#marijuana fields

[cynnrr]

abandoned marijuana field

[vintage-tigre]

[the-blunt-diaries]

smokin in a field 💨

[chelsealuciferr]

Midday stroll through the fields with sushi🤍

[dcserni]

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

[cynnrr]

abandoned marijuana field

[reasonsforhope]

"Teen drug use continued to fall in 2024, extending a dramatic decline spurred by the COVID-19 pandemic that experts expected would reverse now that the acute phase of the global crisis is well over.

But, according to data released Tuesday [December 17, 2024], the number of eighth, 10th, and 12th graders who collectively abstained from the use of alcohol, marijuana, or nicotine hit a new high this year. Use of illicit drugs also fell on the whole and use of non-heroin narcotics (Vicodin, OxyContin, Percocet) hit an all-time low.

"Many experts in the field had anticipated that drug use would resurge as the pandemic receded and social distancing restrictions were lifted," Richard Miech, team lead of the Monitoring the Future survey at the University of Michigan, said in a statement. "As it turns out, the declines have not only lasted but have dropped further."

The Monitoring the Future study—which has been running for 50 years and is funded by the National Institutes of Health—surveys a nationally representative group of teens each year on their involvement with the ever-evolving drug landscape. This year, the survey collected data from over 24,000 students at more than 270 public and private schools.

The initial drop in drug use between 2020 and 2021 was among the largest ever recorded. And researchers like Miech expected the rates would bounce back, at least partially. But now, the data suggests the pandemic has started a wave of abstention that is still rippling through grade levels.

A new era

"Kids who were in eighth grade at the start of the pandemic will be graduating from high school this year, and this unique cohort has ushered in the lowest rates of substance use we’ve seen in decades," Miech noted.

For alcohol, use in the past 12 months among eighth graders was at 12.9 percent in 2024, similar to 2023 levels, which are all-time lows. For 10th graders, the rate dropped significantly from 30.6 percent in 2023 to 26.1 percent, and for 12th graders, from 45.7 percent to 41.7 percent—both record lows.

For nicotine vaping, rates fell for 10th graders (from 17.5 percent to 15.4 percent) and remained at low levels for eighth and 12th graders. For marijuana, use remained low for eighth and 10th graders and fell significantly for 12th graders (from 29 percent to 25.8 percent). All three grades are at lows not seen since 1990.

For abstainers from alcohol, marijuana, and nicotine in the prior 30 days, the rate among eighth graders hit 90 percent, up from 87 percent in 2017, when it was first measured. The rate was 80 percent among 10th graders, up from 69 percent in 2017, and 67 percent for 12th graders, up from 53 percent in 2017.

"This trend in the reduction of substance use among teenagers is unprecedented," Nora Volkow, director of NIH’s National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA), said. "We must continue to investigate factors that have contributed to this lowered risk of substance use to tailor interventions to support the continuation of this trend.""

-via Ars Technica, December 17, 2024

[kbwrites]

Up In The Clouds

synopsis: you are a first-year jujutsu high student, seemed only natural that satoru and suguru would want to protect you... right?

⚝ a/n: I'M ALIVEEE. my first fanfiction in over FIVE YEARS?!

⚝ tags: sfw/suggestive satoru x reader. suguru x reader. satosugu x reader (KINDA). marijuana use!

⚝ wc: 1412

“Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something?”

“Shut the hell up Satoru.”

“Please. What Suguru Said.”

You were given one condition by your parents when you got into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, and that was to stay out of trouble. And yet there you were, with the school’s most infamous troublemakers - high as the clouds you were observing.

 Suguru approached you on your first day, his kind eyes and dulcet voice made you feel more than welcome. Him and Satoru were joined at the hip, as you soon found out. It only took a few days for you to be fully integrated into the group. So their duo (and occasionally Shoko, when she felt like dealing with their bullshit) grew to include you. They shouldered the burden of showing you around the school. Suguru educated you with the history of the school, while Satoru listed the best places to slack off. And slack off you did, the two boys were first-grade sorcerers, why the hell would they need to attend classes?

Yaga lectured you of course, “A bright girl like you has no business hanging around with those two”. And yet, they were the strongest. And you were their new obsession, fitting right into their antics.

The antics for today? Courtesy of Satoru, the lanky second year stood before Suguru and (Y/N) dangling a ziploc bag with a blunt inside.

“Are you trying to get us expelled?” Suguru sighed.

“Seriously. If Yaga catches us-”

The white haired teen sighed dramatically (you were confident that that was the only way he knew HOW to sigh)

“You guys are no fun.” A pout forms across his lips, crossing his arms.

“Who did you even get this from?”

“Does it matter? Let’s get high~” Satoru smirks, discarding the ziploc bag and holding the blunt up to his nose to take a deep inhale.

Suguru glances over at you.

“Satoru… do you really think you’re setting the best example for our underclassmen.”

You smile awkwardly, sure he was referring to you.

“She isn’t some baby doll Suguru. Right (Y/N)?” Satoru turned his attention to you. He knew that with that honeyed voice of his, he could get anything he wanted. Suguru glared back at his slightly taller friend, who grinned through his dark shades. You shift uncomfortably, the tension thickening by the second. It was pretty common that you ended up being the one breaking up fights between your two best friends. For some reason you were always caught in the middle. You sigh standing up.

“Fuck it”

And there you three were laying on the grass of the field.

You’ve gotta hand it to Satoru.

You feel pretty amazing right now.

“Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something?”

“Shut the hell up Satoru.”

“Please. What Suguru Said.”

“Guys… seriously-”

Bzzt bzzt.

You slowly sit up, reaching for your vibrating phone.

Shoko ^-^

Where r u guys?

(Y/N)

Practice Field.

Shoko ^-^

Huh? Those two idiots are actually doing work?

(Y/N)

Satoru brought weed~

Shoko ^-^

Ahh.

(Y/N)

You comin’?

Shoko ^-^

Doing work for Yaga :(

You close your phone, laying back down between the two teens.

Suguru takes the blunt from Satoru taking a drag before passing it to you again, your fingers grazing each other, the touch lingering. A familiar heat in your chest rising.

You’d be lying through your teeth if you said that you didn’t find your two friends attractive. Satoru was confident, he knew that when he walked into a room all eyes (girls and guys) were on him. His silken white hair, and eyelashes that when fluttered he got whatever he wanted. And of course his azure blue eyes, like pools of shimmering water too deep to ever reach the bottom of. In layman’s terms; he was hot.

And Suguru? Well, his beauty was more understated. That isn’t to say he wasn’t hot.

 He was.

With his raven-black hair that cascaded in sleek waves always neatly put up. His piercing coffee-colored eyes, the subtle curve of his lips. When he told you something was going to be okay. You could actually believe him. It was his overtly calm demeanor that probably made him seem more like Satoru’s shadow… But to you? That shadow lurked in the depths of your mind, suffocating your thoughts at the worst times. Times like this.

You take a long drag from the blunt, desperately trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that plagued your head. You hold the smoke in, before letting out an exasperated sigh. You cough quietly at the sensation in your lungs, sitting up. Suguru looks over at you in concern, sitting up with you to pat gently on your back.

“Don’t overdo it, yeah?” His voice, ever the gentle caress, only works to fluster you further. 

You turn away desperately trying to hide the blush creeping onto your face. Suguru continues patting your back, reaching for a bottle of water.

“(Y/N)? Here. drink.” Your heart flutters, you snatch the drink gulping it down.

“Thanks, Suguru..” 

Satoru turns his attention from the clouds to his two friends, his eyebrow quirking up in curiosity. But he doesn’t say a word, just snatches the blunt from you and continues the rotation.

Satoru drones on, informing you of any and every thought that comes into his head. You and Suguru stay silent, letting out a ‘hmmm’ in acknowledgment every now and then. His hand brushes against yours, his touch sending shocks of electricity through your skin as he points out funny-looking clouds. The sky turns from blue to red as the sun sets over the training grounds. The three of you wearily rise to your feet, heading back to the main dorm.

“(Y/N)! Suguru and I are g’nna play some melee. You wanna cheer me on while I kick his ass?” Satoru loops his arm around your neck smirking. You look over at Suguru, you can almost make out his body tensing ever so slightly.

“Sorry. I have to study, but I’ll see you tomorrow guys!” You wave apologetically, prying yourself from Satoru’s grasp. Suguru offers you his signature smile. Satoru offers his signature pout.

 You take your leave, strutting off to your dorm. The two boys’ eyes linger on your form as it disappears down the hall.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬

Suguru focuses intensely on the tv, hitting Satoru with combos. Satoru lazily sits back effortlessly dodging and blocking, ‘those eyes of his are basically cheats’ he thinks. Satoru glances over at his dark-haired friend smirking.

“So… I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s usually how it starts” Suguru sighs, still maintaining his focus, he has 2 stocks left. His damage at 99%.

“(Y/N). She’s a cutie isn’t she~” Satoru muses before hitting him with a spin kick.

It’s just slight enough to make out, but Suguru’s body tenses, and his eye twitches. 

133% damage

“What are you getting at Satoru..” he warns

“She’s totally my type, think she’s interested?”

Suguru can’t see the mischievous look behind his friends' blacked-out shades.

“No.” 

“No you don’t think she’s interested?”

“Satoru-“

“I mean seriously? She puts on that shy act in front of us~ drives me crazy thinking about how’d easy it’d be to make her blush”

Satoru knocks him off the platform.

1 stock left.

Suguru’s teeth clench, blood coming to a boil as he mashes the buttons of the controller. Satoru is loving this. He continues

“You don’t mind if I make a move Hmm?”

That was it.

 Suguru pauses just long enough for Satoru to land a fury of kicks and punches, hitting him with a special.

WINNER JIGGLYPUFF

Satoru leans back, his arms behind his head. Relishing in his umpteenth victory against Suguru, Suguru on the other hand is seething with anger. The thought of Satoru flirting with you… touching you…

“Leave her alone Satoru.”

“Huh? What do you mean-“

“(Y/N). Is off limits.”

Satoru perks up at this, lowering his shades to look at Suguru with his piercing blue eyes.

“Off limits? Says who?”

“She’s our friend”

“Yeah? All the more reason she should date me and not some rando”

Suguru tensed again. But that didn’t stop the white-haired menace.

“She wouldn’t say yes to you anyway”

Uh oh. He’d done it now, Satoru never backs down from a challenge. Nothing is too impossible for him, and you? You’ve just become his new challenge.

“I guess we’ll just have to see about that”

And with that, the real game begun.

[imagoofygoober]

rivals to lovers with dave lizewski maybe..?? like shes super duper smart and they get paired together on a project and they start bickering because dave is kind of being a dumbass but it ends rlly sweetly!!!

OMG if I wasn't bit busy today,I would've answered you so much sooner!!! I LOVE this!!

Dave Lizewski x nerd!reader

Prompt: rivals to lovers

Warnings: cursing,reader is described to have female parts but no pronouns are actually used,Dave being a bit of a perv,mentions of drug(marijuana) use

Summary: You and Dave always hated each other,or maybe that's just what you both told yourselves.

You and Dave have hated each other since the sixth grade,both for the same reason.You both believe you're smarter than the other.

You were both pretty smart in the same fields,and always end up fighting over who has the right answer.

You also hated his big goofy grin and his stupid glasses,you hated how they made you feel,how no matter where you went he'd probably be there too,and you definitely hated his curly hair.You hated how much you wanted to run your fingers through the unruly locks.

Dave hated all the same things about you,your smile,your eyes,your hair,how he'd see you everywhere.Though,since you both started going through puberty and you started to 'fill out',he kept catching himself staring at you (more specifically your tits and ass) and he absolutely hated it.

So when you were paired for a project together in Science,both of your jaws dropped slightly as you look at each other.

You scoff as you look away,crossing your arms as you slump in your seat.

'This is fantastic.' Dave thought as he looks back up at the teacher,his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed.

_

"You two are pairing up in science?" Todd asks as the three boys into Atomic Comics.

"Yeah,I thought you two like- despised each other." Marty says with a huff of amusement as they sit at their usual booth.

"We do! That bitch Mrs. Parsons paired us up!" Dave says,his voice cracking slightly,sounding a bit like a child who didn't get his way.

You hear the familiar voices from across the comic book section and look up,a bit of a scowl forming on your face as you see Dave.You huff softly and hurridly grab the few comic you had already picked out before heading over to the cashier,paying for them quickly before leaving.

Dave had heard the door but didn't see who it was that left,so he just shrugs slightly and goes back to talking to Todd and Marty.

-

A few days later,you find yourself sitting in Daves room with him at his desk,your eyes scanning the room for a moment,taking in all of the nerdy memorabilia everywhere.

You couldn't help the small flutter in your chest at a few of the things you saw from some of your favorite movies/shows/games/comics.'What the fuck?!' you thought as you felt your cheeks heat up slight when you look at him,utterly confused as to why you were suddenly feeling this way until the blush and flutter vanishes,noticing that he got something wrong.

You point at it,shaking your head slightly. "That's wrong. A hypothesis isn't an explanation for events or facts,that's a theory.A hypothesis is an explanation based on limited facts and the base for certain investigations." You say,looking at the paper.

Dave scoffs softly as he looks at you. "No,you're wrong. You've got it flipped."

You look at him,your brow furrowed. "No,you're wrong."

After about 10 minutes of back and forth 'no you are',Dave huffs and jerks open his laptop and clicks on the search bar,his fingers moving quickly over the keyboard.

"See? I told you." you say after reading the definition google pulled up for hypothesis and theory.Dave huffs again before looking down at the paper,erasing what he had put down.

"Whatever.." he mutters softly to himself,suddenly feeling a bit flustered,his bottom lip sticking out slightly in a faint pout.

You sigh and lean back in your seat as you start looking around,the same feeling from earlier bubbling in your chest again.

_

Over the course of the next week,your hatred for each other slowly dissipates and turns into something else and everything you hated about each other slowly became something that you both secretly loved.Though,the only people that didn't seem to notice was the two of you.Even your best friend noticed,and she isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed,probably because of all the pot she smokes.

She noticed how you all of a sudden wanted to spend time with Dave after years of being openly annoyed and irritated by him,even if it was supposedly just for the project.

"Do you like- have a crush on Dave now or something?" Sarah asks,her eyes red and her voice a little dawn out as she lays on your living room sofa,the room faintly smelling of weed and smoke.

"What!? No,of course not! I just- Don't hate him as much anymore." You say,sounding like your trying to convince yourself more than you are her,your cheeks burning bright red.

Sarah looks at you with a cocked brow,clearly not believing you. "Right.." She says before relaxing into the sofa again.

Maybe you did have a small crush on Dave...

Maybe that's how you found yourself here.In Daves room,not knowing how to act around him now that you're aware of your 'little' crush on him,your cheeks dusted pink.

Dave felt the same way,awkwardly shifting in his seat as you both write things down for your project,stealing little glances at each other.

Though,Dave lets his gaze linger for a bit,letting his eyes roam over your side profile and outfit.His eyes pause though,his cheeks burning a bit more when he notices the amount of cleavage your shirt showing,a familiar stir starting in his jeans.

He snaps his gaze away from you and looks down at the paper as he subtly adjusts himself in his jeans and shifts in his seat,his brain trying to conjure anything up to make him feel less turned on.

'god,get it together man..' he thought as he leans back in his chair and runs his fingers through his hair.He looks at you again,noticing you zoning out,lost in thought.

He reaches forward and gently shakes your shoulder,making you turn your head to look at him. "Sorry.." you say as you lean back as well.

"It's alright.We should probably take a brake anyway." Dave says as he starts to put away their stuff for their project away.

You look at him confused.'He's never wanted to take a brake,why does he want to now?' you thought but you don't say anything,instead you just start putting your own stuff in your bag.

-

It's now been 20 minutes and neither of you have said a word,Daves room filled with an awkward silence,the air so thick with tension you could cut through it with a knife.Dave is holding a comic book,pretending to read it.You on the other hand are just sitting there,staring at Daves hands.

"I can't take this anymore." He says suddenly as he tosses the comic onto his desk and turns to you.

"Take wha-" you start but your words are cut off when Dave grabs you by your cheeks and smashes his lips into yours.

You stay frozen for a moment,eyes wide and cheeks red,before slowly easing into the kiss,gently placing your hands on his shoulders.You feel his glasses gently digging into your cheek and bump against your nose,but you really didn't mind.All you were thinking of was how soft his lips are and how he tasted a bit like the grape soda he had drank earlier.

Dave could taste the hint of strawberry on your lips from your soda he bought you earlier and it took everything in him to keep himself from just shoving his tongue down your throat.Instead,he keeps the kiss going a few seconds longer before slowly pulling away.Your lips chase his slightly before you pull away as well,opening your eyes to look at him.

His glasses were slightly askew and his cheeks were dusted pink,making your lips turn up a bit as you reach up and adjust his glasses,which had visibly caught him by surprise.He had expected you to hit him or at least yell at him,but instead you were fixing his glasses and smiling at him,which in turn made his cheeks burn brighter and that grin that you've grown to love curve his lips.

"I wanna take you out on a date tomorrow..Is that okay?" he asks,smiling more as he watches you nod before kissing you again.

-

[fushiguruuzzzz]

xii ⊹ ࣪ ˖  Let It Happen 

Series mlist 

Tags — I yapped this chap ngl, man hate 🗣️, mentions of marijuana/smoking, cursing, kys jokes, fat jokes 

Words — 2.4k (ZOO WEE MAMA) 

The drive to Toge, Yuta, and Panda’s place was blissful. The sun was just beginning to lower in the sky, moving further west with every passing moment, every screamed lyric of the Tame Impala songs you’d put on shuffle. Even Maki, who had responded to your initial enthusiasm with an eye roll and a shake of the head, had mouthed along with what you swore was a smile. She wasn’t so dry when you were free of the boys, you’d noticed. The constant talk of either food or obscure indie games could get old, especially for someone like her. 

Nobara leaned forward from the back seat, swaying both you and Maki to the rhythm of the song. She almost made you swerve the car into incoming traffic, but it didn’t seem to bother her. It did bother Maki, though, who sat up straight and whipped around to look at her. “What the fuck? You just almost killed us!”

“I was doing fine without you, ‘til I saw your face, now I can’t erase!” Nobara sang, completely ignoring the half panicked shouts of the girl in the passenger seat. Her orange hair shifted with every bob of her head, brushing over her shoulder. The grin on her face spoke of girlhood so strongly that you couldn’t help but mirror it, a sort of euphoria radiating from the vehicle as the wind blew through your hair, the vibrations of the radio shaking against your hands as they gripped the steering wheel. 

You rounded a corner, the two story building that was just a tone off of white coming into view. It was decently nice, they were able to afford it thanks to Panda’s lucky position as the dean’s son and the wealth of the Inumaki family. Of course Yuta paid his fair share–he had a job at the bookstore down the street– but it was likely they’d have gone for a more affordable option had it not been for the other boys riches. If you’d been going there directly from campus, the three of you probably would have walked, but thanks to your little shopping trip you had triple the distance, half the gas, and moths flying out of your wallet every time you opened it. 

“Do you think if we tried to invade their apartment and kick them out they’d leave?” Nobara asked, sighing dramatically as she realized how near the end of girl time actually was. “We are not seizing their place, Nobara,” Maki rolled her eyes, glancing to the back seat. You had to resist a laugh. Maki was rather blunt, you’d like to say at times, but that was just her constant. 

“Why not? I love seeing women in male dominated fields.” 

You giggled, pulling into the parking lot. The car came to a stop, the brick structure standing tall above you as you reached for your shopping bags, grinning at the two women who were also preparing to get out. “I think Maki is just itching to be around Yuta,” you grinned, only to be swiftly struck in the side of the head. You yelped, pressing a hand to your temple and wincing. “Yep. Sorry,” you said, teeth gritted as you stepped onto the grey asphalt of the ground and standing to your full height. The three of you made your way towards the door, bags noisily brushing against eachother with every step you took. 

It was only a few short minutes before you were pushing past the door of their apartment, slipping off your shoes and making your way towards the living room. You were met with the sight of the three boys living in the unit, as well as Yuji sprawled out over the expanse of the couch, and a bored looking Megumi standing on the sidelines. You retrieved two heaps of pink fabric from a paper bag hanging from your elbow, promptly tossing them at the faces of Toge and Yuji, both getting their attention and delivering the clothing articles they’d been so desperate to receive. Yuta, on the other hand, was gifted his own by an oddly gentle Maki. It took Toge no time to recognize the fabric, a grin spreading across his face. 

“Aw, [name], you really do love me!” he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. 

“Don’t push it,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. The shopping bags dropped at your feet, following the other girls actions. 

“A win is a win,” Yuji said. Inumaki pumped his hand over his head, laughing. “Huzzah!” 

Soon enough the eight of you were scattered around the living room, matching pyjama pants adorning your legs (save for Megumi and Panda) as you played a game of Uno. You were lying on your side, propped up on your elbow and holding your own hand of cards. Deeming your friends behaviour more entertaining than the game itself, you’d made some mental notes. 

Nobara had leapt across the room to tackle someone twice, and by the looks of it, the next person who placed a +4 card was next. Speaking of which, Toge seemed determined to induce this, somehow blessed with every card in the deck that would inconvenience her in the slightest. 

“[name]! Hello?” Panda waved a hand (paw?) rapidly in front of your face, followed by a gentle nudge from Megumi beside you, and a nod toward the stack of cards in the middle of the little circle you’d formed. You blinked, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you nodded. 

���Sorry, zoned out,” you said, laughing breathily as you glanced down at the collection of cards in your grasp. 

Yuta glanced down at you, then at Maki and Nobara. “Were you guys smoking again?” 

The three of you whipped your heads around to look at him. The crease between Nobara’s brows was deep, and Maki was clearly refraining from smacking a hand over his mouth, silencing him herself. It was hard not to laugh, but the blunt statement made by your raven haired friend left you more surprised than anything. 

“Again?! What do you mean again?!” 

“[name], I never thought you’d be such a bad influence,” came a gruff voice from beside you, a hint of playful tease lying beneath his tone. You grinned in return, your free hand coming up to weakly shove him. For a split second, the solid structure of his shoulder was beneath your palm, unmoving and strong. It was but a fleeting moment, though, the feeling soon gone as well as the sight of the smirk pulling at his lips. Though, as you looked away, two things lingered. The first was that dopey grin lying on your lips, the second was his eyes over the expanse of your face, trained on you for just a moment too long. And in that beat, that one split second, everybody in the room seemed to come to a realization. Everybody except you, that is. 

“You guys all suck. I zone out once and you assume we’re all zooted? How terrible do you think we are?” you asked, voice just a hint softer than it usually was. 

“Well…” 

“Toge, shut up.” 

Two wrestling matches and an undetermined amount of lingering gazes later, Nobara had a revelation. 

“Oh! Oh! I almost forgot!” she said, shooting up. The game of Uno was long forgotten, one can only handle so much insignificant rage before they give up. A devious smile crossed her face as she met your eye, and it was as if she was preparing to take candy from a baby. “Makeup,” she said, one simple word, but it was enough. Enough to send an image of shared messages appear in your mind. Enough to make you match her demeanour, much to the confusion of everyone else. 

Little by little, they remembered. Toge and Yuji practically shook and jittered with anticipation, Yuta sat quietly with a gentle blush on his face, just observing, and then there was Megumi. He looked as if he was overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He glanced at you, then Panda, then you, and back to Panda once again. He shook his head. “No.”

Panda took a tentative step towards him, only making the poor spiky haired boy appear all the more avoidant. “Get away from me,” he grumbled, though no actual heat lied beneath his words. In the weeks you’d grown closer, you’d been able to see the layers of Megumi Fushiguro, see what lied beneath. 

He was polite, but had a reflective sort of aura about him that made him seem as if he was in his own world. He was stoic, somewhat a grump, even, but every once in a while that concealed softness would flicker in his eyes and reveal that maybe he wasn’t so cold. Reserved was a better word for him, because Megumi wasn’t mean. He was annoyed, sure, but he was never mean. Well… at least never to you. Your Megumi gave you jackets when you were cold and grabbed you books from the top shelf, he walked you to class and talked to you about his favourite novels. Your Megumi sat with you at your favourite coffee shop and looked at you when you talked, shared soft, cozy moments with you that had a sort of intimacy in them that no physical connection could challenge. Your Megumi’s face pinkened slightly every time you said something nice about him, though he always blamed it on the cold. Your Megumi was kind and warm and familiar. That’s what made it all the more amusing, seeing him scramble away from Panda like he was infected with rabies or something. 

A series of begs and whines echoed throughout the room, all met with cold glares or annoyed groans. “Absolutely not. Back off,” he said, crossing his arms as he inched away from Panda. 

“Please, Megumi,” you asked, voice pleading in an ironic sort of way. Something in his eyes flickered, shifted, his body stilling as he made eye contact with you. A moment of silence passed, and with an annoyed sigh, his arms fell to his sides. 

“Fine.” 

“Yes!” you celebrated, already grabbing your supplies. Pairs were made. Nobara would go with Yuji, You with Megumi, Yuta with Maki, and… Inumaki with Panda…? 

You chose to ignore the odd imbalance in gender, happily prancing over to Megumi and settling beside him. The plastic and glass of your products clanged gently against eachother as you set them down, smiling in anticipation as you turned to the boy next to you. He looked somewhat defeated, shoulder slumping as he avoided your eyes. 

You moved closer to clip his hair up, and his breath hitched. You could’ve sworn that the skin of his cheeks, currently resting beneath your fingertips, had heated up. Was he always that warm? 

No, he wasn’t. But Megumi was desperate to conceal that, to conceal that he didn’t actually hate this. He didn’t hate the idea of being “pretty,” as you’d say, no, he didn’t actually mind that at all. What he did mind was the odd fluttering in his chest as you shifted closer, as you cradled his face and narrowed your eyes in concentration as the brush swept across his cheekbone. He had grown used to that feeling in recent weeks, he had to adapt to live with it, or it would plague him. You would plague him. That didn’t mean that it had become a welcome feeling, though. He tried to keep it settled, keep it at a low simmer in the cavities of his heart, but that was proving to be difficult as your breaths mingled and he can’t tell if he’s hallucinating, or if you just looked at his lips. No, he was being silly. Letting his thoughts run wild. That was ridiculous, right? You wouldn’t see him that way, let alone allow it to show in a moment like this. You wouldn’t- 

“Done!” you said, abruptly pulling away from him to get a full view of your masterpiece. You smiled proudly, and he was sure his heart stopped. He could feel the light weight of the makeup against his skin, and he suddenly felt undeniably silly. What was he doing, allowing you to doll him up like this? If it had been anyone else, he’d have told them to fuck off and went back to his own activities, but it was you. So he sat still like an obedient dog and waited for you to be done with him, barely able to look at your face out of fear he’d lunge forwards and do something he’d regret. 

“Mm. Let me see,” he said, looking at you for what felt like the first time in the past twenty minutes. “Or do I even want to?” 

“Of course you do. You look pretty,” you laughed, pulling out your phone, presumably to use the camera as a makeshift mirror. Suddenly he was grateful for the pink powder you’d dusted on his skin earlier, or else you’d have caught the way the skin beneath began to match the rosey pigment.  

You turned it towards him, allowing him to see himself. He looked mildly shocked for a moment before letting out a low hum, whether it was one of dismissal or contentment, you were unsure. You snuck a second hand to the screen, and a click met your ears as you snapped a picture. 

You giggled wildly as you snatched the phone back before he could get his hands on it, and he nearly lunged for you. Nearly. 

He was going to, he truly was! But when you pulled up the picture and admired your sneakiness, your eyes twinkled. They shined with a content joy that he wanted to bring from you again and again. He figured that if he could make you shine like that, maybe one little picture wasn’t so bad. It was just one photo, one that you’d likely forget about and let sit in the depths of your phone until you inevitable got a new one. So he let you have your picture and your laugh and didn’t protest as the other boys pranced around in their full faces, because it was just one thing. Just one thing, and it was making you and the others happy. He could deal with that. 

Little did he know, this was merely the start. 

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @rreveurdoll @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes @walllflowerrrsss @sh0ot1ngst4r @blubearxy @tvnamayo

ouh we’ve officially reached the down bad stage. I’ve been updated so often recently (TWO IN A ROW ‼️) do yall fw that be honest proud of myself lwk. Next step is proofreading (im never gonna do ts) im half asleep writing this. Again. So thankful for autocorrect rn yall don’t know how many words I’ve misspelt in this authors note I want him I fear. Also lwk guys Toge… I need to stfu sorry

Expect updates every 2 days (give or take) at 8am or 4pm EST

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 66

part 1 | part 65 | ao3

cw: i don’t do drugs, dad, it’s only marijuana

“Uh,” Steve splutters, choking on his own spit. “Is that wise?”

It’s a question Eddie gives zero fucks about, apparently, because he’s already lighting a joint — cherry bright, shadows sharp, chin held aloft as he hollows his cheeks. “Extremely,” he croaks, blowing smoke out in a thick ring.

Steve’s mouth flattens to a frown. “Literally how?” he begs to know. “I thought we were supposed to be, like, fortifying our defenses. Building our mind shields or whatever the fuck.”

“Au contraire, mon frère.” Eddie takes a hit and holds it. “We are fighting a psychic wizard. Therefore…” Another toke, another trail of perfect smoke rings, ducklings lined up big to small. “It stands to reason that we should trash his battlefield.”

It stands to reason we should what?

“…Ohhhhhh,” Steve nods when he gets it. He reaches up to take the joint, tipping his chin in thanks when Eddie slots it into the V of his fingers, and squints as he sips in a quick puff; adds a French inhale at the end of a second huge hit. Eddie’s not the only one who knows how to do cool tricks. “So this is like the time we let a bunch of cows loose on Thompson’s field the night before the homecoming game.”

“Yeah, exactly— well- well, no, actually, not like that, what in the Indiana bumpkin fuck—? Never mind.” Eddie tosses his hair and rocks on his heels, and Steve can’t help but snort as he watches him shake himself clear like a little Eddie Etch-A-Sketch. “Important things only,” Eddie mumbles to himself. “Essentials,” he’s saying, “Essentials. What are essentials?”

And meanwhile Steve is saying: “Eddie-A-Sketch.”

Eddie hollers a startled cackle as he whips his head around, his face all squiggly with confusion, brows pinched, nostrils flared. “Steve, what the hell?”

Steve giggles uncontrollably. “Etch-A-Skeddie? No—”

“Holy shit.” He scrubs his hands down his face and laughs weakly at the ceiling. “How much weed did you just smoke?”

From anyone else it would sound like scolding, but Eddie just pulls out a few more joints, sticks three in his mouth at once, and mumbles good-naturedly, “Lemme catch up, I guess. Christ.”

While Eddie smokes enough weed to briefly hotbox a room with a hole in the floor, Steve watches the water ripple, spellbound by shimmering shapes in the dark for what feels like decades until he remembers all at once that it fucking sucks in here. It’s cold, and he’s starving, and his back is kinda stiff. “Hey…”

He looks over his shoulder, rolling into the stretch. Eddie’s doing some weird noodly shit in a corner, bent at the waist with his arms pretzeled overhead, swinging side to side, the ends of his hair sweeping the dusty, splintered planks. “Hey! Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“Weren’t we supposed to be finding supplies?”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie swings himself upright; starts pacing back and forth. “Shit, yeah. What did we need?”

“Besides food and water?”

“Booze!” He steps onto a pile of boxes just to hop back down again. “Booze, music, more drugs…”

More drugs. Great idea.

Steve plucks the stubby remnant of a joint up off the floor; Eddie spins around on tiptoe to peer out the boathouse window, and when he looks back at Steve he’s got a Cheshire cat grin. “Say, Steve-o. Stevie boy. Svennie—”

“I’ll kill you,” Steve coughs around a mouthful of smoke.

“Since I’m pretty sure we’re one hundred percent going to jail for, uh. All of this…” He waves his arms around at their whole situation, then gestures invitingly to the house at the top of the hill. “Whaddaya say we add breaking and entering to the list?”

—

part 67

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[24hlevi]

— the bet

natalie scatorccio (yellowjackets) x gn!reader

genre: fluff

summary: being enemies with nat was eventful, to say the least. until a bet is made that you'll fall for nat by the time states come around. will that happen? or will you two remain enemies?

warnings: language, light nsfw, drug usage (marijuana)

wc: 3.5 k

my first yjs fic please don't kill me i lowkey hate this but here we go

natalie scatorccio was the type of girl you never imagined yourself to even speak to. not because she was a “burnout”, or because she was drunk or high the majority of the time, but because of the way you two were polar opposites. she was on the soccer team, she had a rough home life, and spent most of her time with the other delinquents on campus, while you were in the newspaper club usually taking pictures of the sports teams, had a decent family life, and spent all your time with school.

and for some reason, since the first meeting, you two had a strong disliking for each other.

maybe it was the way she always taunted you with that damn smirk on her face, or how she would sometimes blow her cigarette smoke in your direction just to get you irritated. you didn't know why, but you hated her. in the beginning, at least.

you were friends with the other girls on the team, which meant wherever they went, nat was there too. so you unfortunately were forced to deal with her annoying antics towards you. the girls noticed fairly quickly how much you two hated each other, and decided to do something about it.

…

“shauna i don't understand why i need to be here when it's for your team,” you said to your friend. you were currently in her car while she drove you to jackie’s house where the team was going to have a “bonding” exercise. for some reason, shauna insisted that you come with. you had no idea why, but were forcefully dragged into her car so you were stuck with going.

“because you're our friend too,” shauna replied, keeping it short with her eyes on the road.

“i know that but,” you let out a huff of annoyance. “i don't wanna see her.” you mumbled.

shauna glanced over at you for a split second before back at the road. “i honestly doubt she'll be there, it’d be a rare sight to see her in such an environment like jackie’s house,” she said in response. obviously she knew who you were talking about, it was incredibly clear when that scowl would form on your face just thinking about having to deal with nat again. which is exactly why she was doing this. well, the whole team. even jackie was for the idea, as long as it meant nat wouldn't be distracted on the field anymore. so, it was the whole team setting up you and nat.

you arrived at jackie’s house a few minutes later, seeing the other cars outside telling you that the others were already there, and you could feel yourself already getting irritated at the thought of having to communicate with nat.

“come on y/n, don't pout like a puppy,” shauna chuckled lightly as the two of you walked inside the giant house.

“i’m not pouting,” you grumbled.

“y/n!” jackie exclaimed, running towards the two of you. “i’m so glad you made it!” she smiled widely at you.

“it’s no problem,” you smiled back. “i wasn't doing anything tonight anyway, my parents are out of town.”

“perfect!” jackie clasped her hands together. “follow me and we will start!”

you followed behind jackie besides shauna, noticing the quick glance they gave each other but choosing to ignore it seeing as they always had those weird glances with each other. the three of you made it to the living room where the rest of the team was sitting on the couches and chairs. your eyes immediately landed on the one girl you didn't want to see, and a scowl formed on your face before looking away.

she was wearing that same leather jacket she always seemed to wear outside of practice, and you found yourself taking another glance at her only for her to already be looking at you, making you quickly avert your gaze.

“all right! now that everyone is here,” jackie stood in front of everyone. “i think we all know why we are here, and it's not for a team bonding exercise, sorry!”

your expression turned into confusion, and apparently you were the only one confused, until you saw nat with the same look on her face.

oh no. no. you thought to yourself. there's no way. if this was some sort of thing to make you and nat be friends you were going to kill shauna for forcing you into her car.

“so, there's been something we’ve noticed as a team dealing with one of us being…distracted, during practice and games,” jackie started, trying to look at everyone but continuously going between nat and you. “so, we need to fix that! nat, will you please stand?”

with a confused look still on her face, nat stood from her spot in the recliner. “what the hell is going on here, jackie?” she asked with a sigh.

“you’ll see,” van chuckled but quickly went quiet after tai sent her a glare.

“now y/n, please stand,” jackie said to you.

you rose from the couch and looked at jackie trying your best to ignore nat.

“come here, both of you,” jackie waved her hands gesturing for the two of you to come closer.

you slowly took a few steps forward, watching as nat stepped closer as well, until you both were standing in front of each other with jackie in between.

“jackie, i really don't understand what-”

suddenly you were cut off by being grabbed by the wrist by jackie who grabbed onto nat as well.

“follow me!” jackie said to you two before dragging you both behind her.

you opened your mouth to protest but caught a glance of the other girls’ faces and realized this is the “bonding exercise”. it wasn't supposed to be for the team. it was supposed to be for you and nat. you let jackie drag you down the long hallway, not listening to nat trying to pull out of jackie’s surprisingly strong grip before jackie opened a door to a guest room, pushing you two inside.

“you two are staying in here for an hour and you will become friends,” jackie told you both.

“what?!” you exclaimed. “that's what you brought me here for?!”

“you’ll be fine, y/n!” shauna said behind jackie, peeking her head over the other girl’s shoulder.

“jackie, i swear to-” you took a step forward and jackie immediately closed the door in your face, and you heard a click from the door. you tried to open the door, only for it now to be locked. “jackie!” you called, smacking your hand on the door. “jackie, i will kill you!”

“you’ll love me for this!” she said through the door. “it's just one hour!”

footsteps were heard leaving the area and you let out a long sigh. you turned around to see nat with her arms crossed over her chest, and you let out an annoyed huff.

“did you know about this?” you asked.

“of course not,” nat shook her head. “i didn't wanna be here in the first place,” she mumbled afterwards.

“well, that makes two of us,” you replied.

the room was filled with silence after that, and after a few minutes you felt like you were going to go insane. you glanced around at the bland room before your eyes landed on nat again, who was staring at you.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” you asked her finally.

“what?” she questioned, looking at you confused.

“you're always staring at me,” you said. “and you taunt me constantly, always blowing smoke in my face, or so close that i can practically taste the alcohol in your breath.”

“tsh,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “i do that with everyone.”

“bullshit,” you snapped. “you don't do it to your teammates and you don't do it to those two drunkards you hang around.”

“and?” she said.

“and?” you repeated, getting angrier at every response she was giving. “so what the fuck is your problem with me? is it because i don't take pictures of you on the field or something?”

“oh fuck you,” nat spat. “i don't need pictures taken of me.”

“you wish,” you replied with just as much venom in your voice.

“maybe i do, since you think everyone has some massive fucking crush on you or something,” nat took an angry step towards you.

“me?” you half-laughed, also taking a step forward. “don't you suck dick for some weed and booze?”

“at least i know who i am,” nat glared at you.

“you don't,” you retorted. “you don't have a goddamn clue who you are or what you want.”

“you don't know a fucking thing about me,” nat pointed her finger at you. “i’m at least not a fucking coward who can't admit what they feel.”

“oh you feel things?” you feigned shock. “what a surprise, natalie scatorccio feels things! like what exactly?”

“that i fucking hate you,” she told you and took another step closer.

“i hate you,” you said in response.

you two stared at each other for a few seconds, then suddenly nat took one more step and smashed her lips on yours. your shock went by in a mere second, and you quickly kissed back with just as much passion. her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to her as your hands found their way to her hair.

when you both pulled away to breathe, you wanted to smack that damn smirk off her face.

“i knew you had a thing for me,” nat said teasingly.

“i do not,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “i have zero feelings for you.”

“i bet i can change that,” she challenged.

one of your eyebrows raised at that. “oh really? are you challenging me?”

“uh-huh,” she nodded. “i’ll bet you that by the time states come around, you'll have fallen for me.”

“and what are we betting exactly?” you asked.

“weed and booze?”’ nat flashed a cocky smile at you.

“i suppose, only since i can easily get some,” you nodded.

“easily? shit, i guess i should've done this sooner,” nat let out a chuckle.

“you wish,” you replied with an eye roll.

“oh, i do,” she whispered and leaned in to kiss you again.

that was how the bet started. you didn't think she was serious until the monday back to school and she found you during lunch period. now instead of the annoying antics, it was a whole new type of annoying behavior with her trying to convince you to smoke just one joint with her, maybe something crazier if she has it, and the flirting that she was now constantly doing.

one day, you decided to take the joint just to please her and shut her up.

you invited her over to your house, knowing she wouldn't want you at her place, and while it took a bit of convincing to get her there, it all worked out in the end.

the two of you were sitting on your bed, a random movie playing on your television you got for your birthday while nat was about to light the joint in her hand. you took your parents ashtray from their room for nat to use, and as soon as she lit it, you weren't paying attention to the movie anymore.

she immediately noticed your stare not leaving her as she took the first drag of the joint, turning her head to the side to blow the smoke out and avoid your face. then she came up with a bright idea.

“you wanna try?”

“what?” you asked, confused.

“just take one small hit from it, you’ll live,” nat said, handing the joint towards you.

with a minute of hesitation, you reached for the joint and held it up to your lips, inhaling the smoke and feeling it invade your lungs as you coughed and blew the smoke out.

“see? you're okay,” nat flashed a small smile at you, taking the joint back from you. “come here,” she said, waving her unoccupied hand.

you moved closer to her, and watched as she inhaled the smoke and held it in for a few seconds. she then held your face in her hands and leaned in, kissing you deeply while blowing the smoke into your mouth at the same time. your hands grasped her hoodie as you felt the smoke trail into your mouth, your eyes closing at the feeling of nat’s lips on yours.

when nat pulled away and looked at you, the way you opened your eyes and gazed back at her made her want to just kiss you over and over again. so with another drag of the joint, the process repeated until the whole joint was gone and nat was between your thighs making you feel things you had never felt before.

she never let you live that one down. proceeding to then ask over and over again if you’ll smoke with her again even if nothing happens, she just can't keep her hands to herself when she's high around you. she loves the way your warm skin feels against her cold hands, she loves gripping your waist to tug you closer to her, and god does she love the way you taste on her tongue with her hands clamped on your legs keeping them open. she couldn't get enough of you.

and you found yourself falling for her, just like you said you wouldn't. in the beginning it was easy to deal with her annoying behavior towards you, but over time you enjoyed it more, because you realized she was being genuine with you.

the night you realized you had indeed fallen for nat was when she came to you after a long day of arguing with her mom’s new boyfriend, drenched in the rain from walking the whole way.

“nat? it's like, midnight,” you said when you opened your front door to see the blonde standing there.

she looked like a puppy that had just gotten kicked out of their house, looking at you with sad eyes, her makeup trailing down her cheeks.

“come in,” you grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

she was silent the whole way to your bedroom, even when you handed her a spare pair of her clothes she “accidentally” left the last time she was at your house. you let her take a shower as you stared at your tv, now completely awake and likely not going to get back to sleep until the early morning. when nat walked back into your bedroom, you waved your hand to gesture for her to come to you.

she stood in front of you as you sat on the bed, swiveling around to face her. your arms wrapped around her, gently pulling her closer to you as you peered up at her.

“you can always come here if you need anything, okay? i don't want you to have nowhere to go,” you told her in a soft voice.

“thank you,” she finally spoke quietly.

you nodded your head. “c’mon, you can sleep here tonight.” you tugged on the hem of her shirt.

“are you sure?” she asked.

“mhm,” you nodded again.

you scooted over so she could get in next to you and she slowly got in the bed, laying next to you awkwardly.

“are you okay?” you asked.

a head shake was the response you got.

“do you wanna talk about it?” was your next question.

another head shake in response.

“okay,” you nodded your head. “you don't have to.”

nat rolled over onto her side to face you, and you couldn't help but stare at her beautiful bare face without any makeup on. she could feel your gaze on her, and it made a red hue form on her face.

“why’re you staring at me?” she whispered.

“because you're beautiful like this,” you answered back in a whisper.

“you don't mean that,” she shook her head.

“i do,” you replied. “call me crazy but i like this version of you too.”

“mm,” she hummed, her eyes avoiding yours. “you don't think i’m some kind of burnout that's a burden to you?”

“never,” you shook your head. you carefully reached one of your hands to touch her cheek. “you will never be a burden to me, nat. i can promise you that. if you have nowhere to go, then i’ll be here. if you have no one else to rely on, i’ll be here. okay?”

“okay,” she said quietly.

you flashed a small smile at her before slowly wrapping your arms around her and pulling her closer to you. she quickly relaxed into your touch, resting her head on your chest with her own arms gripping you tightly as if she was worried you would disappear suddenly.

there was a nice, calm silence that filled the room now, and nat was close to falling asleep when she heard you whisper something quietly that made her feel something she hadn't felt before.

“i love you.”

she thought it was a dream when she woke up the next morning, not believing that those were the words you spoke to her thinking she was asleep.

nat woke up first due to the sun peeking through your curtains, making her groan quietly and open her eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light. she glanced at you beside her still asleep and realized your arms remained around her through the whole night, making a warm feeling radiate through her body. she rested her head on the pillow again and silently stared at you while you slept.

she was thinking about what you had said before she fell asleep. she was unsure if she was just imagining it or if you actually said it. she didn't know if she should question it, not wanting to ruin the closest thing she had to someone who genuinely loved her. but, she wanted to ask so badly at the same time. she wanted, no, needed to know if you were being serious. it would tear her apart if you were lying or just saying it to make her feel better. nat shook her head at the thought of you lying about it. surely, you wouldn't lie about something like this.

“are you gonna stay staring at me or is a good morning too much for you?” you groggily asked nat, opening your eyes slowly.

nat’s face immediately turned bright red at your words, and she quickly averted her gaze. “sorry,” she mumbled quietly.

“chill, i’m just playing,” you giggled. “did you sleep?”

“yeah,” nat nodded. “thanks for letting me stay.”

“of course,” you smiled at her.

silence filled the room after you responded. nat kept giving short glances to you and quickly looking back away and back down at the bed. it was obvious that she was thinking about something, so you decided to question it.

“what’re you thinking about?”

she immediately shook her head slightly. “nothing.”

“i can tell it's something,” you moved closer to her, carefully pushing some of her hair out of her face. “what is it?”

nat avoided your eyes, looking down. “did you mean what you said last night?” she asked in a small voice.

you stared in silent shock for a few seconds, not knowing that she had heard you. “you…heard that?” you said slowly.

all nat did was nod as a response, still not looking at you. you didn't know what to do, either. this was definitely not the way you wanted it to come out, but it looks like you were going to have to work with it.

“i meant it,” you said suddenly, making nat now look at you. “i thought you were asleep which is why i said it but, i meant it. i love you, nat.”

she gazed back at you with slightly widened eyes, trying to process what you said and when she did, she felt her heart beating incredibly fast. “i love you too,” she whispered.

a smile quickly grew on your face and you cupped nat’s face in your hands, leaning in and kissing her. you could feel nat smile into the kiss, and when you pulled away, your smile grew bigger seeing the same one on her face.

“so, does this mean i win the bet?” nat questioned in a teasing tone.

“yes, you won the bet,” you laughed lightly. “i’ll get the stuff tomorrow.”

“wait, you were serious about getting it easily?” nat asked, now serious.

“yeah, my cousin gives me cheap prices,” you nodded, saying it nonchalantly.

“holy shit i think i just fell more in love with you,” nat grinned at you, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheeks. “are your parents gonna be home this weekend?”

“nope,” you answered with a smile. “so i’ll stash it all until you get here.”

“god, you're amazing,” nat responded, now starting to kiss all over your face. “we’ll have such a fun time.”

“you just want me to smoke with you again.”

“oh yeah, a hundred percent.”