#my mom is also making one in shades of blue

[stagefoureddiediaz]

So I am feeling insane about all the yellow and blue around Eddie in El Paso and so I am making it everyone else’s problem by writing a meta on the stills - it will be a bit of speculation based on my colour theory knowledge and the previous costuming of the show, but I always enjoy writing these and then seeing how close I was when we have full context - so I hope you all enjoy! Also - I got carried away and went on a deep dive so this is ridiculously long!! 😬

Firstly though we need to talk about his hair and the return to the helmet hair of yesteryear Eddie - the loss of the floppy floopy bit that broke free as Eddie danced around his living room and was front and centre as Eddie turned to look back at buck - gone - swept up into place with gel - this is El Paso Eddie - the army Eddie - the Eddie at war - protecting his head with a helmet in the form of his hair. It’s all about reverting Eddie and about protection and conformity and trying to fit his parents expectations. This is Eddie under siege and preparing to be under the same attack as before. Its not quite as rigid as we saw it in the begins scenes, there is still some softness to it - giving us a hint that Eddie is not that same person he was back then, and that he’s not got things quite as fixed down as he had before, but we likely won’t see a hair fall over his forehead unless he’s in a less fraught scene (video call with Buck maybe) or until he has dealt with Shannon’s ghost, Chris’s trauma, his own trauma and his parents (mom) fully. Only then can he be his true self and let his hair be free!

I obviously am screaming about the fact we have Eddie in a yellow toned shirt - it’s yellow ochre, brown and cream check and it’s being very loud! The check pattern is very clearly telling us that things are not going to to go well for Eddie in this scene - and in El Paso more widely based on the fact we see him in check pattern more than once in the stills - the blue check shirt also playing into the theme of change and that change not being easy. Check on out mains is usually ultimately a good thing - it’s about getting them off the path they are on and onto a new one - correcting a wrong course etc. So here to have Eddie in check and yellow (or blue) check at that is pretty much telling me that this is the show getting Eddie on the right path - that he’s been on the wrong one but now he is on the right one for him.

I’ve written extensively about how yellow and blue coding has been used by film and television since colour film and tv has been a thing - and how it became a thing due to the wizard of Oz - I’ve also written extensively about that film and 911 and about Eddie and the significance of yellow and him and also about the importance of Buck and blue - all these metas can be found linked on my pinned post if you want to give them a read!

But what is the colour meaning of yellow I hear you cry - well it has many meanings and it all depends on the shade of yellow we’re talking about - the shade and tone of any colour determines some of its meaning. Every colour can be warm or cool toned and can be bright or dull, rich or pale and all of those factors have connotations attached to them. The warmer brighter and or richer the colour the more positive meaning it tends to have (there are some exceptions such as a very bright green which is generally viewed as toxic or poisonous and has negative connotations attached to it despite sitting in the bright rich and warm toned spectrum!)

Yellow is a colour of communication, cheerfulness, it is connected to the logical part of the brain and is therefore a symbol of intellect, clarity, and perception. However it can also mean anxiety, sickness, fear and cowardice as well as impulsiveness and caution.

The scene in the Diaz kitchen is full of yellow - its everywhere and the lighting is yellow toned (at the cooler end of the yellow lighting spectrum) but the biggest thing is the walls being this pale yellow. Paler more pastel yellows are associated with the negative traits of yellow more than the positive ones - so malaise and sickness, anxiety, and cowardice. The fact the room is yellow and blue is one of the most interesting things to me as someone who was going on about the fact the kitchen was yellow and red back in season 5 when Eddie had that conversation with his dad.

As you can see in the two pictures below, the walls were a darker more ochre toned yellow with both a darker brown toned red (the cabinets) and a brighter red (the curtains). This is a real contrast to the paler yellow and the blue we now have in the Diaz kitchen and it all goes to prove that Both Ramon and Helena are meant to represent aspects of Eddie - Ramon Eddies heart and Helena Eddies head or mind.

Because Ramon is a physical representation of Eddie heart - so the red accents make complete sense for that scene. It’s a play on the heart - and the use of two different shades of red - one concentrated around Ramon and one around Eddie is all about playing on the concept of health v not healthy (we actually see the same thing in the previous scene in this kitchen - when Eddie arrives - Ramon is in front of the darker rend and the lighting is darker while Eddie is more brightly lit and the brighter red is around him) The darker more brownish toned red is around Ramon - a symbol of poor health - of deoxygenated blood - which has a browner colouring and its also the colour of drying blood. This is a play on time - missing out on things and on Ramon representing the old way of thinking for Eddie - basically a symbol that his upbringing was not a healthy one.

Whilst all the red around Eddie is much brighter and vibrant - blood full of oxygen is brighter red and where the brown toned red is symbolically closer to death the brighter red is more energetic and suggestive of life. The set design is literally playing on the theming around hearts and heart health that we saw connected to Eddie all season. It is helping to tell us that Eddies way is the right way for the future, especially as it is combined with the green foliage print on that red background - green being a symbol of growth, while the yellow walls are more positive toned because it is a richer brighter colour - indeed it actually is pretty much the same shade of yellow as Eddies yellow shirt - the one from the lasagne scene and the confessional scene (both of which come later - but that makes them all the more interesting!) that is Eddies shade of yellow and it is the first time we really see Eddie surrounded in some way by that particular shade of yellow. Along with the yellow cup sitting between Ramon and Eddie, it is just further proof for the yellow and Eddie theory and that it is not only a symbol of his underlying queerness, but of his truest self - at its healthiest.

He is able to forgive Ramon and move forward - vowing to be a better person - not for Chris, but for himself - that is huge growth for Eddie at that point in his arc so that yellow being there is key - the fact it follows through and transfers onto him at the stat of season 6 is indicative of that growth and embracing of self having stuck. The fact we then see it go backwards as s6 progresses (especially after Bucks death and resurrection but that is a meta for another day!) leading us into season 7’s insane events before we get the reappearance of the yellow (the same shirt) as Eddie tries to recapture that self growth - so that he can reach a point of being able to work through things with Chris - which is where we have reached now - Eddies still wearing the darker yellow - suggesting that growth is still there and part of who he is, but the paler yellow he is surrounded by now is indicative of the work he needs to do outside of himself

It is also worth noting the blue table runner that sits between Eddie and Ramon in this scene as well - because Ramon never touches the blue - but Eddie does

So to have the kitchen go from this darker, stronger more positive yellow to now become this pale and sickly yellow when we’re about to have Eddie dealing with Helena - who is a representation of Eddies mind - is very telling. We are playing on the idea that Eddies mental health is not great right now and that is what he needs to fix. The other thing to note about this yellow is that it is the same colour as the exterior of the Diaz house - as we saw in the begins episode mostly but also briefly in the background of the retirement party in 517 - its all playing into a permeating malaise engulfing Eddie - its always in his background - its always been lurking and hasn’t been confronted. So yes it’s yellow and that’s a good thing. But it’s a bit like the darker - navy- blues we kept seeing on Buck (and still do to a certain extent) when he’s following his colour but in the wrong direction compared with the lighter brighter blue when he’s on the right path.

The fact it is the kitchen - the heart of the home - is what makes the use of yellow and blue in combination espeically key here, because for me the yellow is likely going to be playing into the idea of cowardice on multiple fronts - that Eddie is not yet able to confront what he needs to, that Chris is not in a place where he is prepared to have the actual conversation he needs to have with his dad, that Helena and probably Ramon will be too cowardly to Suport Eddie and his needs - to recognise their own failings and mistreatment of Eddie in this situation. Whilst also calling back to the overall family trait of running away when faced with a situation you don’t like or know how to handle maturely (Chris gets some grace here as he is still a child and has learned a behaviour from his family!).

But we also have the blue is framing the windows (and being present in a lot of other places but its the curtains that are the most obvious blue in the scene) - windows are symbolic in and of themselves - they are connected with transition and perspective or obstruction and also as a source of illumination and we’ve seen the show using glass and windows (or even peep holes) to great effect - using glass as a barrier but also something that can be crossed and as a way of gaining perspective. The windows here are shrouded, but they let in a lot of light - they are illuminating - and therefore this scene is likely to be an illuminating one - most likely into the struggles that lie ahead for Eddie. But all the windows also suggest that he is entering a period of transition. The fact those things are surrounded by blue - a calming colour associated with honesty and commitment, security and protection, trust loyalty and support. It is also a conservative colour and can tend towards passiveness and avoiding confrontation.

In combination with the check that Eddie is wearing, I’m expecting this scene to end on a tense note and with Eddie not actively doing anything to resolve his issues - it feels very much like its the set up for Eddies arc and nothing close to a resolution in any form - its going to be about showing the audience all the things Eddie has to resolve before LA is a possibility again.

As for his shirt - its yellow ochre - along with the brighter toned shades of yellow it trends much more towards the positive end of the yellow spectrum - so the communication and logic, clarity and intellect and cheerfulness. In combination with the brown - which is one of the colours the show is using as an overarching theme this season - its telling us that Eddie is attempting to create stability and an new foundation from which to build his future. Brown is a colour of stability, foundations, enrichment, reliability, wisdom, support and honesty. It can also be seen a dull or boring as well as conservative, loneliness and isolation.

All things that apply to Eddie right now - the stability and foundation meaning comes from the earth being brown and it being where seeds are planted - bringing about new growth (but not actually being growth) - which is exactly what Eddie is trying to do in El Paso - he also thinks Chris has stability in El Paso and that has left him feeling isolated and alone. The other thing with this shirt (and the later blue one) is that this is very much the Eddie of old - this shirt and style - just go look at any of the Eddie flashback scenes - especially in Eddie begins and you will see a series of shirts just like it. Eddie does not wear check patterning all that often - we see it popping up from time to time in season 2, but then not again until we hit Eddie begins when we see lots of it - and then it disappears again until we get the blue and black check patterned shirt when he calls Marisol at the end of season 6. So basically its symbolic of his El Paso existence - its decreasing appearances throughout season 2 as Eddie adjusts and settles into LA shows that change and growth in him from the Eddie of El Paso we get to meet in Eddie begins who is wearing so much check and has his hair in this same style. The check is all but gone from his life - until he calls Marisol - when it reappears and proves that that is Eddie acting on old expectations - connected to El Paso - and therefore his parents expectations for him. So this yellow and brown shirt is all about signalling that Eddie is reverting back to who he was - whilst being on a new path and that he will be somewhat isolated in this scene, that his return to El Paso is about starting again - building from the foundation up, but that he is doing so by forcing himself back into the skin he wore before he moved to LA.

Ok on to the other things I have spotted in this scene firstly lets go back to the blue because it extends far beyond the curtains! Blue is Bucks colour and it’s always around Eddie - far more than any other character in the scene. There is the blue curtains I’ve already talked about, but there is also blue placemats and the dish towel Eddie is holding is blue striped. A lot of the little touches are blue - like the tiles above the sink or the background of the heart art above the door and the various blue jars we can see.

Amazon box still

Even the tape on the amazon box is blue coloured - and it’s teal/aqua when we see the other amazon product placement boxes (see the car sales still!) which suggests they deliberately chose the blue in this scene to help with the blue theming. Eddie is not the only one constantly surrounded by blue, but he is more than any other character in that scene from what we can tell from these stills, but he is the only one constantly in contact with something blue (that isn’t their clothing - not counting jeans or dresses etc here) - the amazon box, the dish towel, and the fact that the napkins are blue and Eddie is the only one with one on his lap (it swaps legs but this show doesn’t know continuity!!) the fun thing about that napkin is that with the yellow shirt it gives us a fun parallel to Buck (yes I am probably clowning a bit here, but go with me!)

Because my guess is this is the first scene we’re going to see Eddie with Chris, Helena and Ramon in together since Chris left at the end of 710 - when Buck was wearing yellow ochre trousers and a navy blue top. Who is now wearing a yellow ochre top and has something navy in his lap?? Yes - we have a reverse colouring going on here. This is Eddie having Buck close even in his absence - all the blue is a list Buck to a certain extent, but this napkin especially - its hidden - not that visible to the others, but Eddie has a touchstone with Buck through that napkin - it is the Eddie equivalent of Buck saying Eddies name 500 times in the last episode - and Buck is probably not going to get much of a mention here if at all in this scene - but we still have him present in some way through colour coding. The fact that its hidden under the table - its all about the suggestion that Eddie may end up feeling alone at that table, but he isn’t - Buck is there for him - not physically present, but always having his back even from 800 miles away - its also a play on the yellow/blue queer coding and the fact that Eddies feelings for Buck are currently hidden - but that fact we the audience can see that blue napkin is a low key nod to that fact that those feelings are there - along with the Buck watch being very visible and a connection to LA and the life he has given up.

Ok last thing from this scene is Helena being in fuchsia - have to admit when I saw her in that colour in these stills I laughed out loud becasue the colour fuchsia has some very specific colour meanings attached to is and they perfectly sum up Helena Diaz! It’s a colour of certainty, confidence, and strong beliefs, self willed and arrogant, controlling, manipulative, and opinionated. It does also have connections to nurture and maternal instincts.

So it is a colour that really helps to tell us who Helena Diaz is and what her motives are - especially in this scene, where we are likely to see much of that come into play - we see her seated on both sides of the table, and even though we have zero context right now, in the image below it is clear that her focus is on Chris and the hand on his shoulder feels more controlling - the fact that in these stills she is either always looking at Chris (even when Eddie is looking at her) or in contact with him physically and the only time we see her looking at Eddie is when he is on the other side of the room and his back is to he - making it clear where her maternal instincts lie.

Onto Chris and his very interesting colour coding in these stills. Chris does wear a fair amount of grey across the seasons of 911, but there are usually in t-shirt form and bearing a brightly coloured logo - which is always connected into Eddie or Chris’s arc in some way for the season and the bright colours of those means the grey is really there as a neutral background. But now we have him in that neutral grey - but with a black logo - its all much more washed out and muted than we’ve seen Chris in before now - and it carries on the theme we’ve seen in the video chats where his colours have been muted and washed out (and lots of that El Paso check!!)

The black logo, which is on his back rather than the front is the face of a big cat - a panther/puma most likely. Now there are several potential meanings to the use of this black cat/panther. There is a very famous tale by Edgar Allen Poe called ‘The black cat’ which is an allegory for self justification and the black cat is the prism through which the narrator explores the twisting of reality to fit the narrative one wants it to be. Its an exploration of Jungian psychology - which interestingly was heavily focused on the concept of repression - of ones self, personality and instincts - which when this repression of self builds up it is likely to explode in a destructive way (tell me this doesn’t;t sound like Eddies s7 arc I dare you!!) more generally black cats or panthers symbolise power, darkness, death and rebirth and resilience in many cultures. This suggests those are elements we will be seeing in Eddie and Chris’s arc. The concept of the death of their previous relationship with the rebirth of a new one, the play on Shannon’s death creating darkness in their family unit - which still persists - and the ultimate rebirth as a new family unit (also including Buck down the line!) and it also suggests the death and rebirth of the Diaz family more widely - so including Helena and Ramon. The resilience is also a key thing here - both for Chris and Eddie - they are both displaying that trait and it feels likely that it will continue to be one we see as a key part of their arc.

The neutrality of the grey is unemotional and detached and this plays into the idea of being closed off - of Chris being unavailable to Eddie at this point in time - emotionally and communicatively . It is also a pessimistic and indecisive colour which is also in keeping with the likely story arc we’re going to get and are two meanings that do speak to teenage behaviours and feelings. I think it’s a fascinating colour choice to grey Chris out and potentially make the scene more about Eddie, Helena and Ramon - with Chris present but not the thing we should be focused on in the scene.

This muting of Chris’s clothing is also on display in the stills on the veranda - and this costume is such a mini Eddie costume that it speaks volumes. The colour way is all Eddie - we have the brown trousers - which are check patterned, we have a cream tee (which has a logo of some sort on but I can’t see what it is from these stills!) and a hoodie jacket that is stitched in a denim jacket style but is a heavy weight jersey knit fabric and in a khaki green which is very much in Eddies colour wheel! The fact he is in muted colours that are straight out of the Eddie Diaz colour book and the fact he is also playing chess - its all about paralleling Eddie himself. Eddie has worn this type of green both as a piece of colour coding denoting his military past, but also as a sign that he’s at war with himself in some way - its most obvious display of this was his breakdown scene and his subsequent battle with his depression. Therefore this costume is reflective of him being like Eddie - it’s speaking of underlying unhappiness (and trauma), but it is also a play on running away - as his parents both did. Eddie is the stronger parallel for the obvious reason that he is the main character here not Shannon - plus the fact that Eddie went to war - making the addition of the game of chess a key part of the narrative and connection to Eddie. Chess is a game of war and strategy is suggestive of Chris being at war (the battle is internal) - which is caused by his trauma - but its also indicative that he has only been getting support on that front from Ramon - the act of him teaching Chris chess is a play on the idea of him teaching him coping strategies. It is placing Ramon in a much better position than Helena - at least Ramon is trying to help Chris - something established back in 8a and the only one we’ve been shown/ told is doing something with Chris that is an attempt to help him. Helena has just been shown posturing and talking a big talk (putting in a swimming pool) but none of that has been about Chris in reality.

The entire scene is intriguingly set up - in part because it appears to be at Eddies new house - his fixer upper - with its peeling green trim and doors and general run down appearance. We also see Eddie in a dark maroon/brown shirt - with no watch in sight - which is very telling to me at least - I’m undecided as to if its mean to indicate the lack of time, or if its absent because this scene will really start to dig into past Eddie and the relationship he has with his mom especially and therefore there is no need to play on time - we’ll find out when we see the episode. The maroon/ brown is yet more brown to add to the season colour theme, but its maroon undertones really fits it into the parental maroon colour theme the show uses with most characters, but especially with Eddie - the fact it is so brown toned is playing along similar lines to the reds in the kitchen from 517 - and that’s pushing me towards thinking that this scene will be doing something of the exploring Eddie being parentified by Helena (and Ramon) when he was a child himself that this is about fixing or starting to fix that part of things rather than it being centred on Chris. That it is about Eddie going back to the beginning to be able to correct and repair his present and future.

Helena is in a floral shirt and white and this pale blue that does have a slightly lavender undertone to it. Shes very much in contrast to Eddie here - her colours are cold and closed off and she sits in start contrast to all the colours around her - Eddies brownish maroon is in the same total pallette as the background - the house, the furniture and the wall hanging, even Chris and Ramon sit withing that colour pallette as well. But Helena - like her fuchsia cardigan from the previous stills, stands out from her surroundings. The blue being a cold tone makes it conservative and impersonal and also predictable, but the fact that it makes her stand out is the key here - its sets things up as her being the focus of the scene - both visually and most likely narratively. What these stills from both this scene and the kitchen one are doing is showing us that they are scenes focused on the Helena of it all - the major thing Eddie truly needs to deal with early on and that’s what is making me excited for this episode and these scenes. The visual framing is all set up ready to go - now we await the other aspects of a scene to reveal more!

Blue check Eddie with is yellow ochre toned binder and the yellow and blue colouring we can see - the cabinet, the flag in the background and the blue chair. It’s giving me calling Marisol shirt vibes from 618 and that’s intriguing to me considering that she turned out to be a former nun - the entire still is giving me either church or church school vibes, but it could also be a fire station and there is a character called assistant chief Jamie De La Cruz - so its entirely possible that it is some form of fire department building - it feels like its going to end up being a not great outcome for Eddie - along with the check pattern helping out on that front - if that’s not being offered a job or being offered one that is going to diminish him in some way who knows, but its not a positive looking set up on the visuals front!

Car lot still my beloved! There is literally soooo much in this one still for me to talk about - all the yellow and blue around Eddie is incredibly loud - literally everywhere - from the stickers on the the car windscreen behind him being predominately yellow and blue, to the light blue wall behind the chainlink fence and rthe blue cladding trim on the building to the left, you can include the yellow and blue bunting if you want to, but there is also pink red and green there so I’m not discounting it, but putting it much lower down in its relevance. And there is the fact that in the refelections in the Denali we can see lots of yellow and blue which I’m sure we’ll see more of in the actual scene. We seem to get a huge amount of yellow and blue colour coding around Eddie at locations connected to cars - especially this season with ‘No place like home’ giving us Eddie at Weston’s Dad’s motor shop with all its very very loud yellow and blue theming in an episode heavily colour themed with yellow and blue.

The fact that link to yellow and blue and cars exists in connection with Eddie and that it is also tied into parents and their children (because 504 also played on that same theme) is interesting to me (and not just because it is also tied into Hen’s arc - the main queer character on the show - and her parenting journey) because the fact this scene seems to be Eddie selling the Denali - a car heavily connected to Shannon and Eddies struggles with his grief ( as well as to Buck - in his bright blue fraying shirt jacket - and his own struggles with the grief of Eddie leaving) - i want to wait until I’ve seen the scene in full, but right now this scene is a really important one in terms of queer Eddie - not necessarily explicitly so, but very definitely in the subtext because this is Eddie letting go of his grief and therefore letting go of Shannon. But it also does one other thing - the play on the car name - Denali - with denial - its also a symbol of denial no longer being an option going forwards - for Eddie, or for Buck (the only other person we have seen in this truck).

And then we get to Eddies outfit in this still. Have I ever mentioned how much I love the wardrobe team - especially when they a repeat an outfit? And have I ever told you how much I love it when that outfit is repeated for a third or even 4th time? Because yes this is in fact the the 4th time we are seeing Eddie in this costume of a western style pearl popper button up denim shirt with dark olive khaki trousers and brown shoes!! Yes that’s s right - the 4th time!

Time no.1 - Abuela’s hospital room at the end of 204 we see Eddie by her bed as Carla brings Chris in to see Abuela - having started working for Eddie - after Buck introduces them. We don;t get to see much of the trousers in the scene, but you can see from this screenshot that the dark olive khaki trousers are there.

Time no. 2 - in Eddie begins we see Eddie fight with his parents and talk on the porch with Chris when they decide to move to LA - It’s also worth pointing out here that the yellow is the same as the yellow in the Diaz kitchen in the new stills. Same pants, trousers, white undershirt, slightly different but still brown boots and the same hand in the pocket vibe!

Time no. 3 - really hard to get a screen shot of this one because we don’t really see the pants and shirt together much, but you can see the pants in the below screen grab and take my word for it that its the same shirt - or rewatch the scene if you’re so inclind. This scene is the ‘welcome back to the land of the living Buck’ scene from 701

There are a few significant things at play here. Most of the scenes when we see Eddie wearing denim are connected to family in some way - Abuela, Shannon, and Buck, and the Diaz parents. Eddie doesn’t wear denim shirts all that much in the grand scheme of the show and that makes their use and particularly the use of a repeat outfit in this way particularlyy important. This outfit is essentially a symbol of being o the right track - on the right path, its s heavily connected to the idea of breaking free or moving forwards in some way. Carla is now there to help Eddie (thanks to Buck) so Eddie is able to fully settle into his LA life and is no longer at risk of proving his parents right - it’s freedom from El Paso and shows that LA is the right path for him - that accepting Bucks help and support is the right path as well.

The fight with Helena and Ramon and the subsequent conversation with Chris is about moving and escaping a situation that is holding you back, Eddie making that choice to move to LA and to not listen to his parents - again it is him on the right path.

The same can be said of the locker room scene with Buck. Buck was being held back by his death, but so too was Eddie. Death had changed their relationship (graveyard scene) and Buck dumping Natalia because all she talked about was death ultimately sets not only Buck free from his death, but Eddie free as well - they can both start living again - and ultimately what this scene is doing is resetting the Buck and Eddie of it all and putting them both on the right path - its about setting buddie in motion which is the longer term right path rather than a more immediate pay off right path (its also a symbolic nod to buddie being free of network restrictions and being allowed to happen with the move to abc).

So having Eddie wearing an outfit that is a symbol of breaking free and setting himself on the right path as he sells the car is likely about him finally breaking free of his grief and anger around Shannon and her death. Its about him finally being able to let her go so both he and she can move on (and Chris as well because Eddie clinging to her ghost has stopped him from grieving properly and has caused him trauma). I’m not saying this scene magically does all of that - just that it is the marker point for Eddie and sets him on his path to healing and moving on and in a more low key way is setting Eddie fully on his path to his feelings realisation that will be the culmination of his letting go of Shannon arc. It is a key indicator of Eddie’s story arc over this episode of the next couple of episodes.

Just to further add credence to this costuming choice. We do see this shirt pop up in season 4 - when Eddie introduces Ana to Chris as his girlfriend - the difference here is that the trousers are light tan rather than the dark olive green - it is an indicator that this path is not the right one - its not the entirely wrong path - as it is technically him trying to move on from Shannon, but its not the right path because he is doing it for Chris and not for himself - trying to provide that mother figure he thinks Chris needs.

And just to get even more unhinged about it we have the boating lake scene with Kim - which is a reverse of the repeat costume - the colours are right - we have the olive green and the dark denim, but its the western style popper button up shirt that is green with the dark denim jeans - its not the right way around and Eddie has got turned about and has taken the wrong path. That his pursuit of a woman who looks like his dead wife is not the way to go about dealing with your grief that you have failed to deal with up to this point. The colours are correct - suggesting that in the same way the wrong colours meant the wrong path for Ana - a minor setback in that instance, that this too is the wrong path - but that its one that will set him back much further!

I”m going to stop writing now - I have gone on far far longer than was my intent and I ended up on several side quests I did not expect to end up on - worthwhile ones as I got to deep dive into Eddies repeat outfit a bit more as well as explore the muting of Christopher and that he’s becoming a mini Eddie visually and really get into the colours of the Diaz kitchen - so all worth it im my book - hopefully you enjoyed it and found it interesting and worthwhile as well - let me know your thoughts in the tags and comments and as always thanks for taking the time to read my very long rambles. I can’t wait to see how it all ends up playing out in the episode!

Tagged people below!

@lover-of-mine @spotsandsocks @fruityfirehose @wanderingwomanwondering @livingwherethesidewalkends @buddiediaz118 @bewitchedbewilderedbisexual @satvojihusana @elvensorceress @icebergeddie @buckleyanddiaz @eddiedisasterdiaz @kejfeblintz @cookie-kat777 @leothil @bucksbelly @kyoteugly @bi-moonlight @somebodycall911onabc @trudayss @chaosandwolves @lemotmo @buckleyanddiaz

[infiniteseriesofhalfways]

also here's two terrible photos of what ive been knitting this week:

there's too many stitches so i cant stretch it out properly, and the construction makes it hard to really show it off. also im in bed so it's the best i can do right now.

anyhow this is clue 1 of Stephen West's Go Go Dynamo MKAL, which im two weeks behind on but it's fine. it's been fun so far, minus the 'bubbles', which are the bane of my existence.

[baepsays]

High School Oblivion ⸻ Gojo Satoru x reader

description ᯓ★ while going through his high school yearbook when helping his mother clean out their storage, Gojo's hands get stuck on a page with a picture of this one particular person. he cannot help but reminisce about the past as now a 30 year old and wonder how things could have turned out if everything went down differently.

cw ᯓ★ fluff, sfw, implicated angst, really mild angst, enemies to friends, one sided love, pining, academic rivals, lowkey bully Gojo, teasing and name calling—nothing really extreme, high school au, frenemies really, usage of fem oriented pronouns, reader is depicted as a fem presenting person, reader is depicted shorter than Gojo, written basically from Gojo's pov, time skips, nosebleed, sorry but use of y/n l/n i know that can be cringy but whatever.

𐙚 Playlist I used while writing this.

Satoru is a good son. In fact, he's kind, diligent, genuine, obedient, and- "Stop trying to slack off and get back to work." Well, his mother might disagree.

"You cannot be asking me to help you and also boss me around mom." Satoru says with a signature pout. Having Gojo Satoru as your son and raising him, doesn't really immunize a person to his pouts. Or maybe his mother is biased because he looks exactly like his father when he's trying to sway her as well and he pulls out what seems to be a Gojo family weapon. But naturally she has her own defenses. 

"I'm only making you do this because you left all this behind yourself Sato, why didn't you take some of this or clean it when you moved out?"

"Wow just because I am a grown adult I cannot believe my own mother is treating me like one. Wow, what has the world come to." Satoru exclaimed like the drama queen he is. 

"Stop being dramatic and help me properly you know I can't lift up all these boxes you have essentially filled with garbage. Clean out these last 3 boxes piled up in categories of what you need and what to throw out, I'll go check on your father."

It seems his whining doesn't always work on his mother the way it does on his father. Oh well. Though this has been such a nostalgic Sunday, being back in his childhood home, well second one, the neighborhood he grew up in for the better part of his teenage and young adulthood, getting forced into helping out his mother, and the smell of his father's cooking  on a weekend. Time might as well revert back.

While cleaning out one of the, what seems never ending, boxes of childhood belongings— Gojo Satoru stumbles upon something he hasn't seen in probably 12 years. His high school yearbook.

It is a natural thing to go into the realm of nostalgia when stumbling upon things like this. Flipping through the pages he really grasps how much he has already forgotten. I mean that is given, it's been 12 years since he graduated. It takes him 12 months to find his lost socks.

Looking through the pictures he realizes how much everything has changed. The length of Suguru's hair has changed, as well as Shoko's. Nanami has gotten more chiseled or tired; he cannot say exactly, Utahime finally has a decent haircut.  And look at him! Oh how naive he was, look at those big blue eyes with nothing behind them, covered by those obnoxious pairs of shades. Maybe some things haven't changed, never mind. He's probably never letting go of his obnoxious collection of shades.

As he flips through the pages his fingers get stuck on a particular page. And the memories just come flooding in without any effort.

[BACK IN HIGH SCHOOL, fifteen years ago]

Gojo Satoru saw you for the first time at the school gates on his first day during first year, at a new high school. 

He was not very fond of the idea of going to school in a new city, away from the place he grew up in, unfamiliar people, and joining in the middle of the year when everyone has already somewhat settled down, it unnerved him. Unfortunately, throwing a fit about staying in a house his parents already sold and made all the arrangements to move to another place, couldn't help him much.  

Some random kid showing up in the middle of the year is just a recipe to be bullied, or at least be prone to such jabs. He had decided prior to his first day, that he would go in with a stone cold face and be brave through this. Or, plan B.

While he was heavily contemplating standing in front of the main gate, the last bell already rang, he was officially late for his first day. Well he arrived a lot earlier, then somehow everyone passed by him and the final bell rang and he just stood there. And he was thinking about making a run for it, that was the plan B, taking a train back to Tokyo, and from there on he will figure it out. His parents will definitely know, find him, maybe this ordeal will finally make them understand how serious he was about not settling in here, even if that came at the cost of being grounded for life. 

Satoru almost turned around to walk away from his new high school, his new city— his new home essentially— that is when a breeze of air gushed past him. When he looked forward, past the gates of the school, there was a fluff of hair, in the said school's uniform with a bag in her hands; dangling and teetering to fall on the ground, a key chain bouncing by one of the zippers— cute little orange cat, bouncing on her bag. She was running with all her might to make it, unlike him. That is all he saw of her, but he smelled much more. The lingering smell of her perfume, or soap or just- whatever it may be. 

Lemons? Bergamot maybe. Distinctly citrus, not the sour kind, or the room freshener kind— a sweet smell of ripe citrus in the summer sun, kind of citrus. And flowers, peonies to be exact, that was very apparent. 

Satoru, to this day, has never smelled that kind of tantalizing fragrance. To this day, he still remembers exactly how he stood there dumb; eyes wide open, mouth agape, and nothing but citrus with peonies haunting his chemoreceptors.

That day he tried to run after you, to put a name and face to the fragrance that in an instant hypnotized him, and to return that orange cat. Unfortunately, the teetering little cat keychain did fall off your bag, and when he ran after you to return it, he couldn't catch up to your haste. And since that day he didn't see you until a whole month passed. 

That month he met his lifelong circle of friends, his best of friends. But it wasn't easy for neither of the sides to become acquainted, he was in a broody depressed rage about shifting and had already made up his mind that ‘well everyone must hate me’ — teenagers. Anyway, the first day he sat beside Geto Suguru he barked at Suguru for no reason, poor suguru was just being friendly and kind. So yes that broke into a little kerfuffle, got a lot of scolding from their homeroom teacher, Mr. Yaga. Later Suguru still dragged Satoru with him to eat lunch with his friends. 

This is important to the story because, nostalgia and well, Satoru realized you were literally in the class next door, because of Shoko.

One day, when Suguru and him were irritating Kento, with a giggly Haibara, it took him only 2 weeks to drop his ‘you don't understand mom’ & ‘i am above you people’ act.

don't get it wrong, he still thinks he's better than most people, which isn't entirely wrong but god is it annoying. And that is exactly how you felt about Gojo Satoru upon your first impression of him. 

On that fateful day you went to look for Shoko, and found her, as usual at the school basketball court with her friends, with an addition of white fluff. You had heard of Gojo Satoru a lot at that point, the girls in your class went to gather out of their class to check him out, from what you heard he picked a fight with Suguru that day. Off the get go you did not think much of him, probably some pretty face with connections and money to spare by getting into unnecessary trouble. 

Satoru didn't see you entering the basketball court that day, but he smelled you. In the past month there had been few instances where his nostrils would be randomly engulfed by that citrusy peony smell, and he would halt in his pace to whip his head around to find the source. But alas, by the time he would turn around, you'd be nowhere to be found, and your perfume would slowly fade out. 

And here you were, in all your physical tangible glory, for a second Satoru was taken aback seeing you there—somewhere somehow, before your fragrance could reach him, something about you struck him right in his throat. Maybe it was his subconscious, but he halted right where he was, mid match with Kento and Suguru. When was the ball snatched away from him, or when your bergamot and peonies perfume took over his senses; neither could be pinpointed. All he knew was that— it was you. 

It was the girl with messed up collars and messy hair. Who smells divine. And the orange cat keychain!— Which has been sitting on his desk for a month. Satoru couldn't care less about Suguru egging him on about making a basket, nor did he see Kento slowly retire to the audience benches with Haibara— he stood there, staring at you, giving back Shoko some notebook; not important. He needed to go up to you. He needed to introduce himself! He couldn't let you slip away now. 

So right before you told Shoko you'd be taking your leave, he rushed over there, and haphazardly blurted out— “you smell.” 

“Excuse me!?” you looked at him flabbergasted. 

“Satoru, why are you trying to pick a fight?” Shoko had to intervene. Because what a horrible way to introduce two of  your friends to each other.

“Listen Gojo, I do not know what your problem is, but I'd advise you to keep yourself and your opinions to yourself.” You warned him before storming out of the basketball court with furrowed eyebrows and red ears.  

“Damn dude, do you even know her? Why would you even say that?” Suguru was honestly very entertained by this exchange that day, as he was thoroughly entertained by you two's interactions throughout high school. 

Satoru didn't mean to start off on such a contemptuous note with you, he didn't really mean it. I mean- he did mean what he said, it's just his phrasing was poor. He has always been reprimanded about this problem by his mother since he was a kid, his father did find it extremely funny. At times, he too found his poor choice of vocabulary funny, unfortunately it wasn't one of those circumstances. 

Later he had explained this to Shoko, telling Suguru anything was useless, he was too preoccupied with reenacting his failed attempt at making a good first impression on you. He then only revealed why he has been looking for the girl who smells like bergamot and peonies—which he didn't use as a descriptor of you, that much detail and all of them are on his neck about being a little obsessed creep. He didn't go into any details, he just told them he met you on his first day, at the school gates and you were late, also about how you dropped your keychain. After all that is why he ran after you that day to find you and give it back to you, but unfortunately he got blind sighted by your perfume, right? Well that is what he is willing to tell others and himself. At least he knew your name now.

And surprisingly you also knew him? Did you also see him at the gates that day? Or did you see him in the hallways? Or with Shoko? Or-Why was he so concerned anyway? All he needed was to return the keychain and get over this whole thing, you didn't seem like a very easygoing person. But maybe that had to do with his poor sentence structuring.

Next time Satoru saw you, you were in your class. It was before the morning bell rang, he showed up at the door by the end of your classroom, to seem more inconspicuous. He was looking around to find you in the midst of the flock of girls gathered around him to enquire about his sudden visit, so much for being inconspicuous. Fortunately, he saw you soon enough at the front of the classroom in a seat by the windows — “Y/N!” 

and everyone turned to stare at you, ‘great’—wasn't exactly what you were feeling. When you walked up to Satoru, you couldn't help but narrow your eyes at the guy. “Did not think we were on a first name basis.” 

“Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot, i-” Gojo tried to explain. 

“I think we got off on exactly the right foot, I mean who just gets all up into someone's face and calls them smelly?” Your voice was already going up quite a bit. 

“No, listen, that was a misunderstanding. I mean I did mean what I said, but-” he tried to, horribly, explain himself. 

“Seriously, your audacity is immense, not only did you call me smelly, but now you're showing up to my class to pick a fight!?” you definitely lost some cool at that point. Everyone who wasn't already congregated, also gathered around, inside the classroom and outside in the hallway. 

“First of all, will you stop cutting me off? I am trying to explain the situation here!” And now Satoru was also losing it. 

“Explain? Explain what? Explain how you are above everything and literal incarnation of God or something? Oh did my lowly perfume perhaps irritate your nose hair?” The sarcasm clearly entailed what kind of image you have already built in your head about him. Perhaps it was from all sorts of exaggerated rumours about him. Though you didn't seem like one to fall for such petty rumours, like how he was an undercover actor or prince. But he was sure what kind of a person you thought this guy was—an arrogant asshole. 

“Do you even know me?” said Satoru, now starting to become really irritated by your—in his opinion—unnecessary attitude. The last month has been hard enough as is. It took him time to settle down and not let people’s stares or baseless rumors get to him—some of them might have been funny if he was being honest. It was the friends he made in his first week who held him back from getting into more fights than he already did, and had his back against all the whispers. 

“Do you know me well enough to shout my first name in front of my entire class!?” Well Satoru didn't have a comeback to that. “Exactly. So why don't you keep yourself and your arrogance out of my sight.” You grimaced.

“Arrogance? Oh please shortcake. You sure have a lot of words to spout with that height of yours.” Now he was just being petty.

“Oh because being a streetlight is so gratifying!” 

“At least I don't cut people off mid sentence then talk shit!” and he has completely lost his cool.

“Oh don't put on pretence! Like you are some saint!? For who? The girls who flock you like some shiny stone?” 

“Oh don't be salty just because I didn't give you some attention shortcake.” He was trying to get under your skin. He's now losing sight of his actual motive.

“Yes, because I am dying to be acknowledged by your highness, and how my smell is bothering his expensive nose!” 

“Listen. That was entirely a misunderstanding, and you're not even trying to hear me out. You are the one picking a fight!” 

“Oh I am sorry, I just can't stand pretentious people.” you stab your last quip with a glare, stabbing right through his chest, all while maintaining perfect eye contact. 

“You know what. Nevermind shortcake, this was a waste of time.” 

“I didn't even ask for your presence in the first place.” Your eyes deadpanned, remained trained on him, bored yet bothered. Both of your faces mere inches away, when did it get there? No idea. He was cranking his head down to glare back into your eyes, losing all motivation to return your keychain. And before he could come up with any further retort, the bell rang. Thankfully.

Word of this interaction spread through the entire school like wildfire. 

A few things were instantly established in the passing months since Satoru’s arrival—he was going to be popular, he is good at almost everything, and that he got along with almost everyone; even the people he did not have a good rapport with at the beginning, now he seemingly got along with them perfectly. 

But, there was one person who could not stand him. And that person happened to be you. And everyone was aware of this. The students, respective and common friends, the teachers, heck even the principal knew.  

Yet in the next 6 months since Satoru joined the school, he found himself crossing paths with you quite often. First he really did just avoid you; he gave up on giving back the keychain, that he did out of pettiness. He really did want to return it, but unless and until you dropped your attitude he was not letting the cat chain go, but he did take good care of it— it sat nicely on his desk, gave it a little bed made out of a soft napkin he got from his mom. Once in a while he would dust it and give it pats, and also speak to it. Yeah, after dinners when he would be studying he would speak to that little guy. He was feeling real friendly with it, which made him feel more bad for it, because at the end of the day it belonged to you. 

In the instances where Satoru and you would run into each other; you could be laughing out loud and having a fun time and then, you would see him across the hallway and your face would morph into a scowl. It irked him, in a good way, it made him feel excited that he had such a sway on you. Even if he was convinced it was not that one single—incorrectly interpreted—comment about your perfume, which made you have such a poor opinion of him; there has to have been a deeper reason. From what he has gathered, you are the highest scoring student in the entire year, the teachers have a very good opinion of you, and you are helpful towards your peers— a straight A’s student, and their sophomore student body council secretary, a real model student. Even though you would mostly keep to yourself, you were still pretty well known by others. 

Yet when you saw him, you would lose your cool. In fact from what he heard, the biggest takeaway from the fight you two had was that, ‘woah she can be like that?’, because people apparently had never seen you speak over a certain decibel. That stroked his ego. Made him feel sort of special, got him all giddy. 

He was yet to realize the gravity of those feelings. The impact of the rush he felt when he smelled your sweet and citrusy fragrance when you passed by him, speeding up to lose sight of him faster. And he would always be left behind, to stand still, taking it all in.  

His little teasing remarks, pranks, and fight initiators started soon after the fight you two had that day; started small really. Calling you shortcake constantly, interrupting you when you would go to their class to make some announcement on behalf of the student body. Trying to get better grades than you. Going over to the student body room, using his class president Kento as an excuse, to annoy you. Stealing your spectacles on days you would not put in contacts, trying it on and copying your mannerisms. His personal favorite was to snatch away any books, notebooks, or papers in your hands; to then hold it over his head. The whole thing about you jumping to try and get it out of his hands—which was an impossible task for you—gave him the opportunity to smell your scent much better. 

During one of such instances, where he was holding one of the student council papers over his head, prolonging your work, he got a whiff of your shampoo. It smelled like fruits, strawberries and more citrus—it smelled like orange this time. This was fatal. The notes of bergamot and peonies were threatening his sanity as is, and now there were strawberries. He got so trancened by your presence that when his hand lowered involuntarily, you took the chance to grab onto his shoulder, to use him as a support to reach for your papers—he stood there looking into your squinting eyes as you retrieved the papers from his hand, until you walked off muttering curses at him. 

And he just stood staring at your back. His eyes lingered on you long enough to see you turn back and throw a glare at him as you made a turn to disappear from his line of sight.

This went on, the teasing and squabbling, the name callings, use of the words shortcake and streetlight became significantly more frequent in your respective lexicons. Satoru loved using his pretty privileges to get the girls in your class to do his bidding, and had them sending you off somewhere without mentioning his name, the naive enchanted girls would abide with no questions asked. And when you would show up, he would throw a fake snake at you, or jumpscare you—though this was a more rare occurrence than his regular teasing, just so you would not get too used to this sort of pranks that it would lose its effect on you. 

To him the idea of you was like this puzzling question nagging and straining on his mind, much like your physical self. But you got him excited and riled up. Also a little annoyed at the fact that you do not think of him worthy enough to spare any time. Which is why he came up with these mischievous ideas to elicit reactions out of you. 

Nothing was more satisfying than to see you break under his little ventriloquism.

The dynamics took a slight turn when you two became second year students.

On the fateful morning of the day when the results for first year’s finals came out—you found yourself standing dumbfounded, looking at your full name on the bulletin board, in second place. 

You came in second. 

Which is big! An amazing achievement. But it didn't feel like it. Especially when your name was displayed second to Gojo Satoru. He outdid you, he really did. Getting better grades than you in random tests and what not was one thing, then outranking you and ruining your plan for a perfect streak—was another thing. The horror and embarrassment of standing in front of the huge display of the grades, surrounded by everyone, having your failures announced in broad daylight, hearing everyone whisper about you—had you standing there like a cold unmoving statue.

So when Satoru got around to finally stroll in with ease, way after the results were announced, to come up to stand directly behind you—because as always the first person his eyes wander to find in a crowd is—you. He couldn't figure out why you glared at him differently, there was this underlying somber and a tilting glaze in your eyes. It was as if any moment you were going to break down into tears and his presence was anything but welcomed. 

Praise his tongue, because thankfully that day it held itself back. Thankfully his senses caught on to what was happening. Coming in first or second or last did not matter much to him, because what mattered most to him was to simply  get under your skin, essentially the very reason why he ended up on the top of the list—but you did not find this funny or amusing. And it wasn't your usual annoyance and dismay of his antics, he really felt like he had done something to actually hurt you. 

And which in return hurt him tenfold. Knowingly or unknowingly, Gojo Satoru bled himself a wound that he didn't know how to stitch close. 

He didn't know what exactly hurt more, the fact you ran away from there that day after he arrived, without a single word. Or the fact that you've been completely ignoring his existence since that day. It has been really painful for him, because everytime he would get a glimpse of you or a whiff of you—you'd disappear from his sphere, as soon as humanly possible. He made every effort to try to speak to you. The rejoice he felt about being assigned to the same classroom as you this year, was starting to wear off. Especially when you made it explicitly clear through your actions that you had no intention of speaking to him or acknowledging his existence, more than ever. If you were helping out class president Nanami Kento with distributing papers, you would hand over his papers as nonchalantly as possible. In one of such several instances, he gave up on giving you space to get back to your usual self, and grabbed your wrist to explain himself. 

“L/n, listen, i am really sorry alright. I don't know how it happened. I swear I did not mean to hurt you like that, I swear! I was just-” he blabbed on without making much sense, whispering as discreetly as possible. Even though the entire school was aware you two were not on even speaking terms anymore. He did not want to put you in a position where everyone made a spectacle out of you.

“I have better things to do, Gojo.” as always you would cut him off, without even sparing him as much as even a glare, then yank your wrist out of his grasp to go on your merry way. 

He really did whatever he could, following you around like a kicked puppy, leaving notes on your desk, which was fortunately assigned right before his own desk—he was not sure if it made things a little easier for him, or a hundred times harder. It stung to find those notes crumbled up and sitting on his own desk later. Stung to sit behind you, when you refused to spare a glare or two his way, even some sharp remarks, or curses directed at him. The smell of sweet citrus and peonies did not help. The teachers would call him out more often than not for being distracted in class. Poor guy was really going through it.

The nail in his coffin was, when it had already been three weeks since the new year started. Three weeks and three days of you completely ignoring his pathetic attempts at saying sorry to you. On the fourth day of the fourth week, he found you in the teacher's lounge, speaking to one of your subject teachers;

“Goodness L/n. The year just started and you are already slacking off? Forgetting to submit the student council work on time, then forgetting your class assignments!? Is there something going on? No surprise Gojo surpassed you, do you understand the gravity of that? That careless guy outranked you. And you are making no efforts to rectify that! If things go on like this, next year you might come second from last.” he really crossed a line there.

If it was in Satoru’s capacity, he would’ve probably gone in and punched the man straight square in the jaw. He never really liked him to begin with. It was not about the fact he called Satoru careless, or the fact he always finds the flaws in Satoru—it was entirely about how he treated you. And it was not just in this instance, the guy has always been harsh and judgemental towards you, from what he heard it started since one day you corrected his mistake during class. And he was known to be not tolerant of anyone being better than him, especially students. 

Satoru almost broke into the room, when his eyes locked with yours. You stood in front of the guy with your hands tightly gripped by your side, facing the door. Your already glossy eyes started to almost overflow with tears when your gaze fell on him, your body was slightly trembling. How you managed to blink away those tears, is beyond him. In the brief moment where you looked at him and looked away to control your emotions, making an effort to not break down into tears in front of the room full of teachers, the teacher who was scolding you, and your homeroom teacher Mr. Yaga who was giving you pitiful glaces—he knew interrupting will only make things worse for you.

More than anyone, you did not want to cry in front of Satoru. And Satoru was cognizant of that fact better than maybe even yourself.

So, he did the most sensible thing he could in that moment, for once, he simply stood outside with his back to the wall outside of the teacher’s room, and did not dare to look inside. And he just waited while remaining unnoticeable. Waiting for you to come out, he did not care for the looks thrown his way by the students roaming in the hallways, as long as they did not spare a glance towards you and try to snoop. What did he even want to say to you when you came out of there? He had no idea, and he knew he was the last person you would want to see right now, but for him you are the first person he wants to see everyday after he wakes up—so he could not just let you be on your own in this condition. Because he knew better than anyone, you were not one to wear your heart on your sleeves. 

Satoru essentially blended in there, to the point you did not even notice him standing there when you left the room in a hurry, and headed the opposite way from your class. Recess was already over, that guy kept you in there for the entire recess period. ‘Goodness did you even eat?’ was something that crossed his mind among various spiteful and angry words he was muttering under his breath directed towards that teacher. 

You were never one to miss a class, cutting classes without any valid reason was out of the question. But honestly if you tried to go in the class right now, he would have probably dragged you somewhere else himself. So he did the next best thing—followed you from a distance to wherever you were going. No one is going to care or notice if you two were gone at the same time, right? Well at least he could make up some excuse and take all the blame himself. He was not exactly known for his attendance record anyway, the sole reason why he made sure not to miss school was because you barely ever skipped school. 

That is how he found you in the school yard at the back, near the flower patch the students planted, against the big Momiji tree. Where you are found most times during free periods, reading whatever book you may be reading at the moment. This time you were just crying, well it is not that he could see you, but he could tell. You were sitting with your knees to your chest, face buried in your hands, your entire figure was clearly trembling even from afar. Soft sobs jabbed his ears as he got closer and made his chest hurt. He slowly walked up to the tree trying not to scare you. 

“Stop lurking like a creep.” You said with your head still down.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.” He said softly, and went to take a seat beside you, unsure if you were going to run away from him again.

You laid your legs flat on the grass and rested your back against the tree when he made his way over to you. When you looked up at him, eyes bloodshot red, glassy with tears, and more tears running down your cheeks, pooling at your chin— with your lips slightly jutted out and eyebrows bunched up in a frown, he just fell on his knees in front of you. Happerhazadly pulled out his handkerchief, and offered to take it. 

“Is this funny to you?” you said with a frown. He knew you were upset but he couldn't help but think, and mindlessly said it out loud—

“Cute.” 

“Ah so this is cute to you!? You are finding my misery and embarrassment cute. You seriously-” he cuts you off mid sentence.

“Will you ever actually let me speak!?” He takes a second and continues “Goodness shortcake, I meant you are cute. The tongue you've got on you, could wound thousands of soldiers and that brain of yours could beat Usain Bolt in a race.” He let out a short chuckle as he shook his head slightly and wiped your face with his handkerchief. 

He gingerly wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks and chin, and the accumulated tears in the corners of your eyes. With utmost gentle touch he cleaned you up, which was characteristically contradictory.

You looked away from him without any retort. Too occupied with the fact he called you cute, to even notice that little gesture. So you further leaned back onto the tree as if it'll engulf you and make you not sit here with him and confront this heavy air hanging between you two. But also, who is stopping you from getting up and walking away? 

Things have always been odd when Gojo Satoru was involved. Somehow after everything, time and time again you found yourself breaking down all your walls to let this guy have a peek at your most authentic self—someone who is envious, easily irritable, not the patient and tolerating soft-spoken girl everyone knows. And it irks you. It claws at your skin that he has been nothing but himself since day one; even before entering the gates of the school, he didn't think of the consequences but just turned his back to it and almost walked away. Yet you were rushing to make it on time, to not have any smear on your perfect record. Even if you were late only because you were up studying until late for the midterms looming over, you could not excuse one slip up.

Why didn't he run the opposite direction of the school but instead chased after you?—you couldn't pinpoint the answer. Everything about him just simply made your head scramble, enough so you didn't even realize you lost your beloved cat keychain until later during lunch. Even when you searched around everywhere, traced back your steps, and looked for it on the route back home; it was nowhere to be found. You cried yourself to sleep that night thinking how you lost the keychain, which had a cat who looked exactly like the cat you once loved and cherished. It was unfortunate enough to have lost him at such a young age, but the key chain helped to have his presence as if guiding you through obstacles.

And without him, things have been a mess. The only explanation you could rationalize was that Gojo Satoru was the one to blame for everything. If he hadn't turned back and ran in after you, you would've been more receptive to your keychain dropping instead of this giant guy running behind you, and wouldn't have lost it. If only he didn't become friends with Shoko and the others you wouldn't have to possibly interact with him. And then he wouldn't know of your existence and try to make it his mission to have your life fall apart. 

“I'm sorry.” 

What surprising words even for him. There have been very few people in his life he has ever genuinely apologized to. He could count them all on all his fingers, but he never expected to be where he was currently.

“I am sorry for saying that you smell, which I did not mean in the way it came off, I am just really bad with my words. I meant you smell really nice.” His face was completely serious and there was no trace of mockery or jest. 

“I just- not to be a creep, I saw you on my first day here. At the school gates.” His eyes softened and his body started to fidget. He almost seemed—nervous? 

“I almost ran back to Tokyo that day. I wasn't really, well to put it simply, happy about the whole moving thing. And if you hadn't rushed past me that day, I probably would've gone with my plan.” He throws an easy smile in your direction. “If you hadn't dropped this—” He digs around his pockets and encloses something in his fist. 

“Maybe it would have been much harder for me and my parents to start off here. I am almost glad you dropped this little guy that day.” When he opened his fist, in the space between you two, there rested your lost keychain with the cat who reminded you of your dead pet cat. 

Upon the sight of your beloved cat (keychain), your mouth opened a little with an audible gasp. Your hand went up timidly to touch it on his palm, actively sending shivers down his spine at the brush of your fingertips. All he could focus his eyes on was your hand, not even daring to look up at your face, afraid of the state of his own face.

He was sure the heat he felt rushing up to his cheeks and ears, must have evidently turned his pale skin into a blushing mess. If only he was not so preoccupied with his own emotions, he would have noticed the first speck of tear forming yet again in the corners of your eyes, before it could even fall down. Which he only felt when he saw the droplets of water that landed on the palm of his hand, effectively making him snap his head back up to look at your weeping face. 

If he asked you then why were you crying? You would have probably just cried harder. So you were thankful that he did not ask. 

He did not bother to ask any questions but simply took you in his arms, burying your face in his chest, actively soaking his shirt in the shivering winds of spring—letting you cry about nothing and everything, in the arms of the guy who has been the source of your annoyance since the day he arrived. 

“You make no sense to me” your sobs became muffled through the fabric of his shirt and sweater vest.

“That is a weird way of thanking someone for returning the keychain which you clearly care a lot about.” he let out a soft giggle, trying to put you at ease. You pulled away from him, much to his dismay, looking only at the keychain he returned in the palm of your hands. 

“Well you did take over my rank, and eavesdropped on me getting humiliated.” if it was in his power, he would kiss away that frown and pout.

With that one passing thought, Gojo Satoru had the first epiphany of his life that day. The answer to the inclination he felt towards hogging away all your attention.

“Satoru?” He finally heard from the haze of realization and panic that suddenly hit him. What was he supposed to do now? How was he going to ever face you with these confusing feelings?

“Are you alright?” you seemed genuinely concerned for him. Which melted him. Again, if only he was not so preoccupied with the mess in his head and chest, he would have realized much earlier you just called him by his first name. For the first time ever. 

“Did you just call me by my first name?” he asked in genuine awe. While you shied away from him a little, which he found more endearing—this is an entirely biased perspective. 

“Also! I really did not mean to outdo you! I swear! I didn't even try that hard, and I was sure you were going to do way better than me. Believe me it was just a fluke.” he blabbered on in a frenzy. “Wow, way to show off Gojo.” you said playfully with an eye roll and half smile, just impressed by the lack of imperious tone in his voice. 

“No, I swear! Also i mean you have been looking really exhausted these days, maybe that is why, or else how can i ever beat you? I don't know, maybe because I am new. So they were like—’let’s give him this so he does not go around picking fights again’. Also come on you just called me Satoru what happened! No take backs.” you let out a big laugh at his silly rambling. “Goodness. Alright Satoru.” 

And he's all smiles with the sound of his own heart beating in his ears. 

“I will be taking back my spot from you. Keep it warm until then.” With those final words you stood up and walked away, the hand you used to give him a final pat on his shoulder—dragged off his shoulder with each step enlarging the distance between you two. The agonizingly lingering heat that it left behind, surely left a mark on his skin. It burnt, or perhaps shocked him—he was unclear which was worse.

One thing was clear as he watched you walk back into the building—he is in deep waters. And unfortunately he doesn't know how to swim.

It is truly beyond current Satoru, how teen Satoru's thought processes worked. Because how do you come to the conclusion that ‘i need to do everything in my power other than confront these feelings eating away at me.’ 

So after the confrontational and very heartfelt conversation with you, Satoru felt more powerless than ever at the mercy of the feelings you provoked within him. His head would feel light, chest would feel heavy, feet would go numb, and every moment he would get a whiff of your scent he could feel a threatening nosebleed. 

Actually once during PE you sat beside him after running, sweaty and out of breath. You had simply leaned over him to grab the water bottle by his side—and his nose started bleeding. Until then he never believed in the whole thing about getting a nosebleed because of being overwhelmed, he genuinely believed one needs to be punched real hard in the face or hit something face first with good impact to get a nosebleed. 

And now he stands corrected.

He wasn't sure whether it was the citrus, peonies, or the new found smell of your musk and natural odor which triggered the whole thing. Or maybe it was the worry you showed, scrambling to stop the blood dripping down his nose with your sweat soaked towel, tilting his head back with your hands and shouting for your PE teacher to come and help him—if only you knew all of it helped less and less. 

The whole thing made him realize that he needs to get a grip! 

And how did he execute that— by confiding in his friends? Making an effort to confess to you? No. He decided that it would be a brilliant idea to accept every confession he got and date as many girls as he could—to forget you, of course. 

In his defense, he liked what you two got going right now. He gradually grew really close to you; started with simple conversations and jokes to then a fully established friendship. At least he liked the thought of being your friend. 

He liked when you’d lean back in your chair to whisper little jokes to him, how the teacher completely fumbled that sentence. Or when you would give him candies, because you always carried some with you, or when you would come to him first before going to anyone else if you did not understand a lesson. 

He particularly liked when you would share a rambling synopsis of the books you were currently reading or recently finished, it did not matter how little he cared about the books itself. Mr. ‘could not stop yapping for the love of god’, went completely silent when he stood before you. He loved when you would bring him your latest creation in the kitchen, because you were trying to learn how to cook and it did not matter to him how salty or half cooked and fully burnt the food would be. It was the effort you put into asking him about his favorites and tried making it. Like the effort he put into not letting you get a clue about how much of a digimon guy he was, because he would rather hear you talk about pokemons to him for hours. Did not matter that he thought digimon was superior. 

Satoru might have been a popular guy since he joined; being extremely good looking, witty, academically gifted, part of the basketball team and having friends who were equally well known worked in his favor of being probably the most sought after guy in school. But that never made him a ‘player’, as one would assume. Often he would return the gifts he would get or politely decline confessions. So to everyone's surprise when he accepted the first confession, rumors went around—’maybe he was waiting for her to confess this entire time?’ Well, the rumors steered a different direction when she broke up with him within a week, and the next girl also broke up with him within a similar span of time. And when this pattern repeated for the rest of the year, people started labeling him as a cliche popular guy.

Around his sixteenth relationship, you happened to see him getting slapped real hard by the girl he was going out with at the time. They were talking behind the gardening shed, close to the Momiji tree you loved oh so dearly. All that shouting and cursing she did before slapping him, reached your ears, and as a diligent member of the student’s council you could not ignore it. The slap was echoing. She really left a mark on his cheeks, others have slapped him before for being so apathetic about everything, to get a one last satisfactory reaction out of him. But they have all failed at that. But this girl slapped him harder than anyone else had before her— while calling him a piece of shit for leading her on and wasting her time. So he got broken up with again. And he did not seem even a little bothered by this, his face only started contorting in a panic when his eyes landed on you standing the opposite way from the route his ex took to storm off.  

Which ended up making him run away from you, a new occurrence for both of you. And this time you had to be the one to chase after him. You found him in the stairwells, where you silently just sat beside him. This must be what they call deja vu. 

“So. long day huh?” you dragged each word awkwardly. 

“You don’t have to do this Y/n.” he said without even looking at you, just looking down at his hands intertwined with each other, on his lap. 

“Unfortunately for you, I want to. We are friends aren’t we?” you asked him expectantly. 

And Satoru only ever wished to be your friend. He liked being friends with you. If you called him your friend the day he went to your class to return that keychain he would have been ecstatic, but right now? Being called your friend felt like yet another hit to his heart. He wants to leap out of the bounds of friendship and hold you, tell you how much he loves you. “Yes we are.” Those three words felt like gravel ripping his own skin. 

“Then just hear me out won’t you?” and how can he say no to you looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes, and smiling lips. You can ask him for anything and he would not dare to deny. So naturally he nodded a yes wordlessly. 

“You don’t seem like yourself these past few months. I am worried about you— we are all worried.” he stared at you as you took a pause to continue, assessing whether or not he was getting pissed off. “I know how much it sucks to hear that you have changed or something like that. But I do not mean it like that—you have been more distant, and just- well, you seem off.”

“You do know that you can tell me anything right? Is there anything bothering you? Are some kids bullying you? Tell me their names, I will take care of them.” you said with squinted eyes and a raised fist like you were ready to beat up some kids for him. And the sheer idea of that image tickled a laugh out of him. 

“Sure you will shortcake.” he said in a fit of laughter. And you have never been more glad to hear him call you by that nickname. It has grown on you, similarly as he has grown on you. 

“I am fine, at least now that I am sure about something, I am fine.” he said with a sigh, like something heavy lifted off his shoulders. “You sure right?” you enquired again just for confirmation. 

“Yesssss, now stop furrowing your eyebrows, you are bound to get wrinkles before you are even thirty.” he was helpless to the smile that grew on his face, “wow way to thank the person who just cheered you up.” 

“Stop trying to copy me shortcake.” he bumped his head slightly on yours, causing you to gasp and bump your forehead to his—some sort of retaliation if you will. Cannot let him get away with the last word, can you? “Don’t bump your big head with mine! What if I catch your dummy disease!?” you said with your forehead still on his forehead. Faces mere inches away from one another. 

“Uh huh? And what are you gonna do about it?” Satoru has no idea where this was coming from or where this was going. But having you in such close proximity was definitely messing with his head. 

“I will-” you cut yourself off, staring back into his eyes, unable to continue whatever you were trying to say—something about his eyes, the shades of blue, lapis and cerulean, making you incapable of continuing. It is as if there dwelled an ocean in his eyes, and unfortunately you never took your swimming lessons seriously.  “What are you going to do, shortcake?”

Well, no one found the answer to that question, as the bell rang and made the both of you flinch away from one another. In a moment of awkwardness about whatever that inexplicable tension was, you both did the most expected thing— laughed it off and headed towards the classroom. 

Rest of the year passed with Satoru coming to terms with his feelings for you, hyping himself up to confess to you, and spending time with you. And somehow the both of you ended up getting the exact grades at the end of the year, ending up on the first rank together—something that was bound to happen when you are studying together, giggling in class together, eating together, feeding the cats who took a nap behind the school, together. Even when he was more of a dog guy. 

And, Satoru really liked the idea of being together with you. 

When senior year rolled around and he was determined to make you his by the time you guys graduated high school. Which is easier said than done.

Especially when he is not making any efforts other than just moving his pupils frantically between your lips and eyes, as you go on and on about the student body president’s new dumb mandate. His mind is probably looking at you with heart eyes, lying on its stomach, kicking its feet. Because it keeps repeating,

 ‘everyday baby, please say you're mine.’

It is a little embarrassing when he has to hide behind the bookshelves when you turn to look his way, because he would be piercing his longing gaze in the back of your head. Why did he not go up to the seat you were occupying at the library? Strike up an easy conversation; and have you offer him a seat with a smile, or get annoyed at him for talking too much and too loud in the library—he does not have the answer himself. All he knew while peeking at you from between the books in a nearby shelf, that his heart was palpitating like it may burst out of his chest any moment, and have the librarian come scold and shush it. 

Walking by the hallways near your favorite Momiji tree, to catch a glimpse of you under it, by skipping on practice was the usual at this point. His teammates and coach have given up. Does not mean he doesn’t have to face consequences for these acts of stupidity. Especially on the off chance you visit one of his matches and he goes full statue in the middle of running up to the basket, then as he gains his composure back, he goes full throttle on his opponents. To show off his shots and dribbles during the match. The team and the coach let it pass sometimes, only because it guarantees that they will win the match. But they always make sure to lecture him about abandoning them to push past the hoard of people congratulating him, to only get to you. With groans of collective clamour going, “just confess already.”

Satoru, to this day, still wishes it was that easy. It is not that he never tried.

First time he tried to confess, you two were simply sitting in class, at your desks. Your chair was turned around, so you could sit facing him. He had stayed behind with you after classes ended, to help you with council work. But the yellow, orange and pink hues of the setting sun on your face, was leaving his usual talkative demeanor to be tongue tied. And when you leaned forward on the desk to snap your fingers in face to hopefully get him out of the trance where he was drowning—in those milliseconds between you moving off your seat, looming over him, and looking straight into his eyes; he almost blurted it all out. If only it was not for Kento to walk into the class and enquire about the progress you made on the work, he would have laid it all out for you. 

That was not the only time he was teetering over the edge. One time you dragged him to the garden behind school during PE to feed the cats who take naps around there. He actually blurted out “I am in love.”

Which naturally had you snap your head in his direction, your surprise also had the cat lying in your lap surprised, that it also looked in his direction. So he backpedaled, defending his words by rephrasing them, “No! I mean, I am loving this. As in, like, not having to do PE class!” you laughed it off, joking that his poor choices of words and phrasing will definitely get him in deep trouble one day.

There had been so many instances he just almost verbalized his feelings, almost found that serenity in having you know the reason behind the ache in his chest, and the foggy fuzz clouding his judgment around you. But he only wishes he actually followed through with his emotions. Often he found his emotions to be stuck in a battle between his tongue and brain. 

After many such (failed) attempts, he finally decided to just lay it all out after the graduation ceremony. As he could not burden you with his feelings when he spent the entirety of the year dilly dallying so much that the finals and entrance exams were near enough to have students lose sleep.

Sometimes in his dreams, Satoru still dreams about the day of his high school graduation ceremony. He dreams of the very events that took place that day, and different possibilities.

He woke up much earlier than usual that morning. He did not want to be late at any cost. Not because he wanted to be there to hear the principal give the same old speech she gives every year or hear the student body president, Kamo Noritoshi, give out yet another speech, he has had enough of his boring speeches as well. He really just wanted to hear your valedictorian speech. 

He was glad he did not earn the highest GPA in his year— no, it was not because he did not want to give some stupid speech, though it was part of the reason. He was beyond happy for you, instead of gloating over his own GPA which made him come in second to you, he was more thrilled over you beating him to the first spot. He was so happy that day he literally hugged you so tight, your inner organs almost spilled out from the looks of it, going as far as to lift you up in the air and making a whole show out of it. Honestly from afar it would be confusing to conclude who exactly did better, though anyone who has lingered their eyes a bit too long on Gojo Satoru knew better, which was practically the entire school, it was not surprising to see him act as such. It was rather surprising he did not tie ranks with you, considering his capacity to ace anything and everything, especially academics. But it was ordinary to see him celebrate your wins much more loudly than everyone combined.

When you asked him the question how he did not get a higher GPA than you, later over celebratory ice cream with your friend groups. He just shrugged it off and simply told you that, “Eh. I just goofed around and had a fun senior year, considering these are the most memorable years of one’s life.” with a smug smile stretched across his face, accompanied by his raised shoulders. 

“Sure, it was totally not because you were feeling too lazy.” at this point you were all too familiar with Gojo’s pattern. And unlike in the past, you found it more fun to banter with his silliness than getting angry at his conceit. It was still annoying, but not as annoying as it used to be.

“Tch. Tch. Shortcake, you just do not get the concept of fun as well as you get the concept of natural selection. ”

Despite his claims he knew why he did not surpass you, well not because he granted you that position out of pity or his obvious feelings towards you. He respected you too much to one day have you find out your achievements were not well earned, it would eat him up otherwise. Though the reason still was you, or perhaps it was his pathetic attempts at winning you over and expanding the definition of your relationship with him. 

Anyway, currently he was sitting unsteady in the back of his father’s car, stuck in a jam, not giving ear to either of his parents reassuring him from the front that they will get there in time. But unfortunately for the Gojos, their son was not the patient kind. 

Which is exactly why they didn't object much other than a few shouts when Satoru ran out of the car, with his gown and graduation hat tucked under his armpits. Thankfully they were not stuck too far from the school, but Satoru was unfortunately late for his own graduation ceremony. When he ran inside the auditorium, the hall full of parents, students, teachers, and peers alike, were staring him down— maybe for rudely interrupting the principal's speech, or for looking drop dead gorgeous while sweating buckets; it was unclear.

He silently walked up to where his class was standing and took his place in the empty space left behind for him. The principal resumed with a cough, continuing whatever faux inspirational speech she may have been talking about. His eyes roamed around frantically to land on yours, staring back at him, scrunching and raising your eyebrows in a comical way. While pointing at your watch, silently reprimanding him for his tardiness, all Satoru could do was smile and shrug like a helpless kicked puppy. But as if that has ever worked on you, so you rolled your eyes at him with the shake of your head and mouthed at him to focus on the speech.

After that very boring speech, and handing out the certificates, followed by another boring speech by Kamo Noritoshi, it was finally time for your speech. 

When you stood waiting in the left wing of the stage for your cue, he could clearly see you nervously playing with your hands. Fortunately his intense stares had you looking in his direction, so he waved his hand a little to get your focus, and just wished you a silent ‘goodluck, you got this!’ through exaggerated mouth movements.

Was it cute? Or weird? Either way, it made you smile and ease up, and that's all that matters to him. He was probably the one cheering the loudest for you among everyone in there, your parents or friends or anyone, couldn't have dared to match his voice echoing through walls, to the point the teachers had to shut him up by the very end of your speech. Because he kept clapping or whistling really loud in between every pause. 

“At the end of the day, these years we've spent here will always stick with us. For better or for worse, and all I want, is to thank those people who made it bearable through all of it. And I hope you all have a future filled with achievements, celebrated alongside those people around you, who make it bearable. Thank you very much.” 

Satoru did not cheer the loudest this time around, his silence was drowned out by the loud cheers or the flying caps around him. He was too busy standing there, a hostage to your teary eyes, and a smiling face coming down the stage.

After a few very busy hours of hugs and pictures with family and friends, and some supportive words as well as teasing lectures from the teachers; Satoru went off to find you surrounded by few people. 

“Hey!” he came behind you and spoke in a breathy whisper in your right ear.

“Ah! Satoru! Oh my goodness I've been looking for you!” You slapped his arm lightly as he tried to say, 

“Listen, I-” “I need to speak to you. Come with me. Sorry, will you excuse us?” You dragged him by his left hand, tangled with your own right hand. It is not that he has never held hands, he's done plenty more than that, but your hands meant more. And he hopes you heard his heart beating through his hands, as you held onto it and dragged him to a random empty hallway.

“I suppose this works, I was gonna drag you away myself.” He lets out a little chuckle as he settles opposite you, facing you, “I wanted to-”

“I am moving away.” 

“What?” 

“I am moving out of the country. I, um, applied to this university abroad and they accepted me. It was not confirmed until last week, I've told almost everyone but.” You take a pause and stare down at his blank face, rid off the little shy smile and blush adorning him just a second ago, before continuing, “But, I just did not- I mean, I could not just figure out how I was going to tell you.” 

Satoru lets out a dry chuckle. “What's so hard about that? Come on shortcake. It's just me.” 

“I, I know. I mean-” this time he interjects.

“Are you happy?” 

You blink twice and answer, “More than I thought I would be.” 

‘Then that's enough for me.’ Is what Satoru meant to say then, instead he said something different.

“I am really happy for you Y/n. Will miss you shortcake.” He cracks a genuine smile, despite the storm waiting to unleash in his chest through the waterworks of his eyes, regardless he was still happy in your happiness.

When you leaped into his arms with a tight grip on his back, mumbling a choked up “I'll actually miss you more dummy.” 

“Nope can’t let you have this one too.” with a chuckle he patted your head as you cried in his arms for the second time since you have known him, once was one too many times for you but here you are. Perhaps this was the last time, he thought.

“Also, I want you to have this.” you handed him a keychain, similar to yours, but instead of an orange little cat, there was a white cat attached to it. “When I saw it, it reminded me of you.” You placed the little guy on his palm, and he closed his fist around it with every intention of cherishing it for eternity. 

“I’ll see you soon right?” You asked him, as you looked up at him with tear stains on your cheek, matching the stain on his shirt, and he just nodded with a tight grip around the keychain. Maybe he was too scared to verbally give you any promises, otherwise he would start breaking down much harder than you. But one thing he was sure about,

“You'll do great shortcake, you always have.”

‘As I will always love you.’

On days as such, filled with nostalgia. Or on nights spent staring at his ceiling, wide awake, clock ticking closer and closer to the next day— he thinks of you. He thinks about the different possibilities and the most regrettable moments of his life, and thinks, what if?

What if he had chosen a different line of work instead of taking over for his father? What if he went to that pop up shop before they sold out of their limited edition creps? Or what if he chose to go to that school reunion five years ago with Suguru and everyone else. Would he have met you? 

What if he had told you he loved you that day? What if he did not wallow in his own self pity and made a better effort at reaching out to you when you suddenly stopped contacting him during second year of University? What if he swallowed down the resentment over your silence and flew across the globe to you? Would not have been the first time he did that. It was the automated voice telling him that the number he dialed does not exist anymore, and the complete refusal from mutual friends to let him know about your whereabouts—that irked him. What did he do so wrong for you to even remove the little pleasure he enjoyed from having you at the very least as a friend. 

Maybe if he asked you selfishly to not move away altogether, things would have been different. But how could he, when he never had any concrete dreams of his own other than pursuing in his father's footsteps, to now take over for him. The way your eyes always shined bright with aspirations, and the amount of hard work you put into achieving them, made him try for himself.  

Then how could he have been selfish with the one person whom he selflessly gave away his heart to? 

“Sato! Come eat! Finish that later!” his mother shouted from inside, breaking the trance of reminiscence. “Yesss mom!” he shouted back to let her know.

And when he set to go inside, he felt something heavy on his legs. While cleaning the boxes, Satoru had gone to sit on the edge of the patio, with his legs hanging from his edge. The height was long enough to have him lose his sight about where his legs were below the knees to his feet comfortably touching the ground. 

When he crouched down to look at what was weighing him down, he found a white fluffy cat; clearly well taken care of, lying comfortably, belly up, on top of both of his feet. Set of blue hued pupils peeking out of his blinking eyes. And a smug smile of contentment on his face, either satisfied with his nap or from annoying Satoru. As cute of a look alike  this cat may have been to the one on the keychain you gave him—which he still uses everyday to hold all his important keyes—Satoru could tell that this cat was one big menace. 

“Meowwww” the feline wailed, when Satoru moved his feet off the ground to take a proper look at the creature. The cat in search of his confiscated comfort, crawled up his legs, up to his lap and made himself comfortable. 

Satoru leans back to rest his weight on both of his palms, placed on either side of his torso. He lets out a dry huff “Huh. aren’t you one spoiled little guy?”

“Meow.” the cat quips as if agreeing with Satoru, his eyes were closed, trying to get back his lost sleep.

“And what is your name?” Satoru asked the cat and felt foolish that very next instance. Instead of waiting for the cat’s response—because that will obviously not answer his question—he goes to check the yellow collar adorned on the cat’s neck to check for a nametag.

“ICHIGO!” a loud familiar voice cried behind the hedges that protected the view into his parent’s front yard. 

Upon hearing the call, the cat’s ears sprung up and went back, going alert. In a blink of an eye the cat ran off of his lap, out of their main gate— in what seemed like mere seconds. And his parent’s house is pretty huge, the patio to the front gate takes well over thirty seconds to get to when you are in a hurry. 

So Satoru ran behind the cat, well after it was gone from his sight, worrying it might run into something or hurt himself. But just as he stepped out of the gate, he saw the cat cuddled up in a person’s arms, who was crouched down in relief, obstructing the view to their face. Though the shade of the hair is much familiar to him just as the voice, but the length now shorter than how he remembers it to be. But that same citrus and peony scent remained, infiltrating his olfactory sense before his eyes could fathom the figure in front of him. Or maybe he did not want to believe the reality of the situation to begin with. 

“Never do that again! Do you know how scared I was? Why would you run after a butterfly like that!? I am never letting you off your leash again!” You held the cat out, away from your embrace, finally standing straight. Dangling him in the air by his arms, like some sort of punishment.

“Meowww” the cat whined in a pitiful tone, moving his claws in a way as if asking to be held closer again.

“No Ichi. No amount of whining is getting you out of this mister!” while reprimanding the cat, you forgot to acknowledge the person standing upfront.

“Y/n?” 

You look up to see who called you out in the middle of scolding your cat. To only see another ball of familiar white fluffy hair, and cerulean eyes, the ones you’ve once loathed with your entire being, and dreamed of countless nights. Standing a few inches taller than what his previously already behemoth height during teen years used to be.

“Satoru?” 

Both of you stood there confused and mesmerized by one another’s presence, to have run into each other under such coincidental circumstances, how fateful. With a more confused Ichigo looking back and forth between you two, now standing on his own four legs on the ground. Probably trying to solve the mystery of the heavy silence and air hanging between you two. From the looks of the mirrored shock, and open mouthed gasps that left your respective mouths—seems like this unanticipated meeting was long overdue.

The beauty of fate truly lies in such oblivious encounters. And those who sneak into your life just as unexpectedly, as they fade out wordlessly.

FIND OUT MORE ABOUT HS!SATORU

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tag list: @madamechrissy @cuntphoric @moonlitwitchdaisy @rriwyu @naomigojo @aishi-toru @cuntyji @arcanarix @fuwagojo @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @fushitoru @gojosoups @arcanarix @moonchhu @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @emyyy007 @ineedbetterhobbies0809 @littlemisswitch67

a/n: the above used images are from Pinterest, the Gojo one is from the s2 ending and the other two images, i could not find any exact sources so if you know where they are from please kindly let me know. the dividers are by— @/aquazero, @/kodaswrld @/cafekitsune & @/oldgifs4coding, respectively.

thank you to the pookies for beta reading this <3 really my longest work yet. yes it is a bit cliche but oh well. took a lottt of time to finish, first it was finals, then mental and physical health was at all time low, then literally burnt my hand. the part of the valedictorian speech the reader gave, was part of my own speech i gave at my graduation as the head girl, so if you found it shit i better not hear about it.

named her cat Ichigo, because well he calls her shortcake, and ichigo means strawberry. so strawberry and shortcake :3c

happy to have him out ^^ i hope you had fun reading this!! i have a few drabbles and such related to this i plan on releasing. still not sure if i plan to expand their ending :3c ahhh this was not going to be an open ending, but here we areeee

anywayyyy hope your enjoyed your stay ^^ make sure to share your thoughts in the ask box and comments.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Playing Chicken

Prompt Day 6: Chill | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Sexual Content | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Dry Humping, Making a Move, Getting Together, Eddie Just Needed to Borrow a Jacket

"It's chilly, wear one of mine," Steve says, and Eddie pauses at the front door.

Steve opens the hall closet and starts digging around. Pulling out jacket after jacket, more jackets than Eddie's probably owned in his entire lifetime.

"How many jackets do you think I'll need to wear at once?" Eddie asks, as Steve dumps at least twenty jackets over his arms. It's a heavy pile and he can barely see Steve over it.

"Two, usually. Just. I know you're picky. I don't know what is cool enough for you to wear," Steve says.

"Cool?" Eddie asks, laughing at the mere idea of Steve Harrington thinking he's cool. Eddie is not cool. Eddie's a freak. Eddie was wanted for a satanic murder spree he didn't commit. But cool? No way. 

Steve waves his hands around Eddie's torso, as if that's all the explanation needed.

"King Steve, the most popular guy to ever grace the halls of Hawkins High, thinks I'm cool?"

"Shut up, you're definitely cool."

Eddie isn't convinced of that, but he dumps the jackets on the staircase before he dislocates his elbows. He's not cool, but he is double-jointed.

He looks at the options available.

A brightly colored windbreaker, in teal and purple. Hard pass. An acid wash jean jacket that looks like it might belong to Steve's mother.

"Oh, that's Robin's," Steve says, picking it up and throwing it over his shoulder.

Three Members Only jackets in various neutral shades. Maybe. The bomber jacket from The War Zone. No fucking thanks. A bright blue satiny number that has a horseshoe on the front and Colts emblazoned across the back. Sports. Definitely not.

Oh, leather. And Eddie pulls on the black shoulder, only to discover it's got striped sleeves and bull on the chest. More sports. No. A down jacket. Ugly.

And then, buried in the mix, is Steve's letterman jacket. Green and white. Harrington stitched onto the back.

Eddie picks it up and holds it out between them.

Steve laughs, and moves to take it.

"Now, now, Harrington. I haven't made my decision yet."

Steve rolls his eyes, "Like you're gonna wear my letterman jacket in public."

"I might. It was offered."

"I also offered you my mom's windbreaker. You gonna wear that, too?"

"Maybe," Eddie says, picking up the offending windbreaker, shrugging it over his shoulders. It's tight, and Eddie's sure it looks ridiculous.

"Oh, that's the one," Steve says sarcastically, arms crossed over his chest.

It isn't and he has to wrestle himself back out of it, and afterwards, he snags the letterman jacket and slides it on. 

Eddie starts to laugh, but it dies in throat, as he sees the change in mood cross Steve's eyes. Eddie's freezes, a little scared. Then, he realizes what he's actually seeing. It's not anger.

It's arousal.

Holy shit.

Eddie turns, flaunting the back of the jacket towards Steve again. For science. 

Steve has squeezed both his hands into balled up fists.

"Problem?" Eddie asks, and Steve looks rigid. Uncomfortable. 

"No," Steve snaps, "That what you're wearing?"

"Maybe," Eddie says with a teasing lilt.

"Great, fantastic," Steve says, grabbing a handful of the other jackets, and starts hanging them back up.

There's tension in his body, and Eddie reaches forward and squeezes his shoulder. 

"Eddie," Steve warns, not turning around, "don't."

"What if I want to?" Eddie asks and Steve is even more still than he was before.

Steve ignores him.

Eddie pushes over the remaining jackets, sits on the stairs, lounging back, legs spread. He's teasing Steve. Getting his goat. 

But Steve's not laughing.

Steve leans down over Eddie, hands on either side of his shoulders, trapping him. Face close. Too close. They're playing chicken.

"Then I'm gonna enjoy it," Steve says, making a predatory move towards Eddie, brushing some of the jackets to the floor. Eddie instinctively scoots back, but knows he has nowhere to go. He's stuck.

Even if he wants to flee.

He keeps leaning backwards, but that just makes him more horizontal against the steps and Steve keeps closing the distance. 

Eddie feels too warm. From the letterman jacket he's now acutely aware he's wearing, from Steve being so fucking close, his body heat radiating. Eddie's caught between a rock and a hard place.

Hot, bothered and bewildered. 

"Do you really want to?" Steve asks, and Eddie isn't totally sure what Steve's asking. 

Wear the jacket? Run away? Fuck?

He thinks it's the latter.

He hopes it's the latter.

So, Eddie nods.

"Good," Steve says, pushing all the way into Eddie's personal space. Pressing his lips to Eddie's. 

Holy fucking shit.

Eddie's stunned, flabbergasted.

Steve slides his hand under the jacket, running his hand firmly along Eddie's ribs, before splaying his palm in the middle of Eddie's back, right where the embroidered Harrington was pressed between Eddie's shoulders. 

Steve's hovering over him, which is a good, because if he pressed any closer he'd find out just how much Eddie's appreciating this turn of events.

Of course, it's as if Steve can read his mind, because he presses down then, and Eddie's embarrassed for the two seconds it takes him to realize Steve's just as hard as he is.

Steve's kissing him, rutting against him in a slow, steady roll. Eddie moans into the kiss, unbelieving that this is happening. Steve breaks free, immediately burying his face in Eddie's neck. 

"It's fucking hot," he whispers, lips grazing skin, "knowing my name's on your back."

And Eddie wants him to see it.

He wiggles, shimmying, until he can roll onto his front. It's uncomfortable, his dick pressed against the staircase, face in the carpet. He's gonna get rug burn across his face like this, so he grabs the closest jacket and balls it up under his head.

Steve presses down, his hard cock rocking against Eddie's ass. Hand braced between Eddie's shoulder blades on top of the Harrington patch, and he says, "You're mine now, Munson."

For once, Eddie has no desire to argue.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🐔

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The night is long and torturous. When sleep comes, it's accompanied by the same man that invaded your waking hours. Thor is like a shadow, following you from one plane to the next. You wake in a sweat, disoriented and dull.

What are you going to do? Even if he wasn't a dangerous felon, you're no match for him. He's like if someone made a bear human. Despite how nice he can be, you fear the flip side of the coin.

You force yourself to get up as Andy's voice echoes beneath the thunder of Thor's. Your mom would flip if she found out. And do nothing. It's your problem, you're grown, just don't bring that around your siblings. She's with Andy for a reason; several.

A day off would typically be an occasion for delight. Everything is off. Everything is tainted by the consequences of your stupid action.

The idea of eating makes you want to puke. Getting washed up is a task on its own. You read about Marie Antoinette in her cell and the looming threat of the guillotine. Is this how she felt?

Light blue jeans and a tiered lilac top. It would be cute in any other context.

You don't know when but you know he's coming. He promised. He made many promises and you never took those seriously. Now you know just how committed he is.

It's absurd. He has to see that right? You're too young. You're naive. He needs someone who can relate to him. Someone who isn't terrified.

The doorbell rings as you pace in circles. Shoot. Ugh. You see him on the little smart screen.

You freeze for a minute. Fight or flight has you stuck in the middle. You make yourself move. You have no fight but also nowhere to run.

You open the door and let out a gurgling noise. He's surprised you again. Not as frightfully as that first encounter, but still. Thor wears a tidy button up in a shade of pale blue and navy slacks. His hair is braided along the sides and drawn back into a low pony. He smells like fancy pine cologne. Your eyes go wide.

"My queen," he offers you a tiny gift bag, dwarfed by his large hands.

"Um, hi," you take it by the ribbon handles with a trouble furrow in your brows.

"While you always look stunning, might I ask you to change into something more...than casual?" He smiles sheepishly. "I have many surprises and I would have you in style."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I just... threw this on," you look down.

"It is no trouble. I only thought you would want to match your gift," he gestures to the gift bag.

"Ermmmmm," you drag out the fizzy murmur.

You reach into the bag and take out the ivory box. Your stomach storms furiously. You pull open the lid on the hinges to reveal a ruby necklace. The heart-shaped stone is trimmed in diamonds. You blink and babble.

"It's so... pretty, but I can't--"

"My queen, please, it would be a great honour to have you wear it," he insists. "Might I?"

He opens his large palm. You stare at the deep lines and gulp. You carefully pull the necklace free and hand it over.

You turn and he steps closer to drape it around your neck. It rests along your clavicle as he clasps it. You're no great judge but you think it's real. Did he steal it?

"Thank, er... I'll go find something to go with it," you draw away as he tickles your neck.

"As ever, I shall patiently await my queen," he assures.

The bag crinkles as you face him again, "can I meet you at the truck? I don't want you standing out here that long."

"It is no trouble--"

"Please, I would feel bad," you plead.

He touches his chest, "aw, my queen, you do treat me well. Yes, I shall wait for you there."

You nod and watch him go before you retreat inside. You hurry to the guest room and shove away the bag. You sift through your bag. You didn't really bring anything fancy... Wait.

You trip out of the room and head down to the basement. Your mother holds onto everything. You clamour down to the basement and push through the hangers. It's not your fave and she chose it, but your semi-formal dress hangs amid the forgotten thread. You really don't think it goes with the necklace but it will have to do.

You change quickly and steel some of your mom's shoes and a thin white shawl. You probably don't look any more ready than you feel. As you come out, clutching your purse against your side, you catch your breath. You lock the door and brace yourself.

You come down the walk as Thor stands up straight from leaning on his truck and touches his hair to check that it's in place. Oh gosh, what've you done?

This man is delusional. Sure, you helped build that fantasy, but for him to take it this far? You feel sick.

"My queen," he opens the door.

You smile and let him help you into the truck. The dread settles with you in the seat. He shuts the door gently as you look down at your hands. You busy yourself by buckling the seat belt.

He gets in and you peer down the street with wide eyes. He reaches over to pet your knee, "that colour is wonderful on you. You always are perfect, darling." He leans over and kisses your cheek. He squeezes your knee with his large hand, fingers swirling on the bare skin. He growls. "How I dreamt of this. Of you. When I was locked up. But now I'm free, we are free, and together."

You put your hand on his and squeak, "Thor."

"I understand now. It is new to you. I wish you'd said. But now I can take it slow for you, my kitten."

He kisses your cheek again and rescinds his hand. He grips the wheels and you watch his knuckles pale. Your throat constricts as if his fingers are around your neck.

"Um..." you shrink into the seat, "where are we going?"

He chuckles, "it's a surprise."

You twitch. This is how those true crime shows start. Your lips tremble but you keep your smile in place. He pulls away from the curb.

"Okay, but er, you know, my stepdad is very... strict and I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on the house, so I can't stay out long," you explain as you mash your palms together.

"Your stepdad. Hm. Yes, he seems controlling."

"Well, you know, he's just... particular," you shrug.

"Mm, it makes sense," he nods.

"Makes sense?"

"Yes, why you thought to try to block me. To deny our love," he clucks. "You speak of this man as he is. A dictator. Well, I am your king, he will not keep me from my queen, so you needn't worry for him."

You don't argue. It's a better explanation than you had and if he knew the truth...

"I don't know the man and yet he makes my blood hot. I could throttle any who would stifle you, my queen," he snarls. "As I have sworn to myself to always keep you safe. And close."

You cringe. You remember his long rambling emails. You skimmed a lot of those flowery monologues. You assumed he read a lot of poetry in jail. What else did he have time for?

"Please, be calm, and yourself," he glances over at you. "No need to be scared, my queen. Not ever."

🩷

Your confusion mounts as you watch the grand house rise before you. The property is maintained; trimmed hedges, marble statues, a fountain, a drooping blossom tree akin to some whimsical fantasy movie.

It's unlike anywhere you've ever been. How would Thor know of this place? Are you trespassing?

You peek at him nervously as he pulls his bright red truck in behind the luxurious ivory and gold car. You search around for anyone to come calling intruder. Thor gets out as you're too reluctant to move further. He comes around and opens the door. As you step down, his hand around yours, his name booms in the air.

An older man with white hair marches over in a velvet jacket over a sleep shirt. He's eccentric with his long white hair and bird-headed can.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns," the man proclaims, "and he has brought... fresh meat?"

You squirm as you look between them.

"Father, she is not to be spoken of such," Thor warns.

His father? Your mouth falls open.

"Odin," the man offers his hand. "And you must be wildly out of your mind."

You open and close your lips. He laughs and you finally unclench your hand to shake his. He squeezes firmly and brings your hand up to kiss the back.

"So, has she read the court report yet? Is she aware?" Odin chirps.

"Father, I am reformed," Thor snatches your arm back. "You needn't mock me so. I've done my time. She knows this."

"Does she? She is rather young. How much can she know?"

Your brows rise up and down. You're speechless. This is both awkward and humiliating.

"Come then, your mother has been fussing over breakfast all morning. It is why I had to flee the house. You get your madness from her," Odin mutters as he turns.

He walks airily despite the cane, swinging it more than he uses it. Thor holds your hand as he pulls you along. Maybe your family isn't so weird.

Odin whistles as he swings the door open and enters. Thor squeezes and you fear he might dislocate something. You squirm and he lets up.

"Oh, the love of my life, where are you?" Odin calls out, his voice echoing along the high ceilings.

Your eyes rove around the extravagant decor. Refined but not stuffy. Elegant with subtlety. You could only aspire to be any of those things.

You can't help but wonder how he got locked up. By the looks of it, his family is wealthy. Better off than your own. Your mother is comfortably middle class but she's stingy as heck. Andy is worse.

"In here," a trill sounds through the large doorway with the curling detail over the archway.

Odin strides through and Thor drags you in to see the older man kissing a blond woman on the cheek as she juggles a covered tray. "Oh, you rogue."

He purrs and keeps his arm around her as she sets her armful down. Her eyes brighten as she looks in your direction and they flick between you and Thor.

"Oh, my son! You've brought her!" She claps her oven mitts together. "And she is absolutely stunning."

She sweeps out of her husband's embrace and around the large square island. She brings the warm mitts to your cheeks and presses a kiss to your forehead. She holds you at arms length and admires you.

"My, my, so lovely," she praises. "And you're with my son?"

Thor grumbles, "mother."

"Well..." she shrugs and pulls away, then wraps her son in a hug. He wraps his arms around her as she turns her ear to his chest. She giggles as her green eyes flash. "His heart is racing. He must be in love."

"Mother," he gently nudges her away. "You're embarrassing me."

"I embarrass myself," she turns to you again, "Frigga, darling, and you?"

You peek up at Thor before you give your name. She repeats it, rolling it over her tongue.

"Just as beautiful as the rest of you," she turns and taps away in her heels. You don't know how a woman her age has so much energy. "Oh, and have you heard from Loki, Odi?"

"You know his excuses. Work. A very busy man," the white-haired patriarch shakes his head.

"My brother," Thor explains in a whisper.

You nod. Does it make much of a difference?

"My son tells me you've been a wonderful support. Gods know he has always been such a handful," Frigga arranges a silver tea pot and porcelain saucers on a tray. "Even after they put him away, oh, it was awful. When I called, they told me he was not permitted to take his calls." She hums in disappointment and sends Thor a sharp look. His shoulders slump. "I didn't raise him like that. I want you to know, I've only ever taught him to respect women and I do hope he treats you as well as you treat him."

"Mother, you know I would never," Thor insists.

"Oh, and you promised you would not go to prison. Yes, I see how that panned out," she sniffs. "Ah, but let us not cling to mistakes. Let us move on." She smiles at you as she lifts the tray. "I know, dear, that you will fix him. From what I hear of you, it cannot be any other way."

Heat crawls up your neck. What has Thor told them? How can you live up to expectations when you don't even know what they are?

"Um, may I help with that?" You offer as you near her.

"Oh, but you are a guest," she chimes.

"Really, it's no problem. All this food smells delicious. It must be a lot of work," you insist. "It's the least I can do."

You take the handles of the tray as she relents. You hold your smile and turn. You don't let the facade fall until you're out of the room. She calls after you that the dining room is left not right. You correct your path and bit the inside of your lip.

You're really not that helpful but you'll take the excuse to get away. If even just a few minutes.

[sabsturned]

M. Sturniolo - Three Doors Down

SEE PINNED POST FOR NAVIGATION

comment on this post to be added to my taglist :-)

pairing: matt x fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of a drinking and smoking parent, crying

summary: you and matt used to be best friends. you were closer to him than anyone else you know, and you’ve always secretly had a crush on him. the day you told him, you guys stopped talking. tonight was prom night, and you had no guys or even friends to go with. all you could do was sit in the corner and watch him dance with his girlfriend, sofia.

a/n: first fic!!! i’m rlly excited about this one. it’s based off of the song ‘three doors down’ by joy. this was my shit in 2022 and i don’t get why it wasn’t talked about more. ALSO I HAVE A QUESTION: what are anons??? also please leave requests for fics!! i’m literally out of ideas. THATS IT!! enjoy the fic :))

key: matt y/n sofia

and i’m in the corner

dying of boredom

catching light from the shine

of his girlfriend’s tiara

me and matt were best friends. me and the boy three doors down. i mean, the best word to describe us was inseparable. we hung out all the time—at school, at home, over the weekends, at parties—everywhere i went, he went, and everywhere he went, i went.

it started when we were both eight years old. i was trying to avoid my mom at all costs because when she drank, she got mean. i went outside, picking all the small white flowers out of the ground. maybe if i gave my mom flowers, she would cheer up, and she wouldn’t hurt me. at least that’s what i thought.

i picked a yellow dandelion, adding it to my bouquet of flowers when i saw a boy around my age riding on a skateboard. he was riding it on circles in his driveway. suddenly the only thing my eyes were looking at was his curly brunette hair. his eyes were a beautiful color of blue. not as deep as an ocean, but not as light as the sky. all i knew was that they were perfect and they consumed me. his cheeks were a shade of red, probably because of the humidity. i’ll never forget the way he looked at me for the first time; the way his eyes lit up, the way his smile widened, showing off the dimple on his left cheek, the way the world around us faded.

his hand slowly moved up, waving at me. my smile grew. i waved back.

whenever my mom started drinking, i just went outside, where he was every afternoon on his skateboard. he tried teaching me to ride it, but i wasn’t very good. we played in his backyard with his brothers and their dog, trevor. sometimes they brought out their sprinkler on a really hot day, and we all just played like kids. i would give anything to be a kid with them again.

when we were in the same homeroom for third grade, we were both ecstatic. we were always partners in group work, always played together at recess, always ate together at lunch. everybody always made fun of us, and assumed we were dating or something. but we didn’t care.

everything was perfect. up until eighth grade. ever since me and matt met, i’ve always kind of liked him. i never really had the courage to tell him, up until the day before our eighth grade dance.

i confessed my feelings for him. i didn’t say much really. i just told him i liked him and asked if he wanted to go on a date. but i don’t think he felt the same.

he said he was busy.

all contact was cut after that. no more late night calls, no more weekend sleepovers, no more study sessions after school.

and it’s all my fault. i ruined everything. if i wouldn’t have said all of that, we wouldn’t have been here. we would have still been friends. we would have gone to prom together. we would have been falling asleep on call together. we would have still been as inseparable as we were when we were kids.

all of this was my fault.

now i’m at prom. the speakers blasted a pop song i don’t know the name of. all of the kids in the room were dancing, jumping around, making out in the bathroom, but i was sitting in the corner.

i would have gone home, but i was trying to avoid being near my mom at all costs. so i was just there, dying of boredom.

i caught a glimpse of her tiara. the plastic gems glistened in the dim light of the room. how was sofia able to wear cheap plastic on her head and still manage to look absolutely beautiful.

i’m so jealous of sofia. she’s a cheerleader. she’s skinny, she’s pretty, she won prom queen, and worst of all, she was matt’s girlfriend. we have had some interactions before, and i hate talking about her negatively because she is so incredibly sweet. like i’ve never met a popular girl so nice. it made it harder to hate her the way i wanted to.

her silky straight hair ran down her back, and her wide smile could light up a whole room. her dress was fabulous too. it was a really pretty shade of lavender, and it was sparkly. it complimented her figure so well. i mean, she looked like an absolute goddess.

her hands were wrapped around matt’s neck as they danced to the slow music playing. it hurt so bad. i should be over matt by now, i mean, it’s been four years. but i wasn’t over him. i wasn’t over his curly brunette hair, his beautiful blue eyes, the dimple that appeared on his left cheek whenever he would smile. i wasn’t over our late night phone calls, our weekend sleepovers, our study sessions after school. i wasn’t over him. and i never would be.

watching them dance together made me sick. the eye contact, how touchy they were. i decided to go get some punch to distract myself. i wanted to go home so bad, but a broken heart was less noticeable than the burn mark of a cigarette.

the loud music drowned out the sound of the punch splashing into the red cup. i turned around to go back to the corner i was sitting in, when a tall figure bumped into me. thankfully, i didn’t spill any punch on my dress.

“oh, sorry. i should have been watching where i was-“ my breathing stopped when i realized who i had just bumped into. his curly brunette hair, his beautiful blue eyes. matt.

“that’s alright-“ he stopped talking when he saw me. “oh, um, hey.” he said, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“hi.” i responded.

“you look.. amazing.” he complimented.

“oh, thanks. you too.”

“are you having fun?” no. not when she’s the one you’re dancing with. not when i’m still thinking about you even after all these years.

“yeah, just hanging out with my friends. a night to remember.” i lied.

“yeah.” he laughed.

there was a moment of silence where we just looked at each other. the first time i’ve looked in his beautiful blue eyes in years. the first time we’ve had an interaction in years.

“hey baby, they’re playing my favorite, c’mon!” sofia ran over, grabbing chris by the arm, giving me a small wave before dragging him back to the dance floor.

“nice seeing you y/n.” he voiced, before him and sofia continued dancing together.

i tried to say something back, but nothing came out. i forgot how to speak, i forgot how to breathe. before i knew it, the tears were already falling out of my eyes.

i needed to leave. thankfully, i only live a few blocks from the school, so i could just walk home. the only thing i could think about was how i just needed to be anywhere else but this school.

i shoved open the doors, walking out into the cold rain. it was pouring outside. normally, i really liked rain. me and matt used to lay in the rain together. it’s where we had our most meaningful conversations, and shared our deepest thoughts. but i wasn’t enjoying it right now. every drop felt like cupid pulling an arrow out of me. i rushed home as quick as i possibly could, the rain soaking my hair, and the tears rushing down my face. i actually couldn’t even tell if i was crying anymore. the rain made it hard to tell.

i was able to sneak past my mom so she wouldn’t see i went out. i ran up the stairs and into my room, quietly shutting the door behind me. i let out loud sobs into my hands, my rain soaked body dripping rain into a puddle beneath me. i looked up and saw the picture we made in fourth grade art class together, my sobs growing louder. i looked next to it. a signed baseball from a game we went to together sat on the shelf, along with a scrapbook of our seventh grade summer. suddenly, my room was filled with memories of us. i need to destroy it all.

i took the canvas off of the wall, grabbing my scissors and stabbing it until you couldn’t see the picture anymore. i took the scrapbook off of the shelf, ripping out the pages, cutting them into small pieces. i grabbed the baseball, opened my window, and threw it. i didn’t see where it landed. i was just glad it was out of my sight. i ripped the cards and gifts he made me for my birthdays, and christmas, and valentine’s day, ripping and cutting them up. then the stuffed bear he got me. my favorite animal. i cut that open, ripping out the stuffing. until nothing else was left. i sighed, my sobs growing louder.

i looked down and noticed my heels, stained with punch. the rain should have washed it off. the punch reminded me of him. i must have missed when it fell out of my cup and onto my shoes. i kicked them off, throwing them under my bed.

i looked down at my dress, noticing the color of it. it was the same shade of blue as his eyes. his beautiful blue eyes. i groaned out loud, ripping my dress off and throwing it in my closet. everything reminded me of him. the clothes i wore when we hung out, the sheets we laid in, the desk he sat at while we talked for hours, the rug we sat on when we played board games, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the window, everything. it was like he was a memory that i couldn’t get rid of.

but maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. maybe we aren’t meant to have late night phone calls. maybe we aren’t meant to have weekend sleepovers. maybe we aren’t meant to have study sessions after school. maybe we just aren’t meant to be. maybe he belongs with sofia. maybe we aren’t supposed to be together, me and the boy three doors down.

angst is one of my favorite things to write. it’s so therapeutic to me. so i hope you enjoyed this and please give me your feedback in the comments! :D

- thanks for reading!! with love, sabrina 🤍🎀

taglist:: @muchloveforhacker @saartjuhh @anonymousmfs @mylove4lana @chrissfavhoe @sturniolo101 @h3arts4harry @hereforthwtripletsfr @pepsixchris @ch3rrywine-reposts @amaliarosewood @gwennybenny @memea32221 @urfavstromboli

[dorabellingham]

Dinner plans

warning: none

characters: jude x mom!reader

summary: when your baby is too fussy to let you go to dinner

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Madrid, Spain — October 10, 2024.

The sun was already setting on the Madrid skyline, coloring the sky with shades of orange and pink. You were in front of the bedroom mirror, adjusting the long navy blue silk dress you had chosen for the special night. The thin straps highlighted your delicate shoulders, and the fabric flowed softly to the floor, making you feel elegant, even though a part of you was worried at home.

—You look beautiful, sweetheart.

Jude said as he entered the room, stopping for a moment to appreciate you. He was neatly dressed, wearing an impeccable white suit that highlighted his athletic build. His hair was casually styled, and the woody scent filled the air around you.

You smiled slightly, but there was a glint of concern in your eyes.

—Thank you, Jude... but I don’t know if we should really go. Benji is so moody today.

Your husband came closer, placing his hands on your shoulders, the warm and familiar touch trying to convey comfort.

—Hey, everything will be fine. Martina is already on the way, and he'll be fine with her. We need this time just for the two of us, don't you think?

You nodded, but your gaze went straight to the next room, where your baby was mumbling softly in his crib, his little arms stretched up high, as if searching for his parents. He was going through a difficult phase, too clingy to let go of you, and every time he left he seemed more defiant.

—I know, I know... it's just that he's been more attached lately, I don't know what's going on. —You sighed, releasing the air that seemed trapped in your chest. —Maybe it's just a phase.

Jude smiled understandingly and continued to run his hands over your shoulders, giving you a good feeling.

—It certainly is. And he'll get used to it soon. Besides, we're not far away, we'll just have dinner and be back before he notices.

You turned to him, touching the knot of his tie gently, as if that small action could distract from your worries.

—He knows when we’re not here. You’ve seen how he’s gotten more agitated since we started getting ready, Babe.

At that moment, Benjamin’s soft crying increased in intensity, turning into a continuous whine, as if he knew his parents were about to leave. You moved away from Jude, hurrying towards the baby’s room.

When you arrived, you found him lying in the crib, his little face red and his little hands clutching the blanket.

—Oh, my little boy.

You whispered, taking your little baby in your arms. Immediately, he calmed down a little, but sobs still escaped between heavy sighs.

Bellingham appeared right behind, watching both.

—He just wants to be held, babe. You’re his comfort.

Jude's voice was soft, but with a touch of contained frustration, because he knew how much these moments affected his wife. You rocked Benji gently, feeling his small body fit against his.

—I know, but it feels wrong to leave him like this.

—Do you think if we don't go he'll sleep better?

Jude asked, trying to find a solution. He understood your concern, but he also wanted to provide a special moment. You looked at him with an uncertain expression and Benji groaned, grabbing yiur dress as if holding on with all his strength. Jude sighed, feeling his son's resistance, but also understanding that they needed this time together.

—Maybe we can postpone the reservation for a little longer, until he calms down?

—Do you think they'll let us? It's a super busy restaurant, Jude...

You asked, already mentally preparing yourself to give up on the idea of ​​dinner.

—I'll call them, explain the situation. It'll work out.

The taller one answered, already taking his cell phone out of his pocket and moving away a little to make the call.

While he was solving the problem, you continued to calm Benjamin, who was now calmer in your arms, his little brown eyes slowly closing. You rocked him from side to side, the gentle rhythm making the baby snuggle even closer against his mother's chest. A small, affectionate smile appeared on your lips as she watched him.

—You know you can let mommy and daddy go out, right? Just for one night?

You whispered, kissing your son's forehead.

Jude came back a few minutes later with an expression of relief.

—I managed to postpone it in an hour. That way we can spend a little more time with him and leave when he's asleep.

You smiled, relieved, and blew a kiss in the air followed by a wink at him.

—You're the best, darling!

He shrugged, sending a kiss and a weak wink back.

—I’m good at negotiations, it’s part of my job.

You laughed softly, still rocking Benji. Jude came closer again, putting his arm around you and looking at his sleeping son.

—Now, let’s enjoy this little time with him, and then we have our night. Fair enough, right?

You nodded, feeling Jude’s warmth and love beside you. The baby finally fell asleep completely, his body relaxed in his mother’s arms. You sat together on the couch in the living room, Jude with an arm around you, both of you watching Ben breathe softly, his face angelic and peaceful.

—Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever be able to have time for just the two of us again.

You confessed in a whisper.

Jude squeezed your arm lightly.

—We’ll find that balance. Benjamin is our priority, but we also need to take care of ourselves. This night is just a reminder that we are still us, Y/n. And that all of this is only getting more special.

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words and the truth in them.

—Yeah... you’re right.

You were silent for a few minutes, enjoying the momentary peace before finally getting up to get ready again. When Benji was safe and sound asleep, with the babysitter already at the ready, you left the house, knowing that, despite the challenges, this night was for you —a little piece of time just for them, amidst the rush of being parents.

[ardensregias]

look at me

yandere!aventurine x gn!reader, manipulation, hypnosis, reader's mom is mara struck, sfw with suggestive ending.

"...that's too risky, i cannot afford to gamble with my own mother's life."

your mother has been struck by mara, causing her to slowly lost her sanity. the severity hasn't reached the point of no return, and you have given her treatments—which works quite well, with the cost of occasional memory loss. and you have been traversing the stars to find a cure, which leads you to penacony.

meanwhile, aventurine smirks at you, as if already expecting that answer. what a kind soul, he thinks. which will make it more fun to corrupt.

"i understand how important she is to you, which is why i'm generously offering you this new and more effective treatment—one that has 75% success rate." the gambler says, bringing his gloved hands up to take off his glasses, accentuating the pretty colors of his eyes, the kind of eyes that only sigonians have, though his are devoid of life and light.

he place the pink shades down on the table, before adding, "also, the IPC is currently researching on a possible remedy for mara, and i can just gave it to your mother for free."

you bit your bottom lip, unsure and scared. but the possibility of the treatment actually succeeds in removing your beloved mother's pain, the possibility of her smile blooming once more...

before you can speak further, he leans even closer and toy with the collar of your shirt, "all for the small price of keeping me company for the next month." his hands slowly creep up towards your chin, grabbing it to make you face him.

you look up, immediately becoming mesmerized at the beautiful shades of pink and blue of his eyes. you begin to feel a strange tingling sensation, slowly running down your entire body the longer you stare.

"what's your answer, then?" the senior manager tilts his head, using his gloved thumb to caress your bottom lip. although he may appear calm in the outside, he's secretly holding the urge to pounce on you right then and there.

aventurine's smirk turns into a full-blown grin when he notices how you start to relax. with this, he's sure that you'll come around sooner or later. your expression, slowly turns from hesitation to obedience agreement.

the hypnotizing power of aventurine's eyes are slowly affecting you, putting you in a trance and coaxing you to obey his every command. and it's not like you can look away if his index and thumb are holding your face in place.

"alright, since you insist..." you reply in a low voice, naively unaware of his manipulation. aventurine thinks of how you're such an easy target, and how he should've done this sooner.

"good." his grin is replaced by a relaxed smile, and aventurine's other hand moves to click on the holographic screen beside him, confirming the payment for your mother's treatment. it seems that spending billions of credits at once barely affect his bank account's balance.

aventurine thinks of how a mere business trip can turn out so much more interesting after having met you. he'll have to thank diamond later for assigning him to this project.

"now then, shall we move to my private quarters? we shall discuss the terms during your time accompanying me." his arms curl around your waist and drag you with him, flashing a cocky smirk at you.

"after all, you have to know how to satisfy me if we are to become partners, right?"

[beartitled]

ur au inspired me alot so have this writings I made based off of ur evil cipher parents au...

Bill cipher was SUPPOSED to be a normal Euclidean. A normal triangle. Despite his color not being right and he was practically blind in his 2d world.

All he knew about his parents was that his mom was a lovely deep blue, and his father was a wonderous shade of red.

And he was okay with that.

Atleast he could stare at the stars as his mother's voice lulled him to sleep.

.. he swore he saw a group of stars moving… It looked weird, it was a line with a dip down at the back end, and what looked like a trapezoid(he believes that's what trapezoids look like, it was hard to see anyone else in the first place) on the front end.. it was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

"Ma.. Some stars are moving…" Billy said, his voice a soft mumble.

"Billy, there's nothing there moving… I promise.." Billy's mom said, her voice silky smooth.

Billy hummed in reply, just watching the bundle of stars move in such an odd way.. then there was one that looked like one of the star shaped people he's somewhat seen, but it had a trail coming from the back. The two bundles paused, as if they were staring at him.

It was.. unnerving.

"Ma..?" Billy called quietly. There wasn't any reply. Mom must've left already.

Billy didn't want to bother her. So he just watched the two bundle of stars.. Until they got closer. They weren't stars.

They looks so weird.

He was scared- it was so scary- he suddenly wanted to be normal- to have an eye where it's supposed to be-

One of the giant things reached down and carefully scooped him up-- Billy gasped loudly as he was lifted up-- he could see so much MORE. He could see the two giant things he originally thought were stars.

They were.. 3D. He had thought no such things could exist!.

But if they were here, why did they pick him-- Was it because he could see them?

Billy whined softly, Glancing around nervously for some sort of escape. But there was none.

"Billy?" He heard his mom say, "Billyy? Where are you?"

Billy Desperately wanted to tell his mom he was still here- he just couldn't describe it.

"Mabel what do we do now-?" The first giant said, the one with the line and trapezoid thingy on the front on their forehead. The other had no markings, but he could tell that they were the star shaped bundle of stars.

"Just kill him- like.. like Grunkle Ford said.. to.." The star said.

The trapezoid with a line frowned, Shaking its head.

"I'm not gonna kill him, he's.. so small.."

"Then what?"

".. surely Grunkle Ford wouldn't mind if we take him home?"

Billy didn't understand what they were saying.

"BILLY??" Mom called out, much louder.

"I'm here, Ma." Billy replied. But mom didn't seem to hear him. So he tried saying it louder. "Here, Ma."

Still, nothing. Next thing he knew, he felt so odd, he didn't feel right.

He could move more. Everything wasn't hard to see, he could TURN.

..

"That was just a dream, Bill."

pls enjoy :3

Awwww thank you ❤️ Glad my comic inspired you to create this is so sweet 🥹

I love the atmosphere ✨ You can feel the unease 👀

Also MABEL?????? HOW ARE YOU SO BRUTAL? Don’t kill da baby D:

I know it’s a nightmare and it would be really fitting tbh (I think Bill would be paranoid/have anxiety about Pines now liking him) (if Pines have the memories present, there would be discomfort vibes between them)

But still

Mabel would never 😭 would she? 😭

Oh and 💥 this was Bill’s POV probably huh

Also forgot to mention it in part 3 💥

A person wrote a great short fanfic about how “normal” Bill would meet his parents (with a happy ending :D)

They didn’t want to share it publicly, I respect the decision so not tagging them

But just wanted to say that I really appreciate your fan works fellas 💕

It’s a delight to read your fanfics, makes me happy to know that people like my silly comic so much that they were inspired to create 🥹

[undercovercameron]

sunspent

summary: you're relaxed and calm in the obx summer heat, and rafe simply cannot have that.

notes: filthy filthy filthy! sorry not sorry bout it. also minor obx 3 spoilers; ie his parents are on that damn island and its just him in their big ole house. semi public sex kink and def a choking kink beware or be scared! i truly cannot write anything without that damn hand around reader's throat.. that's my b. enjoy! also thank you so much for all the love on my fics and the followers... so excited for all i will write in the future and so incredibly full of love from you guys <3

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 2542

The whole day had been perfect. 

You woke up around 9:30, brushed your teeth, and went downstairs to have some oatmeal. By 10:30 you were in a bikini and setting out a towel on the back deck. 

The sun was fairly hot, but the early warnings of a storm gave a cooler breeze. Your towel was in the perfect spot between the shade where you could get full sun coverage without moving too much. 

Gentle music was playing from your speaker, something that sounded like what your mom listened to in highschool, and a couple vodka seltzers laid unopened in a small cooler for you to enjoy later. You were also halfway through a mystery book, and between the pages of every chapter you let the time drift away from you. 

The most relaxing part of the start of your day? Rafe had left the house around 9 and had yet to return by the time you cracked open your seltzer at 1 o’clock. No ranting, no typical Rafe-isms— just sunshine and Paula Abdul. You wished he was able to do this with you. 

It was so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep a little more than halfway through your drink, head resting on your folded arms. 

“Y/N.” Something rigid and distinctly shoe-like nudges your arm. “Baby.”

You just groan and turn over onto your back, arms following to protect your eyes from the sunlight. 

“Hi,” you croak, squinting, and peer up at him. He looks like the Statue of Liberty in this light— if the statue of liberty wore light wash jeans and slutty little beer brand t-shirts. (So on brand for him.)

“How long have you been out here?” He asks, bending to pick up what’s left of your seltzer for one final swig. 

“Since like 10:45.” Your face breaks in a yawn and your arms fall to the deck as your eyes get used to the light. A smile creeps onto your face. “What’ve you been doing?” You sit up on your hands, scanning his body. He looks kinda sweaty. 

“Um,” he starts, scratching at his forehead with a sigh. “Buncha shit. Went into a couple places to close Ward’s accounts with them—oh, I saw your mom at Cold Stone by the way.”

“Why were you at Cold Stone?” You grin, crossing your legs and pushing at his calf with your foot. He makes an innocent face, hands on his hips. He looks to the trees, playfully exasperated.

“Sometimes I need a milkshake, Y/N. What kind of question is that?” You snort. “Anyway— I think we should go out for dinner. It’s getting to be—shit, it’s almost 4.”

You’re silent, save for some puny, whiny noise you make at the mention of going out. You struggle to get up, a little wobbly on your feet, but Rafe catches you and hauls you up with a hand on your waist. 

“What?” He brushes the wispy hairs out of your face. “You don’t want to go out?” He searches your face, blue eyes squinting down at you, and you just pout. In the most mature way a 20-something can when faced with leaving her very rich boyfriend’s very nice house who has asked her to stay with him graciously for the very near future while his parents are retired on some island in the middle of the ocean. 

You curl a finger around the collar of his t-shirt, playing with it while you formulate an answer. 

“Where would we go?” Is what you settle on, ever the people pleaser. 

“I don’t know…” Rafe thinks, gaze drifting from you as he chews at his lip. You wind your arms around his shoulders, hands splayed across his wingspan. You pet the skin of his neck with your thumb, warm all over. You’re content just looking at him forever. 

“What if I’m hungry now?” You ask, ever so innocently, and Rafe thinks you’re serious until he catches the look on your face. 

“That right?” He grins, hand sliding down your back. He grabs at your ass and you squeak. “How hungry? Wait until after dinner?” He’s just teasing you honestly; it’s almost a hobby to see how desperate you get for him. 

“Rafe.” You pinch his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”

He just hums noncommittally, and dips to press a kiss to your neck. You shift up onto your tiptoes, wanting to be closer, and he hikes one of your legs up onto his hip. You can’t help the noise you make. 

“Rafe,” you breathe, grabbing at him. “We have to go inside.” He bows forward, dangling you towards the wood of the deck, and you just hold tighter onto his shoulders. 

“Why?” He murmurs, lost in your taste, and presses a kiss to your mouth that makes you shiver. “I don’t see why we have to.” He falls into a kneel, bringing you with him, and you suck in a surprised gasp. “Nobody’s around.”

“Somebody could be, baby,” you say, chancing a look around, and huff out a sigh when he lays you onto your back. This man. 

“I don’t care,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with not a care in the world before following you down. 

This bikini might be his favorite. He likes anything that will leave as little to the imagination as possible, but this one is his favorite shade of blue. Almost matches his eyes. 

Your warm skin feels like silk on him, and when you wriggle when he presses a hand to your inner thigh, his dick jumps. 

“Relax, Y/N,” he breathes. You roll your eyes. 

“How can I, Rafe? You’re so—aggravating.” You huff. He’s still wearing his shirt, too. You tug at the sleeves of it. 

“Oh, yeah?” He cocks his head, lips pursed. You just nod, pulling again at the fabric of his shirt. “Why’re you so wet, then?” He fumbles with the buckle of his jeans and your eyes lock on it.  

“I’m not.” You look back up at him, self-assured to a fault, and try to will the dampness between your legs away. He just stares down at you, unimpressed. “I-I’m not.” Your thighs close. 

“That right?” He murmurs, and wrestles your legs open again with an arm. His fingertips brush the crotch of your bottoms and you jolt, breathing hard out your nose. He lifts your hips and pulls them clean off, tossing them to the side. 

He’s silent then, gaze locked between your legs, and he carefully guides your legs back until you can grab them by the back of your thighs and keep them out of his way. 

“Not wet, my ass,” he murmurs to himself. His thumb rubs at your clit, and your sigh of pleasure ends in an impatient whine. He spits. “This pussy—,” he starts, but can’t finish. 

He just bows and gets his mouth on you like he’s been thinking about since he left the house. Your head slams back against the deck almost immediately. 

His large palm flattens to the back of your thigh and pushes your leg even further. The muscle strains but you can handle it. 

“Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue pushes hard through your folds. You’re really fucking wet. You wonder briefly if it’s because of how hot it was today, then cast that out of your mind completely when you hear Rafe groan. Your body vibrates with it. 

His hands suddenly drag you by your hips, closer to his face, and he hums again. 

“Taste so fucking good,” he muses, spitting at you, and glances up at your face. You can barely keep your mouth closed like this. “Brat, lying to me.”

You whine, every second of him talking taking his mouth away from where it so desperately needs to be absolute torture, but settle when his thumb begins tracing circles into your clit. 

“Fuck me,” you breathe, back arching and leg muscles straining, and Rafe just laughs into your cunt. 

“I will,” he murmurs, and you would roll your eyes if you could— but he pushes two fingers into you. His thumb spurs back into motion as you sing, throat already sore. He knows exactly where and when to curl his fingers, and you let him know right there is where they need to be. 

“There you go.” He spits a third time, watching it mix with your slick. “Squeezing me so tight, honey,” he assures you, smoothing a hand down your thigh. If you could find words you’d agree. 

You manage a “yes, shit,” before you go mute and your eyes roll back into your head. You squeeze around him like a vice, your legs flooding with warmth, and he fingers you through your orgasm. He can’t pull himself away when you get like this— you’re so soft and warm and perfect that he genuinely wonders if he could ever fuck someone else again. He knows the answer is no. 

Your abdominal muscles spasm and jolt as you come down, neck straining to look at where his fingers give you a final stroke and find their way to his mouth. 

“Fuck, Rafe,” you half-laugh and half-moan, head falling against the deck. You chest heaves as you catch your breath. “This is embarrassing.”

“What?” He says, voice hushed, and presses a kiss to your mouth. “Being on the deck or how quick I can make you cum?” He grins. 

This time you can and do roll your eyes. 

“Both,” you sigh, legs falling to their place around his hips. You curl up into a sitting position and pet his arm, coming back to reality. He smells like sunshine. “But you still haven’t fucked me yet.”

Your fingers trail down to his jeans, fingertips ghosting over his zipper. He hums in agreement, eyes following. You play with the button for a second, just wanting to tease, but pop it and unzip the fly. 

“Wanna know what I’m thinking about?” You ask, reaching up his shirt to feel his hot skin. “That time on the beach,” you purr, voice hushed and eyes wild. 

“Yeah?” He bites his lip and sits back on his ass, taking you with him in his lap. Your knees bend and you sit comfortably on the seat that is only yours. “You thinking about my hand?”

“Mhm.” You lean and kiss at his cheek, trailing down to his jaw. “And something else.” You dig a hand down into his boxers and curl your fingers around his dick. 

He’s hot and almost slippery, so hard you’re sure it’s painful. Your wrist slides against the tip and his hand on your ass curls into a fist. 

You lean back, wanting to see his face, and watch as your touch washes over his body. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing, and you smile sweetly. 

It’s then that you shift into your knees, hand squeezing his dick, and sink down onto him.

His fingers fly up to your strained face and grasp your neck, immediately tight around your throat. Not tight enough to suffocate, but tight enough for your pulse to quicken. 

Exactly what you’d imagined. 

“You like that?” He pants, breath fanning over your cheek when you turn slightly and grip his shoulder for stability. You just nod and circle your hips. 

His thumb on your chin guides your face back to his, wanting to see you fall apart, and you make a whiny noise. He feels where it starts and ends between his fingertips. 

You ride between the strain of his hand around your throat and the movement of his body, head tilted back and mouth wide. Your fingers grip his shoulder and bicep as you ride. 

It’s a difficult job, balancing the rhythm of your hips with the ache blooming from the muscles in your thighs, but you make it work. 

You hear the bashfully whiny groans he’s exhaling into your ear and you make it work. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper hoarsely as his hold tightens, chin tilting towards the sky. He grits his teeth and pushes his hips up into yours. 

You scramble to grab onto his forearm and hold back your shriek. 

The tightness of his fingers around your throat blur the lines of pleasure and pain, making it hard to catch a deep breath and ride him at the same time. 

“Fuck, harder,” he stutters, almost whispering, and you nod furiously. Your thighs meet his lap, over and over with a noise that makes you blush even more than you already are, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises or at the very least a red mark. 

He releases your throat and anchors himself with your hip and the small of your back, and when you finally gasp for air at the loss of his pressure on your neck he uses all his lower back strength to wedge himself deep into you. 

You know you’ll have bruises there. 

You push hard against his forearm as your back arches and the tension in your lower abdomen comes to a peak. Your toes curl where they are at his side.

Your vision comes in and out of focus as you cum again, blood white-hot in your veins. The climax is almost numbing. Addicting. 

At this point you have no idea the noises you’re making, probably all gibberish and definitely humiliating, but the rushing in your ears is too much. 

Rafe shudders and groans loudly into your ear, spending himself inside of you with a grunt, and you follow him as he falls back into the deck. You catch yourself with a palm on the sun scorched wood. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pants, heart pounding and chest heaving. Sweat coats his buzzed hair in a shiny sheen, and your whole body is so sticky you feel like you could peel the layer of perspiration off of your body. 

His hands still lazily hold your waist and they begin their ascent to your neck. He feels your pulse with the space between his thumb and forefinger, and his face splits into a grin at the feeling. 

“I definitely am going to need some food after this.” You push yourself back up into a sitting position and put your hands on your hips as you finally catch your breath. 

He looks so beautiful, half in the shade and half in the sun. Laid out beneath you. Still inside. Like some kind of god. 

The hot sun is in his eyes, and his body is numb with the tension spent in his muscles. Rafe half wonders if his dick is still fucking there. 

He barely feels when you crawl off of him and stumble into standing. He jerks up into a sitting position, that familiar ache in his back present, and grabs for your leg. He winces at the stretch. You should really be paying his chiropractor bill. 

“Where are you going?” He accuses, voice scratchy in his throat. 

“I need to shower, baby.” You bend to pick up your bikini bottoms. “We’re going to dinner, aren’t we?” You smile and turn back around to go inside, ass bare and a huge red mark in the shape of a large hand curved around the trunk of your throat. 

Yeah, drive-up it is.

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, so I was watching the s5 supercut (link to those here), and like, we now know that they wanted to make Buck bi in season 4 but that was blocked by fox and that does give the opening to assume Eddie finding out he is some shade of queer was part of the plan for s5, especially considering the way that it is very easy to add a sexuality crisis to his breakdown. But I was chilling but I have blue and yellow on the brain and I got distracted by the way in 501, Eddie's panic attack arc is blue and yellow coded in a similar what 8a has been blue and yellow coded for Eddie (meta on that here), with the blue pamphlet and the yellow gurney, the gloves, and the bags.

I latched onto the yellow gurney because, well, not yellow lol

So obviously, I went chasing stuff in season 5 because why not? As usual tho, I do get more intense about the yellow when applied to Eddie since the blue has already been established as Buck's.

Also, the season overall has blue and yellow call, like the cheerleaders' call from 504 and the chainsaw one from 505, the 505 one even the dispatch side of it is blue and yellow, which is a choice.

But anyway, beyond 501 for buddie. The yellow rags staying behind Buck and the blue sheets around Eddie for the 502 conversation. The yellow beer with a blue ice pack (and a blue hoodie in 504).

The whole kidnapping plot in 506, the choice to put Mitchel and the mom in similar yellowish tones, the way they keep the suspenders up so both of them have the blue and yellow on them, the amount of blue and yellow instruments around them at that ambulance. The part that I think is the most fun here tho, is the way that when Eddie is talking to Mitchel inside the ambulance, the sirens only flash blue, the whole conversation plays out with only blue lights, until Eddie goes to open the doors and the red finally comes into play. I like the way they used those carts to keep the yellow around both of them while inside the hospital.

This does lead us to the most important yellow of the season imo, the yellow behind Eddie when he tells them he's leaving the 118 feels pointed to me now lol. I also think the yellow lighting when he's talking to Chris in 511 is important, especially because that yellow element isn't there when he's talking to Buck in 511 or even when he's talking to Chris in 514.

Not exactly Eddie, but important anyway, the way Chris is yellow for the breakdown where Buck is blue and red, I feel like it plays into the thing with all the primary colors I suggest on the meta for 8a.

In 515, when he's talking to May, the blue and yellow literal color coding on the computer and the yellow files.

There's stuff going on in 516, the way they play with the way dispatch has a lot of blue lights and the warm lighting of the actual fire.

Also Buck and the suspenders giving them yellow to Eddie's blue shirt. There's also the yellow of Chris's room in 517.

There's a lot of color when Eddie is in Texas during 517, but I do think that the sign and the cake being majorly yellow is an interesting choice.

And to end it all in a nice note, when they are fixing Eddie's room, Buck is placing blue strips on the wall, while Eddie goes over it with a yellow sponge.

They want my man out too lol.

And the way I just wanted to chill watching an hour of buddie and ended up writing a meta, will my brain ever chill?

Anyway, if you read this, I love you 🫶

[thecranberriesslut]

Californication

Summary: You and your best friends dad commit sin on family vacay.

Pairing: no-outbreak! Joel Miller x Fem!Reader ’Cara’

Wc: about 3k

Warnings: The age gap is girthyyyy (Joel is 40-something, reader is 18), dirty themes, smut, read at your own risk, inappropriate jokes.

Notes: It’s my first fanfic posted on this account so please be nice, also english is not my first language so sorry for any typos, also you decided to read this so don’t complain about the age cap, it’s legal guys…

Californication Pt. 2

Californication, Pt. 3

The sky is bleeding shades of gold and orange over the navy blue early morning shade, only a couple of stars still visible from the night before. You shift in your bed uncomfortably, not having been able to sleep almost the entire night, mostly due to pure excitement. Luckily, your alarm sounds, and you get up to turn it off. 7:01, you manage to make out as your eyes adjust to the morning hue. You gather your honey-blonde hair and tie it up, so it's out of your face. As you retrieve your phone from charging on your bedside table, you see 4 new messages from Sarah, your best friend since grade school, right when you moved to the suburbs from New York.

You love Sarah, you have from the very first moment you met her. When you had just moved to a new house, and you felt all blue until you saw a beautiful blonde girl about your age in the yard next to yours-- wearing denim overalls with flowers on them, reading a book and eating a strawberry popsicle. She saw you looking through the window, and yelled to ask you whether you wanted a popsicle too. Sarah was an angel-- unfortunately, you were the fucking devil, especially when it came to Sarah's father.

Joel Miller-- You had begun to notice his appeal in the seventh grade, right around the time you started feeling things while watching that one scene in titanic. When you happened to scrape your knee outside Sarah's house and Joel had to patch you up. He lifted you onto their bathroom counter and placed a hello kitty band-aid on your knee, while looking up at you with his dark brown, captivating eyes and giving your knee a kiss. He told you that you were such a good girl for being so brave. You, being a horny 13-year-old, thought about that for months. He was your sexual awakening.

And now you're 18, still not able to look at him without your face growing hot, and your knees nearly giving out, going on spring vacation to Palm springs with your parents, Sarah, and Joel.

“Cara, are you up? We're leaving in two hours, with or without you!”

You hear your mom's perky voice yell from downstairs, she can be quite dramatic. But you wouldn't change her for anything.

“Yeah, mom!”

You quickly gather yourself and make a mental note to not think absolutely anything dirty about Joel 'sex god' Miller while on vacation. You answer Sarah's anxiously worded texts about what to pack for the vacation, and whether she can wear a bikini or will your mom think it's too whorish. The thing you love about Sarah is how much she thinks about stuff, she knows your mom loves her, and still, she's worried. You tell Sarah not to worry, and that you'd already packed, because you can think ahead too. You move onto picking an outfit for the trip.

It has to be something cute, but not too cute so my parents don't get suspicious-- but Joel has to like it.

You think to yourself, and then go on to curse yourself for thinking about Joel, and what he might like. You need to get yourself together. He's like 40, not to mention your best friend's father. You settle on some classic Levi's 501 shorts and a white Brandy Melville long sleeve, because the morning dew can cause a chilliness in the air. You decide on no makeup, and to wear your hair down, unstyled. You hurriedly grab the last of your things, phone charger, bikini-- a book.

Furthermore, you grab a Red Bull from the fridge quickly before you make it down to the driveway. Sarah's already sitting in the backseat of your moms gray sedan, and Joel's loading up their stuff. You feel weak as you see Joel, he's wearing a black t shirt that shows off his sweat glazed biceps and that damn cross necklace hanging around his neck. God-- there's something in you melting right now, and it is not from the heat outside.

“Hey darlin', need any help with that?”

Joel asks, in his low voice, smooth like whiskey, topped with the most charming southern drawl imaginable.

“Uhm, yeah! Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

You smile at him as you hand over your suitcase, trying to paint your face with an attractive smile, it is probably coming off as shy and adolescent if anything. Joel smiles back, the kind of smile that could stop traffic, and he pats you on your lower back, his hand lingering there for a second too long to be considered innocent. Even after he lets go, the heat of his big hand lingers there.

“It's no problem, a pretty lil' girl like you shouldn't be doin' heavy lifting, go on sit down, Sarah's in the car already.”

You go in the car, ready to blame the heat for your fiery crimson cheeks if it comes up. You hug Sarah excitedly and your parents carry the rest of the stuff to the car. You almost choke on your Red Bull as you see Joel opening the back door and motioning you to sit in the middle so he can fit in the back. Reluctantly, you move to the middle seat, as close to Sarah as possible, so you don't accidentally brush up against her smoke show of a father and go even more red than you knew to be humanly possible.

---------

After a long 5-hour drive of sitting next to Joel as still as you could, avoiding sliding closer to him during bumps in the road, and trying not to look at the slight bulge in his shorts. You were exhausted. You were so aroused and embarrassed, you feared that in the span of 5 hours Joel had noticed your horniness, had thought it was super gross, and had somehow telepathically told your parents about it. You were pulled out of your thoughts as the car came to a stop in front of a gorgeous white beach villa and Joel patted your thigh.

“Finally here, bet you're dyin' to stretch those legs, huh?”

He fucking knew. And now you needed to find the nearest hole in the ground and bury yourself in it. You just let out an awkward laugh as he got out of the car, and tried to console yourself.

He doesn't know anything, you are being paranoid.

You and Sarah managed to get out of the car, and you almost dropped your phone when you saw it.

“There's a huge fucking pool!”

You yelled in utter shock and excitement.

“Watch your mouth, young lady!”

Your dad yelled from behind the car. You and Sarah just laughed as you ran inside the villa, the tile floor freezing in contrast to the scorching hot air, you ran to the biggest bedroom and claimed it for you and Sarah. There was a huge king-sized bed laying in the middle of the room with expensive looking white sheets, and pillow mints set on the pillows.

“I could get used to this.”

You exclaimed, joking with a certain sense of indifference, as you unwrapped the pillow-mint. Sarah only laughed and said something about her dad, before he appeared in the doorway with our bags.

“Speak of the devil.”

Sarah said.

“You were talkin' 'bout me?”

Joel asked, a smug smile on his face, as he set our bags down with ease. The veins in his forearms prominent as his muscles bulged. He was strong, like-- incredibly strong, those bags weighed a lot, and he lifted them with not as much as a grunt. His rich dark brown hair fell over his eyes and he pulled it back with his hands, revealing some gray salt and pepper hairs underneath.

“Yeah, Cara was saying how embarrassing you were in the car.”

Sarah said nonchalantly, rolling her eyes and smiling at you. You were horrified. First of all, you were already terrified of Joel and now the fact that he probably thought you disliked him.

“I didn't say that! I-”

You defended yourself frantically, until Joel interrupted you.

“Sure you didn't, you lil' troublemaker. Your dad 'oughta teach you a lesson about respectin' adults.”

He joked. You couldn't say anything back, just stare at him as he turned to leave the room.

“Gosh, my dad's embarrassing.”

Sarah complained.

“No he's fine.”

You said quietly. Joel's jokes sounded like normal jokes to everyone else, but if you were a horny 18-year-old avid dirty book reader, his jokes always had a dirty undertone to them. Like that one time he suggested he bend you over and spank you for stealing some of his beers with Sarah. His words always had an effect on you, and sometimes you felt like he was doing it on purpose. Although every time he joked, you tried to hide behind your shy, enigmatic personality and not reveal that you had just gotten hornier than ever.

You had all settled in by the time the sun was starting to set, your parents had gone out for a walk and Sarah wanted to go scout the surrounding area for shops and things to do. So you were alone at the villa-- with Joel. You hadn't dared to leave your room yet, but your stomach was begging you to go get food already, and you had no other choice. So you gathered your courage and went into the kitchen, Joel was nowhere to be seen. You opened up the fridge to see a tuna sandwich, and came to the conclusion that it was probably for the road trip, and you could eat it now. So you took a bite, and felt someone's eyes on you, you turned around to see Joel wearing only his swimming trunks, hair soaking wet, and his abs glistening, as he dried them with a white towel.

“So... now the naughty girl is stealin' sandwiches too, huh?”

He accused you playfully, while dragging the towel across his body lazily, as if trying to torture you.

“What? I- I didn't know this was yours-”

You were quick to defend yourself.

“Relax, Cara.”

He said, a sly smile painting his beautiful face. The way your name rolled off his tongue felt like a direct attack to the tough exterior you were trying to keep up around him, and it went straight to your core.

“I'm jus' jokin' with you, you're always so tense around me, why is that?”

He asked, his voice remaining velvety smooth.

“Uhm... no, I'm not.”

You tried to sound convincing, you didn't. The way you fidgeted with your shirt hem and always slightly lowered your head when you spoke to him, suggested that you were genuinely afraid of him. But you weren't, just head over heels in lust. Wrongful lust.

“You jus' seem nervous is all... is everything all right?”

He asked as he walked slowly closer, like a predatory cat, he was a tall man, well over 6 foot. As he got closer, he started to tower over you in an intimidating but undeniably attractive manner. His build was strong, he looked like a man who could throw you across the room and not break a sweat.

“I'm not nervous.”

You lied. He looked at you knowingly, like a teacher who had just caught you cheating and was about to embarrass you in front of the entire classroom. He brought his big rugged hand to your forehead and made a caressing motion, you were confused until he held his hand to the light and confronted you.

“You're sweatin', and it ain't even that hot in here, you're also red as a beet.”

He smiled, having caught you in a lie. You were about to say something, but he stopped you.

“You know, lyin's not nice-- only bad girls lie.”

“What are you, my father?”

You clapped back, soon to realize that was a mistake. Because he placed his hand on your chin gently, but in a way that was meant to intimidate you, and forced you to look straight in his dark, scary eyes.

“No, and you're damn lucky I ain't, cause I'd sure as hell punish you for lyin' to me, make you respect your daddy.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you could feel the familiar redness rising to your cheeks. He dropped your chin and laughed a hearty laugh.

"Listen, kiddo, I'm jus' messin' with ya.”

“Oh!”

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and tried to shake off your dirty thoughts.

He didn't say anything sexual, you are just a weird ass dirty minded virgin.

“And I'd work on hidin' your emotions better. Gettin' all worked up by your best friend's father callin' himself daddy-- you are one sick puppy.”

His crude words should have disgusted you, you should've felt gross or violated or something, but you didn't. All your feelings were overpowered by one. Complete intoxicating arousal, purely from his words. You didn't have a lot of time to gather yourself when you heard the door and saw Sarah walking inside with something in her hands.

“What do you have?”

You asked, curious. Sarah held the items up, and you could make out two bagels and two diet cokes. You smiled like you had just seen a million dollars.

“I love you so much!”

You screamed as you ran for the bagels.

“I thought you'd probably be starving, I found this cute ass little café down the road.”

You took the bagels and headed to your room. Feeling extremely guilty about what had happened with her dad just moments prior, how could he just say something so-- vigorous out of nowhere, and now you had to pretend it didn't happen. You placed the bagels on the bed and changed your denim shorts into your comfortable pink Hollister mini shorts, you took out your MacBook and scrolled endlessly, trying to find something for you both to watch.

“Can we watch The Kardashians?”

You asked Sarah, she just nodded a quick yeah and bit into her bagel. You watched the show until it was very late, the sun had set completely, and the only sound throughout the house was the quiet hum of an air conditioner. Sarah was half asleep, you had almost forgotten about the whole thing with his dad already.

It's fine, you were just reading too much into it, he didn't mean anything by it.

You were way too in your thoughts to go to sleep, so you decided that a little midnight swim could do you good. You changed into a tan Burberry bikini and retrieved a white towel from your closet, and made your way to the massive pool. The air felt warm, the night had brought a cold breeze, but the heat of the day still lingered in the air, almost like a memory. The water was warm, it was sitting there day after day in the heat, so it had gathered some of it. You could easily just go all the way in, it felt heavenly-- After having swam a couple of laps you lifted your head out of the pool. You almost drowned when you saw Joel, crouched by the side of the pool, staring at you and smiling.

“Fuck! You scared me!”

You screamed at him. Coughing out some water you had accidentally swallowed when you saw him.

“Sorry... was jus' enjoyin' the view.”

He said, smugly. You decided that if he wanted to play games, you would play along. You splashed him with water so his sweatpants and white tee got soaking wet, and smiled at him-- challenging him.

“Whoa! Kitty's got claws... But you ain't a brave girl.”

“Why's that?”

You asked, swimming closer to him and holding onto the border of the pool, inches from him. The light of the moon reflected on you from the water. The air smelled like smoke, brittlebush, and chlorine.

I probably look fucking ethereal right now.

You thought to yourself, feeling confident, trying your best to give Joel 'fuck me' eyes, something you'd learned while reading one of your grotesque books.

“You know I can't come in that pool, you're hidin' out 'cause you know you shouldn't challenge me.”

If there was ever a time to be courageous, this was it. You lifted yourself out of the pool slowly, Joel observed you with a slight sparkle in his eye. You got out of the pool and slowly walked over to your towel to dry yourself off. Joel laughed a low, hearty laugh.

“I guess I was wrong.”

He said, holding his hands up in defeat.

“So, what are you doing up this late?”

You asked him, party curious, partly trying to relieve the tension.

“Oh, well darlin' if I told you I'd be considered a dirty, bad man. Let's jus' say I couldn't sleep.”

To be continued.

[twilghtkoo]

ride: first date [part one] jjk

“you nervous?” “yeah.”

summary. you’re first date with jungkook and he’s picking you up on his motorcycle

pairings. biker!jungkook x reader (f)

genres/au. fluff, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, college au

warnings. flirty jungkook, oc and jk touch each other (not sexual), poor attempt at motorcycle knowledge (my fault) T__T, if i missed anything pls lmk!!

word count. 1.6k

notes. first part!! and the beginning of a new series but with jungkook o.o i rly liked this one hehe, pls like and reblog if u enjoyed this !! also did y’all see jungkook’s promotion schedule photo bc W T F

[ series masterpost | masterlist | taglist ]

—

you’re the girl he’s had a crush on since he saw you for the first time in the library on campus. you were wearing grey sweatpants and a random hoodie with your hair tied up in a low ponytail, your glasses framing your face in the most prettiest way. you were frantically typing and writing stuff down on your laptop, and when he had walked over to take a seat next to you— after the pep talk he had with himself— your notes still looked neat and colorful despite your distressed scribbling.

after he had the courage to tap you on the shoulder and start a conversation, you’ve both quickly became friends. it was surprising to see how well you both bonded together. and you’re not usually someone who makes friends so easily, it having to do with your shyness and social anxiety. but jungkook had a charm and such an easy-going personality that drew you in.

you’ve mostly hung out on campus, both of your schedules not aligning in your favors due to exam season. so your hangouts were located in the library most of the time. opting to studying together and just being satisfied basking in each others presence.

around the tenth hangout, jungkook asked you out on a date. you were working on a quiz and he was writing an essay when he slid a piece of paper over to you before he went back to typing on his laptop.

will you go out on a date with me this saturday?

check ☐ yes or ☐ yes :)

you would’ve said yes even if he gave you a ‘no’ option.

-

a couple days later, before the weekend, he had walked you to the campus’s bus stop and waited with you. you had an evening class and it ended around eight, the blue sky now turning a shade darker as the minutes pass and it made you frown.

“how do you get home? you said you park in parking garage b and that’s across campus. you didn’t have to walk me here, although i really appreciate it.” you said, worried. from the eyes of others, jungkook looks tough, if his tattoos, piercings, fit figure had anything to go by. but you cared about him and it’s natural for you to be worried. anything could happen.

your concerns make him grin, he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“i’m okay, promise. and i ride my bike to get places.” he assures you.

you tilt your head, staring at him with curious eyes. “like a motorcycle?”

he nods, holding his small grin when he watches your eyes grow bigger.

you gasp, “really? you own a motorcycle?”

“yup, she’s my baby. got her when i turned 20. she’s precious to me.” he tells you before leaning down next to your ear. “but don’t worry you’re more precious.”

you didn’t have time to respond because your transportation pulls up and jungkook grabs your hand to walk you to the entrance of the bus.

-

jungkook arrived at your place a bit early but he couldn’t help it. he was excited. he had texted you he was here but told you not to rush.

he’s has never been this nervous in his life since having to tell his mom he wanted to major in computer science and not med school like she wanted. he’s nervous because he’s going on a date with you.

and you’re in your bedroom trying to gather your necessities into your shoulder bag, deciding to take a peek through your window that shows the front of your building and you’re able to see jungkook next to his bike.

he’s not sure how to stand when you walk out your door. should he lean against his bike with his arms crossed? he almost decided to just sit on it but why if he’s going to get off anyways to greet you. should he pretend he’s on his phone until he sees you?

“kook!”

he is shaken out of his internal turmoil when he spots you lightly jogging up to him, a radiant smile lighting up your entire face with warmth and joy.

“sorry, did i make you wait?” she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, peering up at him with guilt and curiosity with the shiny black bike next to him.

he quickly shakes his head. “no, i wasn’t waiting long. don’t worry.” he assured you.

“you look pretty.” jungkook compliments you, scanning your features with the same grin he had when he had asked you out on a date.

you blush, “thank you, you too. i mean, you look really really handsome.”

his eyes crinkled at the edges and the corners of his lips turned upwards. his lip piercings shining and glaring from the sunlight, almost blinding you.

he notices you staring at his bike with interest.

“you nervous?”

“yeah.” you admit, sheepishly smiling.

you watch as jungkook unzips his leather jacket and sliding it off before he makes his way to you. he helps you slide off your bag before helping you slide your arms in the sleeves. his smell and the soft scent of his cologne makes you feel giddy inside and makes your heart hammer.

“i’ll ride slow, i have precious cargo today.” he responds, zipping the jacket up and grabbing all your hair from out the jacket. an action that makes your heart beat louder out of your chest.

you slide your bag back over your head to rest on your shoulder as you watch jungkook grab the helmet that rested on the back of his bike.

“did the bike come with an extra helmet?” you question, genuinely curious.

he’s careful to not mess up your hair as he slides the helmet over your head, and strapping it on.

he hums before he responds. “no, i bought it yesterday.” he tightens a strap, then asking if it was too tight, you said no.

“you bought it for me?”

“i told you, i have precious cargo. can’t have nothing happen to you.” he finishes making sure your helmet was secured, lightly patting the top of it before he slid his on.

watching jungkook do his thing and putting on his gloves was kind of hot…okay, really hot.

jungkook gets on first, kicking the kick stand off the ground and holds out his gloved hand for you to take. giving your hand a squeeze as he notices your small steps before you climb on behind him. instantly wrapping your arms around his tiny waist, when you tightened your grasp you were able to feel the sculpted muscles underneath his t-shirt. only making you intrigued on what’s hiding beneath the thin cotton fabric.

“hold on to me okay, squeeze me if anything.” he tells you softly, but you know he’s serious.

-

the sound of his motorcycle coming to life was like a breath of fresh air. in fact, his frequent gentle touches at stop lights were everything calming and you appreciated it.

the light just turned red and jungkook slows down to a stop. your knees rested against his hips as your arms circled his waist, both your hands linked together. he frees his hands from the handle bars to rest on your hands, giving them a squeeze.

and god, you’re very thankful for this helmet that’s hiding your red face and your embarrassingly huge smile.

his hands then roam to your knees then down your shins, patting a rhythm and then running over your denim covered leg soothingly.

is he doing this to make you go crazy? cause it’s working.

you’re not sure if it was the coffee you had this morning or his touches that boosted this sudden confidence but your hands loosened around his hips and gripped them. squeezing where his bare skin ends and you feel the hem of his black jeans.

jungkook places a hand over yours, not letting your hands move anywhere else. he wants yours to stay where it’s at for the moment.

he tilts his head back. “you doing okay?”

you nod, “yeah, you’re a safe driver. five stars.” you joke.

he chuckles at that and the light turns green.

-

he took you to a dog cafe. not just any dog cafe, but a corgi cafe. you didn’t even know this cafe existed. oh but through the big window in the front of the building, seeing the few corgis you could see, you wanted to burst with excitement.

“you like corgis?” he asks, pointing to the pen that’s in your hand with an acrylic artwork of a corgi at the end. you had bought it at a stationery store a few weeks ago.

your lips curve upward into a small but genuine smile. “yeah, they’re my favorite dogs.”

he smiles with you, mentally storing that information into his brain.

“you haven’t been here before have you?” he asks nervously, helping you off the bike and unstrapping your helmet. he helps you fix your hair and brushes back a few strands.

you shake your head. “no, i didn’t even know a corgi cafe existed here.”

“good, i was worried you’ve already been here.” he holds his hand out for you to take, in which you did.

you’re swaying on your feet unconsciously, switching gazes from the nervous boy and the sight of a freaking corgi cafe in front of you.

but jungkook notices you.

he hums out, “come on pretty, don’t wanna keep you out too late.”

[sweetandsavageautistic]

(CW: Cringe, Autism Parents stuff, drunk mention, infantilization)

So I don't have a degree in Graphic Design, but I do have a sense of general aesthetic. I figured that it's April. Let's rate, and potentially verbally tear apart and drag through the mud, some autism shirts and graphic designs, and I'll probably do a part 2, these scores are only semi-arbitrary: First up is this:

Already off the top, I am confusion because it seems to read "I wear puzzle cousin autism awareness". Sounds like whoever made this was drunk.

Puzzle pieces, ew.

The red, yellow, green, and blue look like the shades you'd see in elementary school, so that seems pretty infantilizing.

Autism Awareness, I am very much aware of my existence.

Final Score: 0 out of 10. Designer, go home; you're drunk.

Next we have this:

This one already has a slight advantage over the first because it's at least coherent in terms of the message.

Elementary school colors, but make it extra tacky.

Puzzle pieces; don't try to bullshit me by putting the autism awareness banner over it, I can see the other indents that make them puzzle pieces.

Once again, I am well aware of my own existence.

At least it's a smaller design.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10, and that's being generous.

Next one's not a shirt, but it still counts:

No blue so thank God for that.

This is up to personal preference, but to me, the person-first language is giving "I need to be reminded that someone is a person."

Puzzle pieces. Ew. Don't BS me, I can see them.

Walk down Autism Lane. (it's right below the word LOVE) Sorry, but we don't allow ableists on Autism Lane; you need to be a premium member and to be a premium member, you need to not be a dick.

The pumpkin disturbs me for some reason, and not in the Halloween way; I mean, it just straight-up disturbs me.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10. Bury it in a shallow grave.

Just found this one:

It's easy on the eyes at least.

No tacky elementary school colors.

No puzzle pieces.

The bunny's cute, but this also seems very infantilizing.

Person first language is a no for me.

Why are all of the is lowercase, but the others are uppercase?

Final Score: 5 out of 10. Not great, but not terrible.

Here we have simple:

Elementary school colors, but credit where credit's due; it's not terrible on the eyes.

Why is blessed on there three times?

One big-ass puzzle piece.

"Autism blesses" Yes, because being bullied by my peers, being indirectly told who I am is wrong, having the worst time making friends, always feeling like I'm never truly part of a friend group, being confused when some adults got mad at me, not having anyone to play with at 4 years old is an absolute fucking blessing. /s And that's the tip of the iceberg.

"Fun", "Sweet", "Cute".....it's the infantilization for me.

Final Score: 3 out of 10. No further elaboration.

Then there's this monstrosity:

I call this color Patronizing Paraprofessional Blue, aka the tackiest shade of blue ever.

It looks like something one of those older white suburban millennial moms would wear. Like something a Karen would wear to one of those autism walks or one of those social skills teachers who talk in that slowed-down patronizing kindergarten teacher tone with that fake-ass smile, no matter how old you are. You know the one I'm talking about, right? Yeah, they'd wear this.

Puzzle piece. Light It Up Blue. Ew.

We all know what organization this supports.

Final Score: -10 out of 10. Burn it.

Let's get in a good one to counter that abomination of a shirt and end part one on a higher note:

Nice simple design with a black background.

No tacky elementary school colors.

Identity-first language.

Really counters the....what the fuck would it be called? The UwU autism parent thing? ("I am his voice, he is my heart," "See the able, not the label," etc,.) It counters that.

The light sparkle around "a bitch" is chef's kiss.

Final Score: 11 out of 10. Perfection.

[transformers-spike]

Back at it with sparkling brain rot

Soundwave's cryptid daughter is mostly well behaved but has a playful/mean streak and likes to play pranks. When she gets fed up with Knockout and Starscream she will play Megatron's voice to jump scare them which works every time. She will also play different bots voices to deceive the vehicons and even her parents (only sometimes works on them) when getting in to things she's not supposed to. When she's mad at Soundwave she plays her Mom's scolding voice. Megatron knows all about it and feels like he should be mad but can't find it in himself as after all it's Soundwave's sparkling and watching her put the fear of Primus into Starscream and other mechs is too delightful.

"STARSCREAM!"

Megatron's booming voice coming from out of the blue is enough to jolt Knockout and Breakdown from their conversation.

"Hungry."

Even though it might not have been their designations shouted, both bots look thoroughly shaken.

"Right, of course. Here you go, two rust sticks for my favorite patient."

Dreadwing probably has the most respectful sparkling. Always cleans up after playing with his toys and doesn't make a mess drinking his energon. Aside from just generally being one of the most noble decepticons Dreadwing being a split spark has a strict sense of fairness from growing up with his brother and passed that to his sparkling (you know the meme of siblings measuring cookies portions to make sure they're even). Doesn't tolerate the other Sparklings bullying each other or Cheating in games.

"Love, care to tell me why Starscream says you hit his daughter?"

"THAT'S BECAUSE SHE'S A CHEATER AND KEPT EATING MY CHESS PIECES!"

Breakdown's sparkling is honestly just a good normal kid. She might be made of metal and the bulkiest sparkling but she likes Saturday morning cartoons and roughhousing with her friends. Breakdown is vert attentive and protective of her. When she's old enough they go mud bogging together.

"BLUEY!!!BINGO!!!"

I feel like with Shockwave there would be a ton of kids in the name of science. Predaking either carries them in his mouth like a mama gator or on his back like a mother opossum. They'd mostly rather play among each other but sometimes accept the other sparklings. Despite the fact that they range from different shades of purple and pink outsiders have trouble telling them apart and discerning of many of them there really are.

"How can you tell them apart?"

"Oh, easy that one's a-12, that's a-3 over there, this is one is c-4, etc..."

Some shitposty part of me wants to think all of the kiddies share the same mom, except they're all born weirdly (idk extra small like she's carrying a litter of sparklings). The birth wasn't excruciating, just took longer because there were so many. Idk if it was all of them at the same time or like multiple pregnancies Soundwave's kid is so fucking adorable - I'm even tempted to say she can probably breakup fights with her tendrils, and she's been caught occasionally stealing treats using them (with the other sparklings cheering her on) I love how you're hinting that Skyquake and Dreadwing used to beef over portion sizes. Dreadwing's kid is just a mini him, same serious expression, just small and extra cute. Honestly him losing his mind over Starscream's kid eating his chess pieces is uifehiefiuefufe - what the fuck is wrong with her??t??? I want to say he's a momma's boy who likes being carried around and cuddled. Don't worry, Dreadwing's also there, he's just overprotective of his spawn and he cannot drop the serious act for even a second. The type of parent to speak to his newborn like he would an adult. He's trying his best Breakdown must be used to taking his kid and KO's son for outings. They're chatterboxes when they're together and they both laugh at his horrible dad jokes. When KO's exhausted he looks after his kids (or well, at least his son) - because KO's daughter wants to hangout in clean spaces with her dad. Damn the reader had a separate pregnancy just with Shockwave's kids at this point. Predaking is honestly very happy caring for his extra small siblings, and he's very careful not to crush them. Honestly he's a better dad than Shockwave lol. Also, if you wake them up, a bunch of tiny red optics open up in the total darkness. Feels like a horror movie

[thisismeracing]

Hey, can I pleade request Mick dating a journalism major!reader in uni, (and she has to write a paper about something like 'a thing you find beautiful in everday life' or something like that and she writes about Mick, he reads it and realises she has feelings for him)? Please

P.S.: feel free ignore the part in the brackets

Beautiful things | MS47

⸺ the one where it's no secret you're in love with him, but he finally realizes it. ✓ mentions of food; friends to lovers; not proofread; fem!reader (she/her). 0.8k words

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Mick had a rushed routine as a driver and a famous one. You also had a rushed routine, though you were neither famous nor a driver. Quite the opposite and your friendship surprised a few people because you were a journalism major who just like in the cliches spilled your coffee on him on your first day at the paddock.

One of your college friends who happened to have a rich mom invited you to a weekend in the paddock, and though every catastrophic scenario went through your head you said yes. As it turned out, you did make a fool of yourself, but it earned you a new friend, and just like everyone once told you, nobody is paying that much attention to the point of remembering the comic situation you got pulled into.

You and Mick clicked and had been friends for around two years now. You made it work even with the hectic schedule and the traveling. He would take you with him whenever it was near enough for a quick plane ride and you didn't have classes. That's how it became a thing for him to know about your assignments and help you with them. He would tell you that it was relaxing to read your writing, and then proceed to do it every small free second he got (there were shots of him in the garage with a sandwich in one hand and your laptop in the other).

Coming to think about it, you suppose that maybe that's how you fell for him. Mick was always there for you even when he was on the other side of the world. He would call, and text, and get you small souvenirs. He would help proofread your assignments, and ask about your day. And don't get things wrong, you have tons of friends, but none of them felt like what you had with Mick. None of them slept with their phone by their pillow waiting for you to sleep and waking you up if they heard you having a nightmare. You kept telling yourself that he was just extra friendly. That he was the golden retriever guy everyone talked about, but that didn't mean he loved you. That, though, wasn't enough to convince your heart and you saw yourself slowly and surely fall for him.

That's how you ended up writing about him in your last assignment. One he wasn't supposed to read, but you forgot you shared the online folder with him and that he opened it every weekend to check for new stuff.

There are many beautiful things in everyday life, but some don't seem captivating to us every day. I love the sky, love the way the blue can turn into orange, and somehow get mixed into a light purple. How at night you get to see different glimmers of stars, and travel imagining cloud forms just like when it's daylight. But I don't see the sky as lovely when it's winter and there's no sun or white clouds, just a dark shade of grey. [...] I also find the rush of people in the city captivating, each going on about their lives, taking the subway, strolling with friends, walking the dogs, and buying groceries. Still, there are days when I hate the rush, and I hate how the dogs will stand in the way on the sidewalk, how the subway is full, and how loud a group of strangers can be. [...] But then there are the people. A person. He drives just as effortlessly as he walks. And the days when he walks with me, the dark sky is beautiful, the dogs barking in the way are music to my ears, and the packed subway is full of bursting dreams and hopeful people. I'm one of them. I'm hopeful he'll notice me one day. I'm hopeful he'll love me the way I love him. I'm hopeful he'll see me just as beautiful as I see him. To me, he's the everyday beauty, not because of his sparkly blue eyes, or soft blond hair, but because of who he is. I never get tired of him. I never will because he's this kind of beauty to me.

"Wow," he breathed after finishing your paper just as you were walking into his driver's room.

His big ocean orbs found your frame by the door, and by the way he was looking at you, surprise etched on his face, you knew he read the piece and connected the dots.

"Mick...I-...I'm so sorry- I-" Truth be told, you were on the verge of tears, what was supposed to be a beautiful day started to feel like a nightmare. You thought so many things, thought he would hate you, thought he wouldn't wanna be friends anymore, that he would laugh at you, but he smiled.

He gave you that overwhelmingly gorgeous smile.

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, he was in front of you, still smiling, he reached for your cheekbones and connected your foreheads, taking a deep breath - something you weren't able to do because of your nerves.

"Schatzi, you're the most beautiful thing in the world," he whispered, and that small sentence was everything you needed to hear.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: This was so fun to write hihihi I hope you guys like it! - don't forget to reblog and comment if you do *mwah*

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