was one of Evan’s ones—the light blue one he’d worn when Maddie and Howie got married. He chose to not mention it—he knew he’d fall asleep in his hospital bed with his face snuggled into it. “The book you’re in the middle of reading and ooh-“ He looked around to make sure nobody nurses were around “-I’ve hidden a bag of those chocolate covered raisins you like at the bottom of the bag.”

Tommy was a little annoyed that Evan had gone out of his way to do this, but he couldn’t deny the adoring look on Evan’s face when he was trying to take care of him. Tommy could argue the point and tell it wasn’t necessary, but Evan seemed so genuinely happy to share this small act of kindness, he couldn’t take that away from him.

“Thank you, babe. I appreciate it.” He reached into the bag to snag the raisins and instead handled something soft. He pulled out a pair of thick black fluffy socks.

“Oh.” Evan said nervously. “I forgot I’d put them in there.”

“Socks?”

“Th-they’re my, uh.. magic socks.” He replied; a flush of embarrassment flushed across his cheeks. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Magic socks?”

“Y-yeah. Well, I mean.. that’s what Maddie used to call them when I-i was a kid. Whenever I was sick or hurt—which, you know, was a lot—she’d always patch me up and-and if I was upset she’d give me a pair of her fluffy socks to wear; said they were magic socks designed to make me feel better. Obviously, she was just trying to make me feel better and it was just the placebo effect, but whenever I wore them I did feel a little better. So I brought you mine to-“

“..to make me feel better.” Tommy finished. Tommy felt the fondness for his boyfriend thick in his throat. Nobody had ever cared enough about him to do something so little, yet so full of care. He’d never met anybody who so consistently showed him such affection. His insides—doing as they had continually done over the last 3 months—turned to goo at Evan’s loving gesture.

“I love you, Evan.”

They hadn’t said it yet. Tommy was sure he’d felt it within the first month but didn’t want to pressure Evan while he was the one setting the pace. But he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He needed Evan to know how much this gesture meant to him.

“It’s okay if you don’t-“

Evan stepped closer to the hospital bed and took Tommy’s face gently in his hands and kissed him. Just a few chaste kisses, but Tommy felt every tiniest bit of affection Evan had for him.

“I love you too..” he smiled softly, running a delicate hand through Tommys hair.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah.” Evan nodded delivering another kiss.

“Good.” Tommy decided. “Will you do one thing for me?”

“Anything, Tommy.” He smiled.

“Go home!”

[ddejavvu]

i love your fics <3 and i love the idea of hotch with a reader who loves to keep her appearance up, like does cute makeup every morning, always has her nails painted, and has her hair always done. Aaron adores her all dressed up. Specifically: Reader is almost done getting ready and is just waiting for her nails to dry and hotch is getting hot and impatient, so reader can’t touch during the fun or her nails will be ruined.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Perhaps it was cruel of you to only wear your slip to paint your nails. In fact, you should have gotten dressed before doing it, so that putting on your outfit for the day won't smudge your freshly done manicure. But there's no going back now, and Aaron is uncharacteristically lingering as he ties his tie.

"This is usually your job," He muses, watching you with a trained eye as you blow carefully on your ring finger, newly adorned with a gemstone, "I can't believe you were willing to sacrifice getting your hands all over me for a new set of nails."

"Rude," You accuse, but he's right, "I don't tie your tie just to get my hands all over you."

"Right," He drawls, "That's why you always run your hands down my chest afterwards."

"To smooth down your suit!" Nine out of your ten nails are done now, and Aaron dips down to kiss your cheek while you concentrate on your pinky.

"Mm-hm," He chuckles, the sound warm and soothing where it falls close to your ear, "Have a good day, honey."

"You too," You grin up at Aaron, your lashes fluttering over sleepy eyes, "Say hi to Garcia for me."

"I will." He vows, but he doesn't move away, and something more than fondness is twinkling in his eyes.

You realize a few seconds late that from where he's standing, he's got a perfect view down the front of your slip, and your nipples are perked against the silky fabric in the chilly morning air. There's goosebumps on your arm as he nudges his nose against your jaw, but they're not from the cold. When he presses a second kiss lower, more sensual, to the hinge of your jaw you lean away, mourning the loss of his touch before he's even broken away.

"Aaron, I can't," You plead, "My nails are still wet."

"That's alright," He hums, smoothing a hand down your back and slipping it beneath the curve of your ass on the bed. He uses his chest to push you down onto the mattress, and it's by sheer luck that you manage to get the nail polish bottle onto the nightstand without spilling it everywhere. Your hands are left to hover uselessly in the air beside Aaron's hips as he shifts on top of you, "Just relax, and let your pretty nails dry, honey. Hands off, let me do all the work."

[hollythius]

IT’S A SYMBOL OF OUR FRIENDSHIP! | secret relationship headcannons

featuring | alhaitam, kaveh, tighnari, childe

prompt | as secret lovers, your favorite pastime is buying incognito matching items for you and your partner. but after so many grandiose, lovingly picked items start to alert your friends— well, what do you say?

tldr | i love secret relationship tropes 🫶 especially when it’s by choice and not necessity. reader is gn, i tried to be funny (it didn’t work), help i cant write any of these characters, uhh enjoy!! reblogs help btw! this got way off topic, uhhhh i’m having fun with these hehe

ALHAITAM — matching rings

the great sage was rarely fond of people, and even rarer was when he purposefully went out of his way to do something for another person. thus, after you had gotten over the initial shock of his confession— wham! he had pulled you aside to hand you a box that held matching rings. you almost fainted, the insanity of your precious haitham not understanding the implications of such jewelry threw you for a loop. however, you accepted it as a sort of promise ring, the silver band wrapped with green, vine-like markings. kaveh was the first to notice. “what’s that you’ve got there?” he smirked. his pointer finger directed at alhaitam’s middle finger where the ring rested. “oh, and what’s this? y/n has one too? oh my!” and alhaitam, sweet, red faced alhaitam, simply said, “it’s a gesture of our friendship!” you shook your head, smiling. kaveh laughed. you knew he was starting to suspect you anyway.

KAVEH — matching earrings

having your boyfriend’s roommate intrude on the two of you was rare, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. you were beginning to think it was on purpose— alhaitam was smart, and it wouldn’t take a genius to realize your relationship. (especially with how affectionate kaveh was sometimes) “y/n, help me put them in,” kaveh whines. “hold on, kaveh. here,” you finished putting your own earrings in, before coming over to kaveh. you press a kiss to his temple, which leads to him kissing your wrist— soon the earrings are left forgotten on the vanity and your collective priority is to kiss each other to death. these ministrations hold your attention so tightly that you don’t hear the knock at the door. or the ‘i’m coming in’ from alhaitham. well, he was bound to find out one way or another.

TIGHNARI — matching bracelets

tighnari’s tongue stuck out a little when he was focused— a cute habit of his that you had yet to comment on. now, he was focused on latching a clasp on a bracelet he had bought you. on his wrist was a matching one: gold and green with incredible luster. he was struggling. “need help, nari?” you ask, giggling. “no. m’fine.” he was certainly not fine, with how long it was taking him. “you’re so cute,” you say softly, tighnari looking up at you annoyed. “and?” you laugh again, the clasp on your bracelet still not closed. you kiss the top of his head, chuckling. “i think you need some help, hon.”

CHILDE — matching scarves

the chilly weather of snezhnaya warranted thick coats, long bottoms, and heavy boots. hats or earmuffs were common, but scarves were practically a staple fashion item. they could be worn multiple ways, styled impeccably, and still keep you warm. so when childe gifted you a red scarf that perfectly matched his own, you melted. “is this for me?” you whispered, childe chuckling at the awe in your tone. “uh-huh. look, it matches mine! and red’s a common color here, so it doesn’t look suspicious,” he said. but the real test would be when he was out in public. the red on his face could easily be explained away as from the cold, but you knew that the rosy tint was him blushing. you buried your face in your own scarf, embarrassed. childe just thought it made you look cuter.

[writer-freak]

Caring for sick reader | Haikyu x Gnreader

Characters: Kuroo, Oikawa, Atsumu and Bokuto

Warnings: Gn reader, mentions of being sick, reader getting called babe (Bokuto|Atsumu) and darling (Oikawa), maybe a bit all over the place, english isn't my first language

A/n: I recently got sick as did all my friends so I wrote a little something also I'm just obsessed with Haikyuu right now. I'm maybe gonna do another part with more characters because I already started writing for that but it's gonna take a while as I'm currently sitting on longer projects for my besties

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more <3

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo would notice you weren’t feeling well the moment he stepped into the room. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and the slight flush on your cheeks and the tired look in your eyes were immediate giveaways.

“Hey, you’re burning up,” he said, placing a cool hand on your forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling sick?”

You mumbled something about not wanting to bother him, but Kuroo shook his head, a fond yet offended smile on his face. “You’re never a bother, you know that.”

He gently guided you to the nearby couch and wrapped you in a cozy blanket. “Stay here. I’m going to make you some tea and grab some medicine.”

Kuroo moved around the kitchen, brewing some herbal tea and rummaging through the medicine cabinet. He returned with a tray, placing it carefully on the coffee table.

“Drink this,” he said softly, handing you the tea. “And take these. They’ll help bring your fever down.”

As you sipped the tea, Kuroo sat next to you, running his fingers through your hair soothingly. “You know, you’re lucky you have me to take care of you,” he teased, his voice full of warmth. “Just relax and let me handle everything.”

He spent the rest of the day making sure you were comfortable, keeping you hydrated, and occasionally checking your temperature. Kuroo also set up a humidifier nearby to help you breathe easier and made sure the room was at the perfect temperature for you.

Every once in a while, he would disappear into the kitchen, making you more tea or cooking some soup. Each time he brought something for you, he would explain its benefits with a little smirk “This one’s got ginger in it. Great for the immune system.”

“Did you know that honey has natural antibacterial properties? Makes it perfect for soothing sore throats,” he commented as he stirred a spoonful into your tea.

When you protested that he didn’t have to do so much, he just shrugged and said, “Hey, I like taking care of you. Plus, it gives me a chance to show off my skills.”

In the evening you had moved over to the bed, he put on your favorite movies and snuggled up next to you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Before bed, Kuroo made sure you were tucked in with an extra blanket before lying down next to you. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he assured you, his tone gentle.

Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa would immediately go into overdrive the moment he realized you were sick. “Oh no, my poor darling,” he exclaimed dramatically, rushing to your side. “You’re sick! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Before you could even respond, he was off, grabbing a fluffy blanket and tucking it around you with exaggerated care. “There, that’s better. You just stay right here. I’m going to make you feel better in no time.”

Oikawa was determined to pamper you while you were sick, ensuring that you had the best care ever. He brought you your favorite snacks, adjusted the pillows behind your back, and put on a marathon of your favorite show.

“Do you need anything else? Water? More snacks?” he asked, practically hovering over you.

When you mentioned feeling cold, he immediately went to get a hot water bottle and an extra blanket, wrapping you up snugly. “We can’t have you feeling chilly now, can we?”

He also made a trip to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine and vitamins. When he returned, he handed you a steaming cup of herbal tea. “This will help soothe your throat and make you feel a little better,” he said with a gentle smile.

Oikawa’s caring side shone through as he stayed by your side, holding your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I hate seeing you like this but don’t worry. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He would occasionally leave to make you something to eat, insisting that you needed to keep your strength up. “I made you some chicken soup. It’ll help you get better faster,” he said, placing the bowl in front of you.

When you were too tired to watch anything, he’d read to you, his voice soothing. “Just close your eyes and listen,” he’d say, gently laying his hand over your eyes.

Oikawa really makes sure you're comfortable and taken care of, always checking on you to see if you need anything else. “Do you want me to call the doctor? Or maybe get some more medicine?” he’d ask, his concern evident.

As the night came, he made sure you took your medicine on time, bringing you water and anything else you needed. “You’re my top priority right now,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

When it was time for bed, he gently helped you settle in, making sure you were warm and comfortable. “If you need anything during the night, just wake me up, okay?” he said, lying down beside you and holding your hand.

Miya Atsumu

It took a moment for Atsumu to notice something was off, but then he caught on to how you were a bit more sluggish and less energetic than usual.

“Hey, babe, ya don’t look so good,” he said, his brows knitting together in concern. “Are ya feelin’ okay?”

You admitted that you weren’t feeling your best, and Atsumu immediately sprang into action. “Alright, just lie down and let me take care of ya.”

He made you comfortable on the bed, tucking a blanket around you and making sure you had a glass of water within reach. “I’ll be right back,” he promised before disappearing into the kitchen.

Atsumu was a bit all over the place, rummaging through the cupboards and fridge, muttering to himself about what to make. You could hear the clatter of pots and pans as he tried to whip up something. After what felt like forever, he finally returned with a bowl of soup, his expression proud but a little uncertain.

“I tasted it, and it’s pretty good, so eat up,” he said, handing you the bowl with a slightly nervous smile.

As you ate, he sat beside you, continuously talking to keep your spirits up. “Ya know, yer pretty cute when you’re sick, with your face all flushed” he teased, giving you a wink. “But don’t get used to this—yer not allowed to get sick just for my cookin’.”

Despite his playfulness, Atsumu was incredibly attentive. He kept fluffing your pillows, checking your temperature, and asking if you needed anything else. “Do ya need more water? How ‘bout another blanket? Are ya warm enough?”

At one point, he brought over a small mountain of tissues, saying, “Just in case, ya know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, which made him grin. “See? I'm the best at caring for ya? But seriously, I’m here, and I’m gonna take care of ya until yer all better.”

Bokuto Koutarou

Bokuto’s reaction to you being sick was immediate and intense care. The moment he saw your pale face and heard your hoarse voice, his eyes widened with worry. “Oh no, Babe, you’re sick!” he exclaimed, almost panicking. “What can I do? How can I help?”

You reassured him that you just needed rest, but Bokuto was determined to make you feel better. He rushed around the house, gathering blankets, pillows, and anything else he thought you might need. You couldn’t help but smile at his efforts.

“I’ll stay with you,” he declared, sitting down next to you and wrapping his arms around you. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

At one point, he disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear the clatter of pots and pans as he attempted to make you soup. You chuckled softly to yourself, imagining the mess he was likely creating.

He returned triumphantly with a bowl of soup, though it looked a bit questionable. “Here, I made this for you!” he said, beaming with pride. You took a hesitant sip and smiled at him. The soup wasn’t the best, but his effort was appreciated nonetheless.

As the day went on, Bokuto’s concern didn’t weaken. He checked your temperature every hour, fretting over the numbers on the thermometer. “You’re still warm,” he muttered, his brow furrowing. “Do you need more blankets? Less blankets? More soup?”

“Bokuto, I’m fine,” you assured him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “My fever isn't going to go down immediately.”

But Bokuto was still determined, he flitted around the room, tidying up and making sure you had everything you could possibly need. Despite his usual loud and energetic demeanor, he was surprisingly gentle and attentive, adjusting his tone as best he could.

“This is going to be over soon,” he said softly, his hand warm against your forehead. “I’m here, and I’ll take care of you.”

His care just made you feel incredibly loved, even though he was a bit over the top, his personality always made you smile, despite how miserable you felt physically right now.

As the evening came, Bokuto finally started to calm down a bit. He sat beside you on the couch, wrapping you in his strong arms. “You know, you’re always so amazing,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I hate seeing you like this, but you’re handling it so well. I don't think I would be this calm while sick”

You leaned into him chuckling, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “I’m not that great,” you said softly. “But having you by my side makes it a bit easier. And even if you are being a baby while sick I will still take care of you.”

Bokuto’s eyes softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here for you,” he promised. “No matter what.”

[asraxfile]

ᴡɪʟʟ ɪ ᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ?

sypnosis: at first, you were annoyed at the fact your parents made you visit your grandma for the weekend. But what girl will make you change your mind to make you question, will you ever see her again?

pairing: non-idol!Minjeong x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: kissing, implied smoking in this,

wc: 3.2k

It was an early Friday morning. 8AM to be exact. As the sun creeped through your window, the annoying ringing of your alarm awoke you immediately. Your room was chilly and colder than usual, only making you grumble and bury yoir head deep into the mattress's warmth.

Your parents are not home this weekend due to some plans, so your mother decided to make you visit your grandma so that you don’t get lonely. If I would ask you, you didn’t wanna go, but still you agreed. Either way you never do anything at home alone, you just enjoy the quiet.

As you finally sat up on your bed, grumbling, you stretched yourself. Rubbing your sleepy eyes before looking at the prepared clothes on the chair. Messily, you put on an oversized T-shirt with some kind of print, a pair of your favorite dark blue jeans and a short jacket.

“I don’t like you being alone that’s why I want you to go there.” Your mother said, gripping the driving wheel as she spoke with calmness. While you gazed at the unknown streets outside the window.

“You didn’t have to force me though.” With an angry tone you replied. Your mother just sighed as she pulled up to your grandma’s driveway before turning to you. “Please don’t do anything risky, grandma is happy you’ve decided to come.” She held your arm, trying to reassure you. You just stared at her, then let out a tired sigh and got out of the car. Taking your bag and a small suitcase out with you.

Your grandma was really happy to see you after so many years and hugged you tightly. With a relaxing smile, you hugged her back. “My dearest, come inside so you don’t get a cold.” She shows you the way in her house up the stairs. Before, you waved your mother goodbye.

Hours passed and you’ve become more comfortable around your grandma. She made your favorite dish and both of you talked about small things. Just normal conversations. Her house wasn’t big but it was enough. She had a pretty retro living room with a wider TV and pictures of the family memories all around. The fireplace burned brightly, warming up the whole house. You walked to the bedroom and left your stuff there.

After eating lunch with grandma you were fascinated by the clear sky outside. The wind blew softly as the sun slowly started to go down. “Grandma, I’m going for a walk outside. I hope I won’t get lost.” you exclaimed while putting on your boots.

Chuckling, your grandma replies, “I’m sure you won’t, this isn’t a big town anyway.” As you slipped on your jacket you zipped it up till the end. “Imma be back soon. Bye.” You yelled before finally going outside.

The town really wasn’t that big anyway. The trees had already fallen due to the late autumn season. You inhaled the cold air and started walking. Looking around, you saw the reason why autumn was your favorite season of all time. It was never too cold but never too hot. But, since winter is soon coming, it’s starting to get colder.

You walked and walked until you saw the ruins of some kind of building in the close distance. It was holding still but you could clearly see the oldness and what it has been through throughout the history. You’re very fond of ruined buildings and the next thing you do is head towards it.

It took you around 8 minutes to get there. Overgrown weeds covered the iron fence, which was still torn and very short in length. You walked to a possible entrance and saw a sign.

“AREA RESTRICTED TO UNEMPLOYED”

furrowing your eyebrows at the eye catching warning sign, you completely ignored it and walked towards the entrance of the building.

Everything was so scattered. The floor was full of glass from alcoholic drinks and the air was kind of sour. but the whole atmosphere was soothing to you.

You walked around, looking at the beautifully drawn graffiti on the walls until you made your way to the stairs. When you went up to the highest floor, you had a sight to see. The sunset.

Exhaling a ‘wow’, you slowly walked towards the edge, guessing a large window was supposed to be there. You sat, enjoying the quiet presence and watching the sunset. The sky was now painted in various pink shades. The sun being in just the right detail for this moment. Leaning your head against the cold wall, you closed your eyes for a moment. But in that moment someone came behind you.

“Aren’t you cold?”

an unknown female voice asked from behind. In that exact moment, you panicky opened your eyes and turned to the mysterious girl in a reflex. Scanning her figure, you stared at her as your brain processed what she just asked you.

An average heighted girl with short dirty orange hair with dark brown eyes. Her face was kinda pale and she had a confused look on her face. She wore a dark green jacket with her hands deeply buried in its pockets. Well, before she took out a cigarette while waiting for your answer. You were more confused than her, who is this cute girl? What does she want?

“I’m not actually…” you quietly replied while lightly shaking your head. The girl took a quick puff of her cigarette before swiftly sitting down next to you, looking at the sunset. You didn’t know why but her presence made you feel more relaxed, like all the pieces were in their place, like all the worries washed off your shoulders in a second.

But curiosity was stronger than you.

“So uhh…” nervously you started as she turned to look at you. “What’s your name?” A silly question to ask but you still did it. The girl took another puff and exhaled the tough smoke as it blended with the wind. “Kim Minjeong, you?” her eyes lit up with curiosity.

“L/n Y/n, nice to meet you.” You shook hands with a new acquaintance. She slightly chuckled at your formal vocabulary, like you weren’t the same age probably. “What brought you here? This place isn't usually filled with visitors.” Minjeong asked, locking a gaze onto you. Scanning your features and analyzing your reactions.

“I’m here for the weekend at my grandma’s, I went for a walk cause I need some quiet time.” You sighed, looking down at your hands then at Minjeong. “Hm.” She hummed. “Interesting.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna come here though.” You confessed. Minjeong noticed your down demeanor. Tilting her head, “Why not?” asking with a demented tone. “Don’t you love your grandma?”

“It’s not that it’s just…I’d rather not go anywhere.” Starting, you turned away from Minjeong’s face. “Nothing feels like home anymore.” furrowing your eyebrows your tone deepened.

Venting to an unknown girl called Kim Minjeong was never on your plan list today, but you were glad she was there listening.

There was a tough silence between you. Only the wind blowing and distant car driving were heard in the distance as the sun slowly and slowly went down.

“Need a puff?” Minjeong turns to you, holding her cigarette for you in between her index and middle finger. At first, you were shocked, but at second, you took the offer.

Softly, you took a puff of her cigarette, half inhaling half exhaling. You could feel your suffocating stress diminishing and you were grateful for her offer. The smoke took over your lungs as your mouth smelled like it too. It was relaxing.

“Thanks” you blurted out, making Minjeong smile as she took the last puff. She threw the cigarette filter down the tall building and rested her hands on the ground.

The wind blew roughly as the sun was already down. “I’m sorry if I can’t help you, I saw you there and thought you felt…lonely.” Minjeong said, lighting yet another cigarette.

Holding the cigarette between her soft pink lips she tried to light it up, but the wind was too breezy. Minjeong clicked with her tongue, struggling.

Suddenly, in a swift reflex, you got closer to her and put your hands around her mouth, better said her cigarette. Minjeong didn’t flinch but she was still surprised.

“Don’t worry, still, I’m glad I’m listened to.” you softly spoke while covering her cigarette it finally lit up in bright red. With each puff Minjeong pulled it slowly disappeared in various shades of grey. “Thanks” she mumbled through with a small smile.

In moments of silence and small assurable talks, you and Minjeong got along in such a short time. This short attachment got fond of you and Minjeong too. You stayed till late hours at the ruined building, as long as you two were together, you felt at home.

It was just another day, a day you didn’t wanna spend with anyone but alone, away from this place. But then why did you feel so weird while spending time with Minjeong? Why did she give you this sparkling feeling you didn’t know where it tickled?

She was something else. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to come here cause you sure didn’t want it to end.

Minjeong walked you home to your grandma’s house. Laughing along the way, both of you discovered a thing or two about each other through it. The tension, the small looks and the way both of you calmly talked with each other, it wasn’t just so casual as it seemed.

“I gotta go now but uh…” you started, looking at Minjeong’s eyes with an unsure twist. Them slowly, you pulled her into a tight hug. Wrapping your hands around her upper back and her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder. Melting into her touch, she didn’t hesitate to hug you back. “I’m glad I met you today.” You said, slightly pulling away from the hug.

“Me too, wanna hang out tomorrow…or?” Minjeong asked with a tone, like she wanted you to say yes. She held onto your lower arm and locked eye contact with you.

“Of course, before I leave, why not?” You replied, giving her a reassuring smile. Minjeong grinned, her smile so radiant it made your chest flutter. “Great, I’ll meet you here at noon, okay?” she said, stepping back with a weird vibe, as if leaving you was the last thing she wanted to do.

You nodded, your own grin creeping up. “It’s a plan. Goodnight, Minjeong.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” she replied, her voice was soft yet it made your heart flutter. She walked away, her silhouette disappearing into the dark streets, leaving you standing at your grandma’s gate with a strange warmth blooming in your chest.

As you entered the house, your grandma noticed the faint smile on your face. “Had a good walk, dear?” she asked, her tone teasing but kind.

“Yeah,” you replied, setting your boots aside. “Met someone interesting.”

She chuckled knowingly, patting your shoulder as you passed. “Good for you. A friend is a good thing to have.”

You just nodded, heading to your room. Tired and devastated, you were ready to go to bed and finally rest. But your expectations were too high cause sleep didn’t come easily, though.

Minjeong’s face—her heartfelt grin, the way her hair caught in the cold breeze, and her steady, comforting presence—her eyes. It all played in your head, over and over. Something about her felt so natural, so magnetic, like she was a piece of a puzzle you didn’t know you were missing. Minjeong got you completely under her spell.

The next noon arrived, and the world seemed brighter than usual. And so, the two of you met at the ruined building once again.

Both continued to chit chat, laugh, smoke and just spend quality time together. It was quite an interesting experience.

Their day was fulfilled with joy and happiness. The freedom Minjeong could offer you made you a little sad. Sad that you had to go home in the evening.

Two souls met, met just a day ago, and hoped their joy would last forever.

But even after the warm sun, cold rain must come too.

Hours passed and it was already late and you still had to pack your things for home.

“I wish I didn't have to go home today…” you said, resting your head against Minjeong’s shoulder. Her head resting on yours. Both of your presences intertwined like a perfect match. “Don’t worry, you can always come back and you’ll know where to find me.” Minjeong reassured, looking down on you while putting a strand of your hair behind your ears.

Her voice was gentle, gentle like a leaf falling down. You looked up at her and gazed, full of love. Minjeong gave a smile and got up. “Imma walk you home.” She finally said.

You didn’t wanna go, but you stood up with Minjeong, following her steps to the exit.

“How long did it take to get here? I mean your grandma’s.” Minjeong broke the awkward silence, curiosity filling her tone. “Like an hour. It’s pretty far away.” you concluded.

After you stated that, a large cold wind blew towards the place. Minjeong didn’t have a reaction, but you did. Feeling the coldness take over your hands and face made your nose runny and it messed up your hair. “Goddd it’s so cold. I should've worn a better jacket.” complaining, you dug your hands deep into your thin jacket pockets, savouring all the warmth possible.

Minjeong had a slight questioning expression, like she was thinking about something particular. Then, she unzips her jacket and takes it off. Without first notice, she wraps it around your trembling shoulders, making you warmer. Minjeong’s perfume gets stuck in your nostrils.

In shock you slightly open your mouth then turn to face her. “But now you’re gonna be co-” soon after, she interrupts you. “Don’t you wory, I’ll be fine.” She gently smiled looking down on you who stopped walking. “Consider it a gift.” Her grin became softer making you smile back as you teo continued walking.

Silence was too loud, you hated it. This was probably the last moment you’re seeing Minjeong and you’re silent.

It’s like the first time you met yesterday, complete silence speaking for the both of you.

Walking near your grandma’s street, your heart raced with a constant pace. You didn’t wanna leave, you wanted to stay with her.

But before you shifted sideways towards the known street, Minjeong gently pulled your arm in the dark alley, making you shift in reaction. Surprisingly, Minjeong pulled you into a warm embrace, leaning her back against the cold wall and captured your figure into a heartfelt hug.

Burying her face into your shoulder, you were speechless at the sudden contact. You could feel the tension rising between the two of you. Minjeong gently hugged you tightly, as if you were made out of sugar and could melt at every slight drop. But she held you like she didn’t want to let you go.

“Minjeong…” you whispered out her name, melting into her touch. Since she was slightly taller than you she had easy access to taking control.

“Y/n I…” she wasn’t a woman of words, but you could see Minjeong tried to speak in moments like this. “I’m so glad I met you yesterday and I…” she held your left cheek while looking deep into your eyes. “I’ll miss you so much.” she exhaled the words right into your ear making your heart flutter eith anticipation.

“I’ll miss you too.” confessing, you caressed her back, gently and slowly. Before slightly pulling away from her embrace to capture the glimpse of her eyes.

It’s almost like she was on the verge of tears.

You brushed a hair strand out her face and gently smiled at her. Looking at her lips, then her eyes then lips again. The heat rose up like a flicker of spark and it made you make the next move.

Slowly, pulling Minjeong in a gentle kiss. Her soft plump lips pressing against yours, kissing her in her warm green jacket. Minjeong froze, but let herself in the kiss. Minjeong’s hands slid down to your waist, holding you as close as possible. The world seemed to pause around you, leaving only the warmth of her kiss and the quiet hum of your shared breath.

Her lips moved tenderly against yours, careful and peaceful, as if she wanted to memorize every second of this heated moment. When she finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, you could see the faint blush of her cheeks.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/n,” she breathed out your name with a laugh, her voice mixed with mockness and amusement.

You couldn’t help but smile, your own cheeks starting to heat up. “What can I say?” you murmured, echoing her words from earlier.

Minjeong chuckled, her eyes softening as she brushed a thumb along your cheek.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or heavy. It was natural—comfortable, though filled with complicated emotions, you both understood each other.

Slowly, Minjeong pulled her green jacket tighter around your shoulders, smoothing it over you with care. The more she pulled the jacket over you, the closer she drew you to herself.

“Take good care of this, okay?” she wanted softly, her tone teasing yet affectionate. “It’s my favorite jacket.”

You clutched the fabric, inhaling its familiar scent. “I will,” you promised. “But now I owe you a jacket.”

“Deal,” Minjeong replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’ll just have to come back to pay me back.”

Both of you chuckled at your silliness as Y/n hugged Minjeong’s waist, savouring her comforting presence. Resting your head on her collarbone.

The two of you lingered in the alley for a moment longer, neither wanting to break the spell of the night. But eventually, the reality of time caught up with you, and Minjeong stepped back, though her hand lingered on your arm.

“Take care of yourself, Y/n,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, not wanting to let go of your cold hand. “And don’t forget about me.”

“As if I could,” you replied with a grin, your heart heavy yet hopeful.

With one last touch, Minjeong pulled you into another kiss, this time a shorter one since they stood on her grandma’s doorway. Looking at each other's eyes—sadness covering your eyes.

“Will I ever see you again?” Worry splattered around your mind before Minjeong smiled, imperfectly.

“One day," she starts, "fate will make us meet again.” She held your cheek and shoulders. “Goodbye, Y/n.”

With one last hug you sent a goodbye to her.

And then, just like that, she let go.

Minjeong waved one last time as she turned and walked back into the quiet town, her figure slowly fading into the shadows of the night. You stood there, rooted to the spot, your fingers brushing against the fabric of her green zip-up jacket, the lingering feel of her kiss burning on your lips.

The world around you felt achingly still, as though it too mourned her absence. But beneath the weight of your sadness, there was a flicker of hope. A promise unspoken but understood.

Minjeong had a way with you, the right person at the wrong time. Though she loved you dearly in such a short time, you got away.

[southernbluebellereader]

Being Chosen...By A Baby

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley x F! Single Mom (COD MW(2/3))

Warning: Fluffy stuff, Baby Fever, MAJOR BABY FEVER

Summary: Simon Riley isn't too particular about babies, until he meets yours.

Word Count: ~1,670 words

Master List | Tag List Request (Tag List At The Bottom)

A/N: I loved writing this, it's been on my mind for a while. I didn't like the ending because I didn't know how to end it lol

Edit: Pronouns and names were all over the place but it should be fixed lmao thanks for letting me know

Imagine being chosen by someone. Someone intentionally looking at you and thinking - contemplating, deciding - and choosing to pick you. It’s as simple as picking you to ask for directions, ordering a cup of coffee, and begging to touch your skin.

But it’s something special when someone as small as a little child is looking at you and choosing you. No one knows what goes on in their mind, behind those curious eyes, those rosy and chubby cheeks, that little button nose, that babbling little mouth with teeth fighting to make way. No one knows what those cute little chubby cherubs think when they decide to reach out to grab anything and everything in sight.

The grip of a child is mightier than anyone Lieutenant Simon Riley has ever seen.

Lieutenant Simon Riley - the infamous Ghost. He’s not supposed to exist. The enigma.

Yet… out of anyone who could have found him and had a mighty grip on his gray fleece jacket was your little chunky cherub made of a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls, looking at him with big curious eyes, absorbing information like a sponge. Your little infant son of nine months old, sitting comfortably in a little wrap carrier so that he can comfortably lay against your chest, he has seen Simon and reached out and grabbed a little handful of his gray fleece jacket with no intention of letting go.

It was a quick day for you so you didn’t need the baby carriage today, the wrap keeping your son against your chest would suffice, you liked having your baby against your chest anyways. In the city, it was easy to get around by walking and public transport, but you needed something in the next town over so you had to take the train. The platform for the train was nearly empty, you were early, so you had some time to yourself and your little boy giggling and babbling away, occasionally wiping his nose and talking to him about the plans for the day.

Slowly but surely, people started to pile in as the time went on, the train would be arriving soon.

Even a ghost needs a place to stay, right. On the occasion that he is home, he tends to stay out of his home, usually to replace food that had spoiled while he was gone. Simon arrived at the train station and waited on the platform. It wasn’t too cold, but chilly enough to wear his gray fleece jacket.

It was nice and quiet until more people started to pile up onto the train station. Usually he didn’t mind until people started to get into his personal space, which rarely happened anyways. Even in more civilian clothes, in a place where people barely recognize him, despite him living there, people tend to stay away from people who look mysterious.

As more people pile into the station, he slowly moves towards the center of the station. Huffing slightly to himself, he glances slightly at the giant clock. The train would be arriving soon. As he waited, he’d hear bits and pieces of conversations from people about their lives.

He didn’t mind it, he felt more human.

After a while, he heard something he didn’t hear often.

An animal?

No.

A baby.

The baby seemed to continue to babble, getting louder as he moved again. For some reason it made him curious. It’s not that he wasn’t fond of children, his childhood was pretty fucked up, but a child was an innocent being in this cruel world. Sometimes he wondered what he’d be like if he’d spent more time around children - or what things would be like if he had children.

But that’s just a random thought in his mind. A man like Lieutenant Simon Riley - with the sins and atrocities he’s been through and committed, he has no business having children. He is the one mothers tell their children to stay away from. He is the boogeyman underneath a child’s bed.

Hearing the babbling again, he instinctively turns his head and looks around for a moment, then looks down, seeing the source of this little creature.

An infant child, probably no more than 9 months old, a drool covered fist in his mouth, the other arm flailing in every direction. And you, holding your child wrapped in a long cloth and tied around your waist, Simon couldn’t figure out how you held the chunky child on your chest with just a scarf. 

You were on the phone with someone talking about baby related things. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and your baby. Such a mundane sight. A mother and her child. He glanced at your hand caressing your child’s chubby and rosy cheeks. No ring. Single mom? No wait, that’s rude. 

Cracking a small smile at the sight, he looked at the child for a moment, finding amusement in how you tried to sooth your child as you talked on the phone, swaying your hips slightly. You kept your eyes on your little cherub the entire time, playing with your son’s cheeks, making him giggle and smile, occasionally acknowledging him, calling him your honey bun.

Then you got caught up with your conversation and looked away. Your child looked around for a moment, content and happy. Simon didn’t know what he found so amusing and intriguing about this child. When he thought about children, he thought of crying little messes, unruly children, little rascals who were nothing but trouble.

This little dough-boy? He had an urge to just poke his little rosy cheeks. You were holding your son, Simon practically stood right next to you but he couldn’t tell you what you were talking about. Your little cherub had dampened his senses.

More people started to fill the train station. The train would soon arrive. Simon was practically next to you. At this point, he didn’t mind being next to you and your baby. As more people surrounded the three of you, you glanced up at Simon and smiled sheepishly and mouthed ‘Sorry’ in an attempt to apologize in case she’d bumped into him. Simon saw as you wrapped your free arm tighter around your baby that was tightly wrapped against your chest.

It’s ok. You’re fine. He didn’t even know you, but he didn’t want anything to happen to you or your baby. 

He knew the train would be arriving soon so he looked up at the time and looked to see if the train would be coming soon. Staring was rude. He had manners.

Not even a moment passed after he looked away did he feel a slight tug on his arm. Suddenly aware of his surroundings he looked down again. Your little munchkin demanded attention from the behemoth of a man named Simon. You were still on the phone, looking away.

Simon smiled at the sight and sighed in relief. You little rascal. Their eyes met, for such a cute little thing, your son looked at Simon intently, studying him. Simon was wondering what he was thinking. The little hand that had such a strong grip on his fleece jacket tugged at him to come closer.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” Simon said, using his other hand to wave at your child, making him smile slightly and let out a gleeful sound.

You turned your head at the sound and laughed at the sound of your son laughing, then blushed when you realized he was pulling on Simon’s sleeve. She quickly said her good-bye on the phone and hung up, then looked up at Simon, smiling sheepishly.

“I-I’m sorry, sir-” You gently pulled on your baby’s arm to try and get him to let go of his arm.

Simon let out a small chuckle as he waited patiently, smiling at the sight, “It’s fine. He’s got a mighty grip, alright.”

You chuckled as your child started babbling at Simon, as if he could be understood, refusing to let go despite your attempt to make him unhand Simon, “Once they got you, they don’t want to let go.”

You glanced up at Simon, seeing a small smile on the man. He reached up also with his free hand and gently held the child’s wrist, “I ain’t going anywhere, you can let go of me now. I think we’re going on the same train.”

Your child finally let go but continued to try and reach out for Simon, instantly taking a liking to him. You sighed as you looked up at Simon, the train finally approaching, “I’m sorry again, sir-”

“It’s fine, really. You’ve got a cute one.” Simon smiled at you and your child, who was still mesmerized by him.

You smiled up at him in return, glancing down at your son, then back up at Simon, “Haha yeah, he is something.”

Once the train doors opened, people quickly exited the train as quickly as people entered.

“This is my train-” You looked up at him and then toward the train, then attempted to walk forward. But people rushed around them. You kept your arms around your child and Simon felt the need to stay close, this way people would actually walk around you as you and Simon stepped into the train. 

Once inside, you found a seat and sighed as you sat down. The seats filled up quickly and Simon ended up sitting opposite of you and your baby.

Smiling awkwardly at each other, you apologized again for your son grabbing onto him.

“It’s fine, really. I like his determination.” Simon looked at him as you turned slightly so Simon could see her son’s face, who smiled when he saw Simon again. “What’s his name?”

“Joseph. But I think he likes being called Joey.” You said as she caressed little Joey’s cheek as he cooed at Simon.

Simon gave her and Joey a genuine smile this time. Joseph… Tommy’s son…

“I’m Simon, what’s your name?” He looked up at her.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

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[megumismyhusband]

A Winter's Stroll⋆⁺₊❅.

megumi fushiguro x reader

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The snowflakes fall softly against Y/N's window, it's delicate patterns illuminated by the glow of holiday lights outside. She leaned against the window, her breath fogging up the glass as she smiled at the scene below. Strings of fairy lights wrapped around lampposts and tree branches, casting the city in a dreamlike glow.

She threw on her favorite coat, wrapping a scarf snugly around her neck before stepping out into the chilly night. The air was crisp, biting at her cheeks, but the excitement bubbling in her chest kept her warm. She spotted Megumi waiting at the corner, his black spiky hair dusted with snowflakes, his tall figure standing out against the sparkling backdrop.

"Took you long enough," the corners of his mouth curved into a fond smile.

"You’re late," she teased as she approached him, her breath visible in the frosty air.

Megumi glanced at her, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "And you’re lucky I didn’t change my mind about coming out in this cold," he muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite.

She giggled, slipping her hand into his, her fingers cold but eager. "Come on," she said, tugging him gently. "The lights won’t wait for us."

Megumi blinked, looking down at her hand in his. For a moment, the cold didn’t seem to matter. "Yeah," he murmured, following her lead. "Let’s go."

"It's freezing," Megumi grumbled, tugging her closer as they began walking down the glowing street. His hand never left hers, even as he stuffed them both into the pocket of his coat.

"You say that every time, but you secretly love this," Y/N said, grinning as she caught him stealing glances at the lights above them.

"Maybe," he admitted, his voice soft.

They strolled through the city, the snow crunching under their boots as they took in the dazzling decorations. Storefronts gleamed with festive displays, and the faint sound of holiday music spilled from cafes. The world seemed to slow down, the vibrant colors and soft snowfall creating a dreamlike haze.

"Look at that one," Y/N said, pointing to a tree wrapped in lights that shifted colors like a kaleidoscope.

Megumi stopped walking, tugging her back gently so they stood still, the rainbow lights dancing across their faces. His gaze wasn’t on the tree, though—it was on her.

"You look really happy," he murmured.

"I am," she replied, her cheeks warming under his intent gaze. "It’s perfect."

His lips quirked up in a rare, genuine smile as he gave her hand a light squeeze. "Then I guess it was worth coming out, even if I hate the cold."

"You mean pretending to hate the cold," she teased, leaning her head against his shoulder as they continued walking.

"Whatever," he muttered. As the snow continued to fall, Y/N felt her heart swell with gratitude for the moment they were in—so simple, so sweet, yet so perfect. The lights above seemed to twinkle just for them, and the warmth of his presence was all she needed to feel at home.

"Thank you for coming out with me," she whispered softly, "Like I’d say no," Megumi replied, his voice soft and loving.

As she turned her gaze upward, marveling at the lights, he glanced at her, the glow of the holiday lights reflecting on her face. A warmth spread through his chest, making the icy air feel far away.

He said nothing, letting the moment linger. In that quiet warmth, the cold didn’t matter. All that mattered was her hand in his and the feeling that everything, for once, was exactly as it should be.

[socheckitout-mikey]

do u think u could do something where johnny and the reader aren't officially dating or anything but she keeps stealing and wearing his clothes, and the gang starts teasing them for it, which eventually leads to him actually asking her out? i'm sorry if this is too much or anything but thank you so much!!

ahhh this is so cute! idk how i missed this one. my apologies for taking so long writing it out. it came out waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with. (': <33 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: The Shirt Thief

Pairing: Johnny Cade x reader

Summary: A cold night with Johnny Cade in the vacant lot brings you an unusual sense of warmth in the form of his denim jacket. What starts off with said jacket, causes you to end up with multiple articles of Johnny's clothes. It all seems harmless until the gang starts digging their noses into Johnny's business. Are you guys friends or are you more than that?

Word Count: 9,472

Disclaimer: THIS IS EDITED! I fixed the spelling mistakes and some of the grammatical errors. I also added a few new things to it, mainly in dialogue. I hope you like it though! :)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse in Johnny's home (with his parents), animals hunting and fighting, Soc's bullying the reader - vice versa, almost attempted assault, the gang coming to the rescue, rough housing with the gang (banter mainly) and a whole lot of sass! Johnny is somewhat ooc here because he's more talkative and sassy, but it's just how the piece came along! Let me know if I forgot anything else.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

  The story of our pesky shirt thief begins in the vacant lot under the sparkling night sky. This night was a relatively clear one in the cusp of autumn’s frost. The full moon was ample, a stunning silver glow that hypnotically danced, shrouded slightly from the wispy clouds sent onward by the chilly fall wind. Amber, golden and burnt brick red crumpled leaves tumbled noisily across the sandy dirt in a mini whirlwind. A toasty fire was being nurtured timidly upon the outskirts of this deserted place, courtesy of Johnny Cade. Underneath the jagged canopy of an almost bare tree, losing its wrinkled leaves, our greasy raven haired boy’s fingers quivered around the spindly stick in his hand. Gave an experimental poke to the half snapped branch swarmed by the smouldering, orange flames. He did not shiver from the cold, but from rampant nerves that pertained to someone he was particularly fond of being there beside him. That person being you.

  In a gloomy haze, stretched over sixteen years, the dependent vacant lot with all of its decaying junk left to rot had become his home away from home. It was somewhere he could come to in order to escape the harshness he had just down the street, riddled with its cluttered and intense violence. The one he had with his parents – if he could ever really call them that – had never been consumed with even an inkling of love or nurturing. It practically rotted away from the inside out with its creaky floorboards, dust riddled insides and the damp lining the walls like a thick winter scarf. A location where he was destined to be neglected in, for the only attention he obtained was to be hollered at by his mother when she was hacked off at whatever or whoever it was that particular time: Whereas his father brandished anything he could in hand to pelt him with. The thought made Johnny shudder, a sick nauseous feeling welling up inside of him. Slimy and cold.

  However, not all was lost. There had been some silver linings in teaching him things such as love, loyalty and camaraderie: His gang of reliable buddies that would stretch to the ends of the Earth for him were the culprits. Although they had nothing too, they gave him everything he’d been missing. Well, almost everything. They were the sole reason he had not run away about a million times by now. They grounded him, created a net of safety and support that he never would have experienced otherwise if he had not been born in this very downtrodden neighbourhood. Yet they could not save him from everything – a harsh reality he came face to face with daily. Nothing and no one could ever replace the lacking love of his parents.

  Nevertheless, the youthful greaser that looked as if he were a puppy that had been kicked one too many times had grown used to bumming around most nights on the busted leather car seat left to waste away in the lot. A frequent bed he now sat upon to gaze up at the glittering stars in the midnight haze of the dark sky. He pondered to himself, watching it while his most favourite person in the world sat off to his right. The silence between you both wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just off experiencing your own inner worlds whilst you enjoyed the other’s presence. Johnny wasn’t much of a talker as is. You understood the chips he had on the table and didn’t mind in the slightest, but you had your ways of getting him talking.

  Despite the fact that he had a warmer and much more benevolent destination to crash at nightly: The Curtis House. He felt an immense pang of guilt and shame engulf him entirely at the thought of taking up that space. This house did not consume the same dreamy and abundant riches that one would desire at the core. Instead those fantasies were only destined for reality on the Wicked West Side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. “The home to the rich and greedy,” as Sodapop loved to put it.

  Although the Curtis House lacked in material volume, it oozed a charm in its bare necessities and rundown appearance, with its peeling papered walls and well played piano that needed a miracle of tuning. What it lacked when it came to standardised beauty was made up for by its glowing warmth of love, companionship and acceptance of all the inhabitants that nestled under its rickety roof. It was a safe haven for anyone needing a place to lay low to avoid getting into trouble that could be avoided; a.k.a trouble with the law. Dallas and Steve were also regular inhabitants of the well loved couch perched up against the wall by the front door of the home: A product of powerful tempers that needed quenching. They found solace on that old, brown cushiony hunk of junk just as Johnny did when the nights grew too cold or unbearable on his lonesome.

  Johnny stared up at Orion's Belt wondrously, remembering the time he'd heard Ponyboy rattle on about how he'd woken up to find the notorious Tim Shepard occupying his couch, reading the morning paper.

  'Now, what in the hell was someone like Tim Shepard doin' on the Curtis’ couch?' Johnny thought silently.

  Never had he bagged the likes of the eldest Shepard to reach out for a lifeline like that. It was almost unheard of, unfathomable. Tim was a handsome young man with a gnarly looking scar running from his temple to his chin. He was hard, cold and twisted. Jail, booze and all the criminal endeavours he had under his belt were like a morbid toolkit of how to be the best hoodlum out there. He looked about as capable of accepting charity as a lost soul in Hell. Then Johnny supposed that he never really knew him like Dally did. Johnny's silent disposition made it challenging for him to get close to anyone outside of his gang of buddies. Sometimes he preferred it this way, but usually he loathed it. Loneliness was easy in warping the soul of a good man.

  From what Dally had told him of Tim Shepard, it'd be an immense knock to his swelling pride to reach out for help and have everyone aware of it. Inflated prides and fragile egos didn't do wonders for people with big mouths. Hence why Johnny kept his damn trap shut about it after Pony had told him.

  'Man, he's gotta be pullin' my leg or somethin'.' He said internally before shaking his head.

  Expelling a breath, Johnny settled back into the leather seat as comfortably as possible. He swore he'd get a bad back after opting to take the lumpy side of the car bench with the springs gnawing their way through. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He was a good guy with a good heart.

  Warmth pervaded nicely from the reasonably sized fire he'd established in front of you both, but the chilly wind licked at any bare bits of skin daring to peer through tiny cracks in clothes. He hardly shivered outside of a nervous twitch. Perhaps that was only due to the fact he'd grown accustomed to the elements no matter the weather – unlike yourself.

  Instead his charcoal eyes were doe-like, shakily flickering to his right where you sat. Only then in this moment did he fully come to the present moment, understanding the cold bit at your nose, ears and fingers in a way that looked cute. Yet despite your shivering that you so desperately attempted to hide, you sat there in all of your beautiful glory with only a few inches of space between you both. A comfortability you bathed in that seemed so raw, as if you were merely sitting on your living room couch with both of your knees and feet tucked under you and just off to the side. Peace prevailed from the tender smile gracing your features. A subconscious practice, you definitely seemed to be lost in your own thoughts. Johnny stared at you, and wondered what kind of movie was flashing behind those pretty eyes to have the sun dawn across your face like that. To him, all he could see was the vacant lot – a desolate place where only hoodlums would hang in droves, drawn in by its trashy grounds.

  "You starin' cuz I got somethin' on my mug or it's just that ugly?" You grinned like a chessy cat, turning to look him directly in the eye. Thinking that being a wise cracker was funny.

  Damn you and your perceptiveness.

  Instantaneously Johnny ripped his gaze from yours, stiff as a plank. Embarrassment dashed across every cell in his body and left his lungs flat of oxygen. Man, if he thought his usual heartbeat was fast, what was happening inside of his chest right then must have been the speed of goddamn light!

  All he could do was stammer out, "U-u-uh n-n-neither!" The poor guy sounded like Porky The Pig. 

  Your eyelids fluttered in astonishment at the stuttering mess of a young man he was. So jumpy. A mouse scuttling around on sharp eggshells. Part of you would've felt proud of your handiwork if it had been anyone else, but it was Johnny, your best friend. "Awe shucks, Johnny-cake," you offered him sheepishly, "I didn't tell you to stop. I was just messin' with ya. Gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

  Messing with him? That was evident. He wasn't cross with you for pulling on his leg, just bothered by himself for getting caught out in the act. "S'okay, I g-get it." He shrugged, trying to play it cool whilst he stared into the portal to the Underworld.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" You tried again, bumping him softly with your shoulder.

  "Nothin' much," He lied smoothly, picking at the hole in his tennis shoe.

  "You sure you ain't developin' the cure for cancer or somethin'? You're pretty smart." You inquired with a cheeky beam.

  "Shoot! Do I look like I know what two plus two equals?" Johnny was getting a little bit sassy.

  "Okay okay, I get it. I'll back off." You chortled.

  'Yeah, thank goodness for that…' Johnny thought to himself. Suddenly he was uneasy with the idea of you ever discovering his little moments of staring at you because he loved the way you looked in candid moments like this one just passed. How did one go about saying these kinds of things? Johnny didn't know a lick. He was a dejected lost cause in the romance department. An awkward bump on a log. Felt he looked cruddy right about now too so he scratched the back of his head fervently for a second. No one really gave him a second glance. He was invisible and too quiet to be noticed.

  Yet he failed to realise that you noticed him.

  His forlorn expression had been obscured by his shaggy bangs that hung on his forehead. In fact, they no longer existed. You watched him struggle with something akin to wrestling a twenty foot gator inside of that skull of his. It made you feel funny on the inside, as if you were to blame. Diligently Johnny picked up the jagged stick he'd used to poke the flames with earlier. Started drawing in the dusty cold dirt at his feet. Back and forth, left and right, then round and round. A tedious therapeutic cycle.

  'Yup, he's off to the moon again.' You thought. 'I'll give him a sec to recoup. I think I made him short circuit a little too hard.' 

  Just then the bleakness of the night pressed its breathy lips against you. You shivered in response, huddling unconsciously to Johnny for his radiator heat. Part of him was shaking too. The flames jolted haphazardly. A violent twirl of dead leaves kicked up into the air before the wind relented altogether and they fluttered into the fire that engulfed them. It was a beautiful sight indeed, albeit destructive. The elements typically were unforgiving. That was the cycle of life. Mother Nature worked in wondrous ways that went beyond the mere perception of the human mind. Ever evolving and always there. It had put a smile on your face, and Johnny looked at you once more.

  "Now, you wanna give me a penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

  You slowly turned to look at him, your smile unwavering, "And cash in my trade secrets when you won't give me yours? That don't tally up to me."

  Johnny shrugged, trying to hide a ghost of a smile on his features, "You just caught me off guard that's all…"

  "Oooooh so I got the element of surprise on my side?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Who knew I was mighty smooth!"

  Johnny rolled his charcoal eyes, shook his head with a laugh, "Don't get too big headed now," he warned.

  "Why, cuz I'll float away?" 

  "Naw," Johnny shook his head, "You sound like Two-bit."

  Your countenance fell from grace then; all of the humour drained completely, replaced with a sulk. "Now you just went and ruined it."

  Johnny laughed heartily, "I dunno why you got it against him, yn. It was only fifth grade-," 

  "Don't remind me of fifth grade! He put gum in my hair and you saw it." You warned with a finger pointed at him. “I looked like a coconut headed bum for two years, Johnny Cade! Two years I ain’t ever gonna get back.”

  "Alright, alright! Don't shoot." He mumbled with a half smirk on his face.

  "And don't laugh either. Who's side are you on anyway?" You mumbled with your arms folded over your chest.

  Johnny met his match in attempting to swallow the laughter down, "Who knew you were this much of a sore loser," with a shake of his head.

  "Sore loser my ass…" You retorted, looking off to the side like a petulant child.

  All Johnny could do was laugh.

  The sourness of your mood forced you to realise the lateness of the night. The cold showed its first signs of frost that danced mistily away from the firelight. You quivered fully this time, rubbing your nimble hands up and down your arms. "Are you cold?" Johnny finally had the courage to ask.

  "Uh-huh! But I'll be okay."

  "You know you don't have to tough it out for me, right?" Johnny said sincerely. "You shoulda brought a coat. It's November not August."

  "I forgot, mom." You mumbled wryly.

  "Man, don't call me that. It sounds strange." He pulled a face as he spoke.

  "And why not?" You demanded. 

  "Cuz you sound like T-," He began, but you cut him off.

  "Don't even think about saying that name!"

  Despite himself, Johnny was laughing something awful. A grin spread across his face akin to a mixture of pride and victory. He'd bested you in the end and even you knew it. "You asshole-," You muttered, but it all bled through into your own sense of laughter that mingled with his. 

  Then it seemed to die down, a comfortable glow encasing you both. In the midst of it you hardly realised Johnny shimmying beside you – too caught up in the afterglow. But then an uncanny warmth of freshly worn denim was draped over your shoulders. Ghosts of fingertips touched the nape of your neck as it was laid there. Your head turned to find Johnny retracting his hands shyly and passing it off without a word. The gesture touched you, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  "Why?" Your better judgement couldn't stop the question from flying out of your mouth.

  Johnny squirmed uncomfortably under your focused stare, "I dunno…" he shrugged. "You were cold and didn't have a jacket. It was the right thing to do I guess."

  The right thing to do. It made you beam beautifully then. Johnny Cade was always doing the right thing. Well, maybe not all the time when he was with his buddies, but usually he did. A good guy with a good heart that made yours flutter at the touch. The act of giving you his most prized possession really touched you in ways that made your eyes begin to water. You needed a second to blink them back. Hoping he hadn't noticed. Luckily he hadn't. 

  You thanked him in the only way you knew how to, by leaning your head on his shoulder. He stiffened to the touch, unfamiliar with it. Johnny wasn't much of a hugger, so physical contact was reserved for special moments. He allowed it this time and you felt his body shake, unsure with what to do with himself. Your fingers wrapped around his bicep, a reassuring squeeze so light it helped him realise you weren't going to hurt him. You never could. He was too special, too gentle, but wild in his own way when he let himself out freely. Yet the person he was now, the boy that gave you his jacket and talked with you the most; that was your Johnny Cade.

  "Thank you, Johnny-cake." You whispered into the air, gently holding his hand and squeezing softly. It was sweaty.

  "D-don't mention it." He swallowed, giving you an experimental squeeze back. "It's just my jacket, softie."

  "Who you callin' softie?" You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

  "You."

  Silence befell you, and it was laced in a tranquil dose. Hushed whispers reverberated off of the caverns in your hearts, growing more prominent. All the giggles filled with the springy frolicking of baby lambs. Clumsy and endearing. Johnny lit a fire in you unmatched and vice versa. Young love that was mutual, but unknown to the other. You stayed with him for quite some time, until he walked you home. You'd sent him off with a wave after him shyly telling you to keep it. Made him promise not to sleep out in the cold, and Johnny kept his word. Slunk all the way to the Curtis House three hours before sunup to fortunately find it free. Rest was his, all with a smile screwed on tightly to his features.

  Many more instances of thievery occurred with your pesky little fingers and the growing feelings that possessed you like a restless spirit. Time spent with Johnny became your drug of choice, and you could not get enough of him. No funny business was happening, it was just your personalities melding well together. You brought out a sassy part to him, and surprisingly he could keep up with you. Each meeting was set in colder conditions than the last. Forcing Johnny to bring in what little reinforcements he had. You either seemed to forget a jacket or your layers weren't nearly enough. His jacket was a chameleon's skin, bouncing from his shoulders to yours. His shirts were a comforting reminder of him when he wasn't around – shields against the bleakness of winter. His grey sweatshirt was your favourite. Everything began to accumulate. 

  One day you were both coming from the tracks in the Shepard outfit where a little creek was running through another vacant lot by an old abandoned factory. The water was still frozen and the trees were barren. All sorts of junk stuck to the frosty ground. It was kind of niche-like, a quiet place that seemed abandoned when the sun shone its rays upon Tulsa. It had been an accidental find during a summer day the year before. A superb place to explore when things were warmer and less soggy. Though it was apparent that neither of you had the courage to explore the dangerous insides of the abandoned warehouse in its entirety. Anyone could be lurking there, boobietrapped the innards to protect their stashed hoards. So the pair of you stuck to the outskirts towards the vacant lot beside it.

  There you both were, sat upon a crumpled wall, admiring a winter's afternoon like a pair of Humpty Dumpty’s. The sun was bright in the sky, threatening to melt the world entirely. The first inklings of spring graced reality. The robins were chirping, hopping around in search of food nearby. Adorable feathered critters, so fluffy. They reminded Johnny of Christmas as one turned its neck beside him, curiously looking up into his black eyes. Both were inquisitive of the other.

  "He looks like you-," your half whisper broke out into the air too loudly. The disturbance made the robin jolt and fly off.

  Johnny sighed, "Man, he got so close this time. You just had to go and ruin it didn't you?"

  "I'm sorry. Was there a spiritual connection happening? How rude of me!" You gasped with a hand over your heart.

  He shook his head, grinning because he wasn't angry about it at all. "He was a cute little guy though…"

  "Hence why I said he looked like you." You clarified.

  Johnny exploded with a blush, shaking his head again, "You must've hit your head when you fell on the ice earlier."

  "My head is not any worse off than it was before, thank you very much!" You defended yourself.

  "You know, the first sign of someone tellin’ porkies is denial, right?"

  "I am not tellin’ porkies!"

  "Are too-," Johnny countered, nudging you with his elbow.

  "Am not!"

  Falling back into that effortless banter made you both grin like chessy cats. It was silly, but very much needed. You knew Johnny got extra embarrassed whenever you'd start complimenting him, especially in the looks department. You didn't say these things just to throw him off, but because you truly meant them. Johnny was cute. One of the cutest guys you'd seen in a longtime. Maybe he wasn't moviestar handsome like Sodapop, but girls were missing out when they overlooked him. He had his own things to bring to the table; loyalty, kindness, abiding the law… Just to name a few. You suddenly shook these thoughts out of your head, deciding if you went too deeply down this path that it was best not to be done in Johnny’s presence. Lest you were to blabber about it like you'd done to your other friends who'd told you to ask him out already. They just didn't understand how delicate the matter was really. Johnny wouldn't say yes anyway.

  "Hey look! Those cats are back," Johnny quietly hissed by your side, pulling you out of your daze.

  You followed his line of sight and sure enough the two male felines were there. Lithe in nature and mean looking. A skinny orange tabby trotted forward, a snaggle tooth protruding from his mouth. By his side was his black Bombay counterpart, scraggy bodied with dirty fur and a distinct chip taken from his ear. They were silent, far from their former glory days when they knew what a good home was. The Bombay was a little bigger than his cheddar companion, and it was easily understood by any human looking in that a pact had been formed between them through a necessity to survive. The pair of you had spied them before, a distrusting set that initially hissed and growled. They were all claws and teeth so you kept your distance to avoid any surprise visits to the clinic. However now they seemed to tolerate your presence, acting as if the silence you exuded exempted your existence. Johnny and you admired them, goofy grins on your faces, because the cats were ready to commit their timely crime of hunting for some grub of the day. You knew who they reminded you of.

  "Well if that ain't Dally and Tim," You consciously made the effort to whisper.

  Johnny nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can see it."

  "Which one's which?" You asked, genuinely curious about Johnny's take.

  He was reluctant to take his eyes off the cats, watching them begin prowling forth towards an unsuspecting robin. "Huh?" he hummed, finally looking at you just as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

  "Which cat is Dally and which one is Tim? You know 'em better than I do." You pressed softly.

  "Oh, that's easy, Dally's the ginger tabby and Tim's the Bombay." He offered with a nod of his head in the felines direction.

  "What why?" You demanded it up at him.

  “Well if we’re goin’ off their looks for a start, Tim looks like the Bombay cat. Guy is a real alley cat – got a lot of street smarts and carries himself well. Besides, he's tougher than a bag of nails.” Johnny did have a point – Tim looked just like that black cat with his curly jet hair.

  Speaking of the black cat, it had entered a state of hunting, kneeling down with coiled taught muscles – just ready to pounce on that unsuspecting robin below, pecking at the seeds you and Johnny had left behind earlier. You hoped it wouldn’t be eaten, couldn’t stomach to see something so savage. However, you supposed that was only the way the circle of life worked.

  “The orange tabby’s Dally cuz of that cool look in his eyes. The way he carries himself so freely. Out of the two, the tabby’s the one that’s in charge somehow. He writes the rules that the other cat’s always tryna best.” Johnny offered with a brief shrug before continuing, “Not that the black cat is following any rules. Both have minds of their own.”

  Boy, you could really hear the way he admired Dallas Winston from the way he spoke about the orange tabby. It was wholesome. Dally was Johnny’s hero — the kid practically worshipped the ground the guy walked on. You didn’t see why. To you, Dallas Winston was a rotten hoodlum with a track record of breaking the law in every way, shape and form that he could. He frightened you like The Boogeyman had when you were nine. Where you both engaged with each other somewhat cordially, you preferred to keep your distance. You supposed that you had no room to judge after all. There was a deep friendship that had developed between him and Johnny; you’d seen it in Dally’s cold hard eyes… affection. It made you grin then, wondering if Johnny thought strangely of your heroes too.

  “And both of them are jackasses.” You countered, bumping his shoulder mischievously.

  Johnny laughed a little, looking at you for a few short moments. “Yeah alright, I’ll give you that.”

  You liked the way he’d described the two though. It was a statement that fit the pair of hoodlums in a peapod together. Yet the orange tabby did appear to be the leader as it licked its wonky chops delectably. Inched closer by the second, a silent assassin to carry out its hunter gatherer lifestyle. It was intelligent, mimicking the movement of the robin that had caught onto it. It lured the bird on a swift and winding course, swiping for it good and hard but missed. Never mind. The robin fluttered up and into the line of sight of the black cat, a moment of fear in its beady eyes. Yet just as the night-like feline swept its razors at it, the robin burst into the air and flew off in the opposite direction. It had missed its meal by a feathers length. Every other robin in the vicinity flew off instantly, leaving the two cats dumbfounded.

  In frustration, the orange tabby yowled and darted forth. Its clawed paw zipped out and popped the mouth of the black cat. The black cat hissed, stunned for a mere second before it lunged for the only comrade it had in this god forsaken world. The two tumbled together in an infuriated Halloween special of blurred fur. A gasp floated from your mouth as they rolled back and forth. A genuine cat fight unheard of. They sounded like two ghouls trying to out spook the other – alien and loud.

  Johnny couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. He wasn’t trying to be cruel whatsoever. Didn’t like to see animals fighting and hurting each other, but it humoured some sick part of him. “Just like Dally and Tim, huh? Buddies one minute then at each other’s throats the next.”

  “Amen to that.” You found the humour of the situation, only because it was too similar to the real life hoodlums you both knew.

  You’d seen your fair share of those guys beefing it out in the past together in The Dingo parking lot, let alone practically in your own backyard. They were a strange duo – too competitive and cut from the same cloth. They’d never find another person just like them, that was for sure.

  Just then an icy gust came throttling through the area, reminding you both that it was still winter. A tremor ran through the pair of you, and you huddled together for warmth. By now the cats had slumped off to their own corners of the lot, hissing and growling as they went. Sore egos and bodies made them sulk and mewl in the shade whilst they licked their wounds.

  “Dammit-,” your teeth chattered, moving closer to Johnny. “March my ass…”

  Johnny breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He scanned your features humorously, those bushy brows hidden by a thick blanket of his black greasy bangs that flopped onto his forehead.

  “What?” You mumbled, your fingertips unconsciously reached for him in the space between you both. Johnny didn’t notice.

  He stared at you for a good three seconds before opening his mouth to speak, “How can you be cold with all those layers you got on?”

  “Well I mean it’s obvious, it’s winter.”

  “Uh-huh-,” Johnny sassed, smirking slightly, “As if you ain’t wearin’ my shirt, my sweater and my jeans jacket too. Got the whole department store on your back.”

  Abashment took hold of you as your gaze dropped down to inspect yourself. There was Johnny’s jacket on you, and underneath his tattered grey sweater, that black t-shirt poking up above the collar. And Johnny? He was adorned in a wrinkled white shirt with a blue and creamy egg yellow flannel over the top you guessed was one of the gang’s. Worn over that was Dally’s brown leather jacket with the cosy sheepskin lining. You pouted with a bruised ego, looking off to the side, “It’s not like you’re naked or nothin’…” you murmured petulantly.

  Johnny chuckled breathily, your joined hands jostling as he tugged on it without any semblance of awareness, as if to gain your attention. “Not yet, but I’m gonna be! Man, do you know what I had to say to get this jacket from Dally?” He was teasing you.

  “Mmmppppffff…” you grunted, crossing your legs on that wall.

  “The guys are askin’ questions and I dunno what to tell ‘em any more!” His voice broke a bit before he continued, “Two thinks I’m preparin' to run down the centre of town butt naked!”

  That made you burst out into fits of giggles. The thought was so unorthodox it was hilarious. “You’re tellin’ him that’s the truth right? God, could you imagine? I can see the news articles now: Johnny Cade, Teenage Delinquent Gone Buck Wild!” You beamed, throwing your free hand out to elaborate some unseen picture.

  Johnny shook his head again, laughing with you, “Man, you’re just as bad as Soda!”

  “I’m twice as good looking too!” You offered with all the cheekiness you could muster.

  All he could offer was an entertained roll of his eyes. Your shoulders bumped together, old comrades turned into something more. His soft gaze fell onto your interwoven fingers, and his heart fluttered like dove wings. A widened gaze, then that notorious blush exploded under that tanned flesh. His mind was incapable of functioning. It was wholesome, but you read everything wrong. Made a move to release his hand and he stopped you.

  "Don't." It was the strongest word you'd heard from him as he held your hand tighter than he ever had before. Not enough to hurt you, but to let you know it was real too.

  "Y-you sure?" It was your turn to stutter.

  The look he shared with you may have been wavering to some degree, but there was certainty in those eyes. His mouth opened to speak, "Yeah, I don't mind one bit."

   I don't mind one bit. It ran round and round in your head. A starstruck expression invaded your beautiful countenance. The reassurance was a bonus that made your belly fill with a plethora of butterflies. Cloud nine had nothing on this moment.

  Johnny explored the expressions flitting across your face with a newfound sense of wonder. That pleasant delight racing through you was infectious as you stared off into the junk riddled vacant lot, your mind preoccupied with his hand in yours. The sun dawned across your features once again, like that autumn night you'd spent with him in your neighbourhood's vacant lot. The understanding that he was the source of that made his belly squirm, a giddiness overcoming him. He could no longer deny the fondness he had for you so blatantly.

  With him leaning a little closer to you, he whispered, "How about you give me at least some of my stuff back?" 

  "Mmmmm maybe,"

  "yn-," there was an uncommon sense of sternness in his voice.

  "But-," You tried objecting.

  "No buts-," he rushed out with a shake of his head, "At least give me one! I've been wearing this shirt for three days now!" He was hilariously incredulous.

  "Is that why you stink?" You taunted him.

  "Not funny-," He made his best attempt to be cross with you.

  "Okay, okay! I'll give them back." You said begrudgingly.

  "You better bring the cavalry with how much you have stolen from me, you little shirt thief."

  "In my defence, you did give them to me… But I'll have them for you next time I see you, scouts honour!" You spoke sincerely with your free hand held dramatically over your heart.

  "Uh-huh, that's what you said last time and I still didn't get 'em back." He bantered.

  "Well, that wasn't a real scout's honour." You admitted with a diffident rub to the back of your head.

  "yn-," he shook his head.

  "Hey! I'm serious this time."

  "Good…" He trailed off, his other hand beginning to play with the rings banded around your fingers absentmindedly.

  Blissfulness carried upon the wind, a promise of returning what wasn't yours already settled. Golden light broke through the clouds, catching Johnny in the face directly, which made him grimace evidently. You grew lost in his handsome physique, feeling the pad of his thumb drag up and down the back of your hand. The sensation was special, because Johnny had warmed up to you so much.

  It was a lively Saturday night, and with the determined honour of a scout member, you showed up like clockwork with a bag filled with Johnny's things. It was just as the crowds at The Nightly Double encroached upon the Tulsa streets in boisterous droves. Everyone was high on the giddy delight of the movie they had just watched – the late night viewing of two specials before the drive-in closed its doors for the night. Previous arrangements with another friend had you missing out on the fun, but here you were wearing your very own leather jacket with Johnny's denim one bunched up nervously in the palms of your hands. Speaking of Johnny, he had tagged along with the gang – minus Darry, because movies seemed to bore the older man to death.

  A pair of scrawny looking Socy guys stalked out of the front doors, acting like big shots, cutting in front of a dark green Corvair on its way out and into the oncoming traffic. The driver of the same social class hung out of the driver's window whilst his girl attempted to pull him back in.

  "Hey watch it, wise guys! If you're lookin' to get your asses run over, then be my guests and step back in my line of sight!" He snarled aggressively before his girlfriend won the battle and pulled him back inside to tell him to "knock it off".

  A line began to form behind them as the couple argued incessantly, presumably over the guy's foul temper. Car horns honked on the spring breeze, forcing the guy to nervously step on the gas. They almost crashed into a Chevy Impala before zipping off home. You could see the animated scowl of the girl refusing to talk to her boyfriend in the side view mirror as they retreated. She glowered at you as if you were the scum of the earth. It didn't make you feel too hot.

  The two wisecracking Soc's cackled at their attempts at being hard, stalking forth when they caught sight of your lonesome form. Vile cackles were shot your way as they walked past you before deciding the better option was to encircle you like a couple of hammerhead sharks.

  'Boy, these dingbats don't know what tree they're barking up.' You thought, stiffening your body up for any form of unexpected physical contact. You weren't gonna let yourself get blown over that easy. 

  "What's up, greaser? You lookin' to bum around on our streets?" The six foot tall pencil with the sour breath sneered down at you, bumping your shoulder, making a come around to your left. When he disappeared behind you, the other one with chestnut hair the texture of straw invaded your face.

  "Yeah, who said you were allowed round these parts anyway?" He jeered, smacking his gum obnoxiously.

  Typically these dorks wouldn't have been graced with so much of your attention, but being on your own with a whole sea of onlookers made you weary. However you sure didn't show it. No one was there to stand up for you so you had to do it yourself. All you could do was raise your eyebrows, feeling the burning sense of humiliation rise from the pits of hell beneath your feet. It felt toasty, but the wrong kind. A glower of pure vexation was sent up their way. 'Who are these cocky jackasses, anyway? I've got the same right to use these streets like anyone else!' You contemplated.

  "Oh really? I never knew white trash chequerboards like yourselves owned the streets everybody walks on." Your lips flapped wryly before you could even say a word.

  The entertained gazes of onlookers of every social class stopped to stare. Murmurs of speculation broke out: Two against one didn't typically seem like a fair fight, but with the sheer scrawniness of the socially elite, it seemed to look like the chips fell in your favour. Though you knew appearances could be deceiving, harbouring a surprising sense of physical strength.

  In a rift of the crowd, six pairs of familiar eyes honed in on your shining moment of unprovoked confrontation.

  "White trash chequerboards?!" The pencil growled out, sharing a glance with his straw haired counterpart. For the most part they were dumbfounded, not having expected you to stand up for yourself.

  "If anyone's white trash, it's you, greaseball." The second one jutted his finger in your face.

  Nothing about your countenance betrayed you. Cold and detached you stared at that finger in your face with a deep sense of boredom. Then an almost smug smirk etched your features as you stared up into his grey eyes.

  "Oh my, my!" A dripping sense of mocking venom entered your tone. "Seems like I got more class than that finger you got pointed at me. Seriously, you got a licence to be armed with carryin' that thing? You better watch what you do with it before it falls into the wrong hands. You know, because with great power comes great responsibility and all." You were armed with so much sass it made you invincible.

  The crowd surrounding you burst into a fit of laughter so potent that it burnt these punks into a startled pile of ash. The pair of Soc's were so vapid that they were a bore even to themselves, which is why they were acting out as if they were five times their sizes. You were lively, armed with a silver tongue that could slice just about anyone to pieces who tried to humiliate you.

  "Oh yeah, you little punk?" The first one growled, invading all sense of your personal space.

  You took one step back, your eyebrows raised, "It's his responsibility, not mine. Whatch'yu gettin' all riled up for, eh? Can't take a joke, Mister Funny?"

  "I'll show you a joke when I knock your two front teeth out." He barked.

  Oooh's and aaah's broke through the crowd on a symphony of guffawing. You cocked one eyebrow up at him, a cockiness overcoming you. What could you do otherwise? If no one had your back, you had to have your own. That was just the way the cookie crumbled when you were a greaser – if there was a cookie at all.

  "Oooooh~ Don't threaten me with a good time, pencil dick." You snorted. "I will bend your ass like a goddamn pretzel before you can even have a chance to beg for your mommy to save you."

  The two guys shared a look, the degradation burning their senses of pride to withering embers. Their faces were pinkened beyond recognition, boarding on a fiery red. Your insults only poured gasoline on the fires. They couldn't back out now with the engrossed mass around the three of you. Your body stiffened as they went to grab you, preparing yourself for a fight that would no doubt cause the fuzz to come shutting it down. The image of yourself being cuffed in the back of a cop car had you overcome with a sense of terror. You weren't made for jail with your sharp tongue and sass. Wouldn't last two seconds flat in a grim place like that.

  Before any contact could occur, a boisterous New York accent throttled into the air, a familiar arm slinking over your shoulders, "Hey Dumb and Dumber, you really wanna go gettin' your asses handed to you by a girl in front of all of these people?" Dallas was snickering with a smoke hanging out of his mouth, leaning against you smoothly as he patted your upper arm, but he wasn't your only saviour.

  The other five lean and hard looking members of the Curtis gang had rolled up in all of their greasy headed glory. Pony and Johnny were Dally's flanks whilst Sodapop and Steve jammed themselves on either side of the pathetic turkeys that had bothered you. Two-bit prowled like a cat, that smug, wild grin carved onto his handsome features. The oldest of the six came in the centre of the perpetrators, an arm slung on each of their shoulders. It was overly friendly, even for Two.

  "Well, well, well, if it ain't the socially elite barking up a tree they didn't know was a mountain! I'd get your eyes checked if I were you." He laughed, squeezing them together under his impressive arms. The others joined in.

  "I think it's time these tuff lookin' sons of bitches got in the ring with the big shots." Steve yipped sarcastically, clapping the straw haired guy on the back a little too roughly.

  "Lookin' like a bunch of heavyweight champs, am I right?" Soda leered, his once kind blue eyes filled with a mischievous malice.

  The two Soc's looked at each other, realising they'd made a mistake in targeting you. "We don't want any trouble." The first one said, fumbling.

  "Yeah! We was only just jokin' around." The other made a pitiful attempt at joining in on the laughter.

  "Oh really now?" Dally quipped through dragon's breath, plucking his smoke from his lips and wiping the back of his index finger under his nose like he was annoyed. "I call bullshit, beanpole. Ain't that right, Johnny?" Dally asked Johnny, motioning towards him.

  With a black gaze as cold as obsidian, Johnny nodded his head, "Sure thing, Dally." He refused to take his gaze off of the perpetrators who recognised that hoodlum's menacing name anywhere.

  "Pony?" Dally turned, looking over your head at the fourteen year old greaser with the greyish green eyes. He put that smoke back in between his lips and inhaled sharply.

  "Yup!" Pony popped the 'p' at the end of the word.

  "Great, it's settled!" Dally exclaimed, pulling his arm from over your shoulders and rubbing his hands together like a fly with an evil plan. He stepped forward, his face a mere couple of inches from theirs. "You dumbasses get to go toe to toe with me for fucking with the wrong person, and then my buddies will have what's left of you. How do you like the sound of that?" 

  The way Dally seethed it even had you shaking in your boots. There was almost a sense of honour riding on your guts. It wasn't everyday that Dallas Winston was standing up for you, but when it happened you took it willingly. The two guys had become pale ghosts, shuddering with sweat dewing their foreheads. Dally meant those words, but it seemed he was mainly toying with them. So were the rest of the gang too. With matching Cheshire grins plastered on their faces they watched as the two shoved past Soda, tripping over the boot Johnny had stuck out and shot in through an opening in the crowd to salvation. Sent to faceplant on the ground with a series of laughter as the drama seemed to be over for the most part and people lost interest.

  "Where are you goin'? Wait until we set her on ya!" Sodapop called, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders. 

  "Yeah, she may seem like she’s all bark, but she's got one hell of a bite!" Steve cackled.

  Lost in an ocean of chaos, Johnny's inquiry of concern for you slithered back down his throat. He bled into the background, admiring the way your eyes rolled as the wisecracking descended upon you.

  "The hell was that, kid?" Dally said between inhaling his smoke. Rubbing the top of your head with his ringed fingers awarded him with a generous shove from you. His treatment hurt, but he was happy to see you, which was unusual.

  "Get offa me-," You grunted and he eventually relented.

  Before Steve could chime in about you being a smart ass or wandering around on your lonesome, your most dreaded member of the gang came blundering on over. A half drunken stupor holding him up by some invisible string, "Haha! Where did you learn to talk like that? Dare I say you got some inspiration from somebody in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at you.

  "Oh, well ain't those the biggest words you’ve ever said! Ugh, don’t make me sick, two cents." You bit at him.

  "Eh, at least I'm worth somethin' in this world." He chuckled, clapping your shoulder.

  "That was meant to be an insult." You retorted.

  "Really? That's a whole compliment and a half!" He exclaimed with his arms thrown up.

  "Yeah yn, I sure can hear the church bells ringin' right now!" Soda grinned at you, cupping his free hand over his ear. In fact, to seal the deal he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the seven of you began walking to your neighbourhood.

  Steve came up on the other side, walking the tight line of the curb, "From haters to lovers!" He beamed, spreading his palms out in the open space before you like he was presenting a far away picture. "It all started when you were in fifth grade and he was in sixth, gum to the hair, a pop to the mouth and the rest was history!"

  Johnny listened and observed, laughing halfheartedly along with his buddies. Something about Soda's and Steve's words tugged on his heartstrings in a plucking fashion. It was uncomfortable and didn't sit right with him. Yet he couldn't be too mopey about it, it wasn't like anybody knew his growing feelings for you. By now there was a confusion in your friendship, as if all these special moments you'd experienced together had evolved the friendship into something else. He was afraid of what that meant. Things would never be the same ever again, and he found himself eyeing up the bag full of his clothes on your shoulder and his jeans jacket wadded into your hand.

  Well, at least your promise had been genuine this time.

  If you weren't riled up before you were now. A sucker punch to the gut was minutely dodged by Steve, who hopped to safety behind Dallas like a kangaroo. Being surrounded by people you knew was nice as the mood settled somewhat. Johnny found his natural place to the left of you, keeping in time with your easy pace.

  Sodapop raised his eyebrows and asked the question everyone had been wondering, "Hey yn, what were you doing there all alone?"

  "Ain't that Steve's line?" You quipped.

  “Gettin’ to be more and more like Ponyboy everyday, yn!” Steve warned, messing up Pony’s hair for comedic relief.

  Pony was certainly not pleased, pulling his comb out of his back pocket and using the sideview mirror of a car to fix his hair in the dark. “Stupid Steve…” grumbled past his lips.

  “What was that?” Steve barked next to Soda.

  “Nothin’, said I looked stupid…” He lied with burnt cheeks and ears to match.

  "That's what I thought, little guy." Steve stared at him.

  Once the commotion had somewhat settled Dally eyed you up and spoke through his smoke, “Soda’s got a point. What were you doing there?” He noticed that bag over your shoulder and whistled, “Did your goody two shoes ass get kicked out or are you just droppin’ by to bid your farewells on us common folk before you skip town?”

  Put on the spot, you hesitated for a second, “Uh, I just came to see Johnny.”

  “With the entire mall's inventory?” Two grinned wickedly, pressing for more information. "Johnny's become quite the charity case lately." He teased, noogying Johnny playfully who shrugged him off with a small laugh.

  “Hey wait a sec, isn't that Johnny’s jeans jacket?” Pony spoke up once his precious hair had been rearranged.

  Dallas’s pesky fingers swiped the jacket in your hands with a mind of his own – and like a chimp, he examined its authentication closely. The five other members gathered around him as if he held the fifth wonder, which left you and Johnny with the liberation of simultaneously backing up at the edges of the throng. “You wanna make a break for it?” You hissed your suggestion at Johnny, who nodded his head.

  That’s when five heads whipped up with dumbfounded expressions. This was Johnny’s jacket! The one he said he’d lost. Soda’s eyes were the first to eye up that bag strapped to your shoulder, a familiar grey sweater poking out through the zipper that wouldn't close properly. “Hold on one stinkin’ minute.” Realisation hit him with a dopey grin.

  Two caught on next, his hand grasping the bag strap and pulling it from your shoulder. In the same motion he’d freed the grey sweater from the confines, only to find more clothes underneath. “Haha!” He cackled noisily, “You’re the one who’s been swiping his clothes? You sly fox!”

  “Johnny and yn sitting in a tree-,” Steve cackled, only to get cut off by Dally who smacked him in the chest.

  “What are you man, four?”

  “Four?! I’ll show you four!”

  “Oh glory-,” You mumbled, looking at Johnny, “I think I made a mistake.”

  “You think?” He hissed, his tone was somewhat biting, looking scared stiff for the incoming of terrible teasing.

  "Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!" Soda and Two started chanting, patting and shaking their pal with enthusiasm. It wasn't long before the other three started in on it too. The chant of the year belted out from strong chests on shrill wails of hyena laughter.

  "Check him out, famous ladies man! I knew you had it in ya Johnny." Dally clapped his back.

  "Should've known you were stealing my girl, Johnny." Two teased. "You can have her the first five days of the week, but I call dibs on weekends! That's when she gets extra sassy."

  "In your dreams, two shits." You barked.

  "I dream of sixth grade every night!" Two swooned, making you laugh.

  Johnny was as red as a beet, even Ponyboy couldn’t contain his laughter. 'Boy, do we have something to tell Darry!' Pony's and Soda's eyes gleamed dazzlingly.

  "Eh, guess you won't be needing this!" Dally grinned from behind you both, softly tugging on his leather jacket Johnny was wearing. In one fell swoop it was off of his shoulders and draped over Dally’s humble forearm.

  “Here you go, young sire!” Sodapop bowed with a roll of his hand, an English accent flawlessly executed.

   In came Steve on one knee, holding up the humble denim article he'd swiped from Dally's pesky digits. “Oh Johnny, with all of my love for you, will you take this humble offer?” he exclaimed dramatically.

  Johnny snatched the jacket from Steve’s gripey hands, along with the bag of his shirts you’d brought along from Two-bit. He was embarrassed, that was evident. Wished you’d done this at a different time, but hey, duty called; a promise was a promise. Scout’s honour, right?

  Without even thinking he grabbed your hand in his, reeling you away from the madness, all sassy. “Alright, that’s enough now!”

  A chorus of wolf whistles expelled into the air. Wildness evident in the five guys who'd grown up with the both of you. They were just playing of course, excited that Johnny finally had a lady in hand. It wasn't often the raven haired greaser picked someone up, let alone initiated any physical contact – romantically of course. Johnny had always been quite reserved, but here he was taking the initiative, pulling you around in the opposite direction of them. Surprisingly assertive despite him shaking like a goddamn ghost.

  You guys got maybe a few feet away when Dallas called out on the wind, “Hey yn, you better not be takin’ off the clothes on Johnny's body or he’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

  "I said that's enough!" Johnny called back, heat vivid on his cheeks.

  With that you both escaped around the next corner, the gang's calls and laughter fading into the background. Dipped into an alleyway to lose them for good. Glory knew they'd follow you both, and Johnny couldn't bear the thought of that. There was exhilaration in your chests. Johnny's hand was hot and sweaty in yours when you wound onto Pickett and Sutton. The air felt tight and you were afraid you'd just made an inconsolable mess of everything.

  “Honest to God Johnny, that wasn’t planned-,”

  He was sour, scrunching up his face, “Shoulda just let you keep these things.” He said with a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “They looked better on you anyway.”

  “Johnny Cade,” you gasped, stopping in the middle of the street, the yellow light from above illuminating you both, “was that you flirting with me?”

  Albeit clumsy, he was endearing. “Maybe, I dunno.” His cheesy grin warmed your heart.

  All you could do was gawk at him.

  “Look, all I know is that I kinda don’t mind you stealing my crap, okay?”

  “So I have special authority to steal? What is this, a secret mission for your girlfriend?” You grasped onto his arm, leaning into him.

  Girlfriend settled in the air in a peculiar fashion. It had never been uttered before, you both had just been friends up until this point. The confusion between you both seemed to fizzle away. The term sounded right. Johnny didn't want to be your friend any more, the guy on the sidelines dreaming of being with you. He swallowed thickly, looking at you.

  "I'm sorry I-," he cut you short.

  "Nah don't be." He shook his head softly.

  "So uh," you breathed a laugh, "that means we're like dating? " You tested the word on your tongue.

  He exploded with a blush, and a sense of pride swelled in your heart. "Y-yeah-," he nodded softly.

  It went quiet, but nothing was awkward about it. Two hearts galloped like wild horses through summer filled fields. You found the courage to speak first, whispering mischievously into his ear, "So what about that secret mission?"

  Johnny rolled his eyes, but breathy humour expelled from his lips, “Operation Shirt Thief!” He said in his best movie man trailer voice.

  You burst out in a fit of giggles, the walk home feeling bountiful and warm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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[blueridee]

<3

The dim kitchen lights glowed yellow. The air was chilly, even inside the dorms. I mean, what else would you expect from late November, but the thought doesn’t much help your cold fingers.

The clock reads 2:05 AM. You glance at it again, a soft laugh escaping your lips. For a second, you feel a little guilty, but the cookies are almost done, and you really couldn't help it.

Yuta turns his head to look at you with an amused smile as he raises a finger to his lips, silently mouthing, What?

You shake your head, quieting down, “Nothing; it’s pretty late, hm?”.

“Weren’t you the one who dragged us out of my dorm because you were craving cookies?”

Your eyes wander back to the kitchen counter still dusted with specks of flour and the soft glow of the oven window. 

“What? It’s almost holiday season. I’m just making sure you have enough practice,” you whisper back with a grin. He rolls his eyes but smiles at your antics, “And does this practice session come with a 2 AM deadline?” “well, my cravings do”

A faint ‘ting’ catches your attention as you both turn to the oven. You beam, “Finally, I was starting to think we’d have to wait all night.” Reaching for the oven mitts, you rush to open the lid.

“Careful,” Yuta calls out with a fond smile.

The smell hits you before you even pull the cookies out, and you close your eyes for a second, taking it all in. “Oh yeah, that smells like heaven itself,” you murmur, holding the tray up for a better look. They don’t look bad at all—maybe even better than expected.

Well, that’s as much as you can tell by sight; you’ll have to check to see if they taste just as good.

You’re about to reach for one when Yuta stops you with a light touch to your arm. “Shouldn’t we wait for them to cool down first? You’ll burn your mouth, and plus, they’ll be crispier then.”

“Ah, right,” you sigh, seating yourself on the counter. “Soo what now? Waiting is boringg”

You adjust your position as Yuta moves to stand in between your thighs, entertained by your complaints.

“Boring, huh?” His voice, a little teasing but still soft. “If you can get us to bake cookies in the middle of the night without waking up the entire dorm, I think you can wait a little while longer for them to cool.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile that tugs at your lips doesn’t go away. “It’s not the same.” Your hands reach out for his hair, fingers brushing through it lightly as you let your gaze wander over his features. The way the dim light reflects off of them makes him look especially beautiful. It's that warm, intimate atmosphere that makes everything else fade into the background—except for him.Your finger traces the edge of his jaw, and you whisper, “The light makes your eyes look pretty.”

Yuta’s smile softens, his hand gently cupping the one you have resting on his face. His voice lowers, almost to a whisper. “Pretty?” he repeats, the corners of his lips lifting. "That's good to know."

Yuta lets go of your hand, but not before pressing a soft kiss to your palm, a quiet gesture that lingers in the air between the two of you. "I’m glad you think so," he murmurs. And for a moment, nothing else seems to matter. Not the time, not the cold, not even the cookies waiting to be devoured.

The faintest creak of the floorboards interrupts your bubble, and you both freeze for a second, glancing toward the kitchen doorway. But it’s quiet again, save for the hum of the refrigerator. You both let out a breath at the same time, exchanging a glance that turns into stifled laughter.

“We’re so dead if anyone catches us,” Yuta says, still grinning.

Your laugh is barely audible, hushed as if the walls themselves might tattle—who knows, dorm walls are paper thin. You’d have to bring that up to Gojo-sensei at some point, you thought.

“Yeah, well, if they do, we can always bribe them with cookies.”

You swing your legs lazily where you’re perched on the counter, watching Yuta as he cleans up the flour-dusted workspace. His movements are calm and unhurried, the quiet wipes on the counter somehow soothing in the stillness of the night. The way his hands moved—deft and precise—even made cleaning feel like something purposeful. It struck you how at ease he looked, as though this midnight escapade was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re oddly efficient for someone who claims they were dragged into this,” you teased, the corners of your lips quirking up. Yuta glanced over his shoulder, a playful glint in his eyes. “Efficient, huh? Maybe that’s just from practicing all day.” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with amusement. “I didn’t know swordsmanship resulted in cleaning skills as well.”

Before he could reply, you hopped off the counter. The cool tiles were a sharp contrast to the warmth still lingering from the oven. Grabbing a cookie from the tray, you held it up triumphantly. “Moment of truth.”

He leaned in slightly, watching as you took the first bite. The cookie was still warm, the chocolate chips melted just enough to be gooey without falling apart. The rich sweetness flooded your senses, and you couldn’t help the hum of approval that escaped you.

“Well?” Yuta prompted, raising an eyebrow.

You chewed dramatically, drawing out the moment before grinning. “Not bad. Pretty perfect, actually.” “Actually, it’s a masterpiece,” you decided, holding out the cookie for him to try. “Here, try it yourself.”

He leaned closer, taking a bite from your hand without hesitation. His lips brushed against your fingers in the process, the brief contact sending a flutter through your chest. He pulled back, chewing thoughtfully before nodding in approval. “Yeah, not bad at all.”

“See? Totally worth dragging you out of your dorm.” “Yeah, yeah,” he said with mock exasperation, but the softness in his expression was unmistakable. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You could still taste the chocolate from the cookie.

“Don’t make it a habit, though,” he murmured, pulling back with a grin.