#my mom was also sitting here and she was like 'how is it this bad with all that technology and autotune they must have?' krkfkfkd
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Guys is this a safe space?đ
Just stumbled upon a st*y k*dz concrt (2023 i think) on tv and ig it was time for solo perfs bc there was 1 one member on stage singing,(vocals, not rap) standing with a mic stand (so there wasnt any dance or jumping, it was a loud ballad) singing OFF KEY the ENTIRE TIME without any backing vocals...
Out of curiosity, was that a one time thing or do they suck in vocals?
#idk who it was bc i only know the 3 popular members and it wasnt either of them#and when i looked at the members in google it seems like theyre a more rap/hiphop group with only 2 vocalist#which wouldnt excuse the horrible vocals i just heard tbh but still... it makes a bit more sense ig#but bro that was so bad i got embarrassed for him#like it wasn't one bad highnote or anything. he was off key the whole time.#my mom was also sitting here and she was like 'how is it this bad with all that technology and autotune they must have?' krkfkfkd#like i dont listen to them bc theyre mostly too young and their music isnt my taste#but considering how popular they are i assumed theyd be at least decent...#fr tho im curious kdkfkfk
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Okay okay, I usually hate posting selfies, but then again, I also love a little mild attention. So, to strike a balance, here are 4 recent ones, but Iâm posting them at 2am so I donât have to worry about bothering too many people. Yeah? Ok thanks I love you
#yes I know how time zones work⊠theyâre fake. itâs night everywhere right now. duh.#sometimes a girl just wants to hear sheâs pretty đ€·đ»ââïž#Iâm sorry I have a perpetual grumpy face. I donât know what to do about that đ€·đ»ââïž#god Iâm bored. and lonely. and yearning. yeahâŠ#I donât want to get into that right now⊠ok I do but maybe letâs not do it in these tags#anyway Iâm actually probably going to chop off most of my hair this weekend#I know I know. dudes cutting off long hair is a sin but also⊠itâs hot. my hair is heavy and gets gross easily#itâll grow back soon enough but for now it needs to be razed#so what else what elseâŠ#this is my third night staying in the hospital while my mom is admitted#sheâs doing better but I donât really want to leave her here alone for too long#being stuck in bed feeling like shit all day gets lonely and tiresome so someoneâs gotta hang with her#itâs not so bad on my part. I just sit in this chair all night on my phone and then eat breakfast in the cafeteria#easy peasy#I havenât been home much in the past few days. just a few hours at time to nap and then head back#but itâs good. things are getting better#yupâŠ#I guess thatâs it⊠I donât know what else to say#you can ignore this#take it sleazy#me#selfie#gross boy
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I'm starting to see ppl talk abt updating their artfight pages and at first I was like what why it's still months away and then it hit me that by months it was two months and now I'm just silently sweating as my anual side project to remake the eternal gales refs and give them all icons comes back to haunt me
#rat rambles#oc posting#well I mean the good news is that all the staliens are already done and Ive already started on the human kids#the bad news is that theres still 5 more refs for me to remake and 9 icons if I decide to commit to that#the only one Ill probably force myself to do is sprinkles since shes the only stalien that doesnt have one and I dont want to leave her out#the human kids might just not get them tho especially since theres other characters Id like to make refs and icons for too#not as many newbies to the field this year which is a good thing since I do not have a lot of space left for new characters lol#Im probably going to take it easy this year in terms of my goals for artfight since last year I crashed and burned Hard#hopefully Ill have the time and motivation to draw a decent amount but if I dont Ill try not to be too broken up about it#especially since Ill probably burn myself out a bit doing the last minute ref rush lol#its not necessary especially since all the guys who needed the new refs most got theirs but Id like for them to be on the same page#I also went ahead and cleaned up my page a lil bit to make my life easier in the future#I should probably update bios and stuff but I dont feel like it Im too tired#tomorrow Im definitely going to need to clean some more as I have been for nearly every day#I mean guess thats why Im here in part#last week of pet sitting tho so soon Ill be back home again#Im not sure if Im excited or dreading it cause while I miss my family I also have been rly enjoying a house to myself#like its not necessary easy to do all the chores and stuff but it's a lot easier to do said chores when Im alone#and Ive actually been waking up at reasonable times too like not having my mom floating around is doing wonders#its almost making me rethink my insistence that I couldnt live alone but I definitely think itd get to me in the long term I need people#I just wish there was a better middleground since having people constantly in the house stresses me out so bad#it leads to me hiding out all day in my room and that's just not good for me#but its not like I could live by myself even if I wanted to#at this rate I dont think Ill ever move out but lets not think abt how much worse that could be for me thats future me's problem
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everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn
#self#for instance.....my mom wants me to cut off everyone who is still tied to the school#and im so mad at myself for feeling a certain type of way when the campus manager called me not too long ago basically to tell me she doesnt#trust the girl who did this shit and she wasnt mad at me but was also mad at me for bringing her to her dads house#for reference we were trying to get a cat from the campus managers dads house LMFAO#and i honestly cannot wait to speak to her again and be like đ god dammit you were right like you were every single time#i just dont understand the wiring in her head to think the shit she says and does to people is normal and okay and how she doesnt realize it#is literally a mental health break. when i finally told my mom the first thing she said was shes probably off her medication#which.....probably isnt wrong sadly coming from someone who has borderline and very easily can lose it#but the difference is i dont give in to the urges to try to hurt everyone around me in every way i can#and me and her have said before that we thought she might also have borderline because we were very similar#but god damn does she love proving that if she has it its extremely severe or its something else entirely#on an honest note. shes incredibly narcissistic and i know her mom is part of the reason shes that way bc she was given princess treatment#her entire fucking life and then doesnt understand when other people dont treat her the same way#i hate rambling about this and i hate it that it is bothering me so fucking bad but like ???#if youre going to decide that you can put our past aside period and move on then fucking do that and stop bringing the past up as a way to#hurt me and the people around you???? she acts like shes not done horrible fucking things to people. so sorry i wrote a letter that was very#honest at the time. so sorry that when you found out i apologized for it and said i regret it because 2 weeks after my apology i no longer#regret writing it. if its making school a living hell for you....theres probably a reason for that girlfriend#i am not the person who put that shit in your folder#though i seriously fucking doubt its actually in her folder shes probably assuming it is#and youre the one who made a complete ass of yourself to every educator that ever stepped foot in that building#that has nothing to do with me that you are a literal warning given to every new educator!!!! i havent even been in school there in months#yet IM the problem??? how am i the problem when i graduated in fucking january???? everything since then falls on you#AND YET AGAIN! MIGHT I MENTION! IT IS NOT JUST MY LETTER!!! THERES AT LEAST 2 OTHER ONES!!!!!#BECAUSE IM NOT THE ONLY PERSON SHE DOES THIS SHIT TO!!!!#god sometimes i sit back and realize that theres a reason she regresses as a person and i do not#im not going to sit still anymore and let someone walk all over me and she can thank herself for that#shes who taught me that blocking and running as fast as i can doesnt fix anything#so here we are bitch. youre not blocked and im sure youre sitting at home thinking about how youre right about everything
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I have been here one full day and I am already ready to go back to my apartment why am I like this đ
also please lord tell me what have I eaten that has completely ruined my stomach, I feel like I've been nauseous since I got here đ«
#i will get over it and be sad to leave in two days haha#i got to walk around the koreatown plaza out here and got snacks and milk tea w my sister#then we went to lunch w my parents đ#and grocery shopping#then lin left and my parents and i went to a few places for fun#we watched the last voyage of the demeter a n d everything everywhere all at once together#(finally seeing it!!!! it was great & loving and i cried)#(because of course)#my mom got up at one point and got dizzy she fell and kept falling and it was Really sudden and very scary#all the plants were knocked over and i was immediately screaming like an idiot#but i helped her up and we walked slow to the bathroom together so i could look her over and make sure nothing was too bad#she skinned her arm in a places - she's so skinny so it bled a lot which was also scary.#i may have immediately stress cried while i was helping with her and we sat together for a long time to talk#then my dad was So Upset so he had to vent#(i understand his frustration to a point but i also feel like he's holding everyone else to this standard in his mind - )#(- of how they should âdealâ with my mom having cancer - that my older siblings aren't âstepping up to helpâ)#(but he literally talked about my mom fading away and getting weaker every day like she wasn't sitting right next to him ???)#(and she was!)#i don't know MAN#i dont have things figured out at all but ot made me so angry and so sad#i know he is just feeling hurt and upset đ« đ« đ«
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being the eldest daughter really is just how do i shield my sibling from everything bad in the world and also how do i gentle parent my own parents
#being home makes me realise how much i had to self teach emotional regulation and communication skills#i am truly the glue holding this family together no one talks to each other just immediate defensiveness and yelling and being mean#like i truly just sit here in shock listening to my sister and my parents interact with one another and how easily fights break out#little by little iâm starting to feel like a guest in this home again despite this being the place i grew up in#family tw#parents tw#going back to the city tomorrow and Iâm sad leaving again but iâm also like.#this environment is so bad for me mentally and emotionally#and i try and fix it but iâll never be able to bc no one else wants to put in the effort to fix it#so i need to just stop trying to hold everyone together bc my parents are grown fucking adults#my sister is my baby so sheâs a lil different but seriously this is too much#why is mom yelling at my dad before he even shows any sign of frustration/angerâŠ#not that THAT is even an excuse to start yelling but like sheâll get mad at him for being mad when heâs NOT even mad??#please make this make sense bc rn i cannot comprehend it#everyone please get therapy!! god#talk time
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Few things piss me off more than when I'm researching something, and I find someone asking the question I want answered, and the response is just "you shouldn't want that, just do this instead"
Today, it's me trying to look up a build for this witch farm concept that uses raid captains to manipulate the witches ai instead of using redstone
"Just use the shifting floors farms, they're just about as good" people respond... you stupid prick, that's not an answer to the question actually asked. I don't know about these guys, but me, I want it cause it's novel and there's no redstone, and I like putting bespoke prestige projects on my server... you might have noticed I tend to do form over function on a lot of my farms... so this is about form, the function is just a bonus
Second example, I wanted to see if there was any way to make Terra Invicta load faster, "just don't save scum"... you idiot, one that's just stupid advice, people can play games however they want, but two this once again doesn't answer the question
Like yeah, how dare people want to know if there's a way to make a game load saves faster when loading takes like 1 minute
If they at least phrased stuff like "sorry, I don't know how to do that, he's an alternative you might try", it's not helpful but it's at least polite
But man... I just get tired of people not answering the question being asked and instead answering the one they've decided was asked
(Actually, a legit real problem in the real world such as... with doctors who don't listen to their patient and decide they know what's really being asked. Don't do it, answer the asked question, or at least ask questions to confirm what's being asked before going off pig headed)
#anyway; pouring over unhelpful people one dropped a mention that Doc from hermit craft seems to have built this design this season#so now I have to track down that... while youtube's acting stupid like it always does after I've left my computer on a few days#no other websites have an issue; but youtube basically becomes unresponsive for like 5 seconds every 10 seconds#the video plays fine if it's already going; but if I try to start or stop it or click anything it doesn't#wonderful website you have their youtube; I'm sure it's not a windows style processor hog or anything#...I'm also in a bad mood; like I'm fucking hair trigger at the moment; cause of one of my mom's sneezing fits hours ago#I know it sounds stupid; and honestly it feels like I must be faking it or something#but when I hear her do that (and it lasts for minutes; she never sneezes less than like 20 times at the top of her lungs)#I actually start smashing my fucking head with the heels of my hands; like against the ears and temples#have to fucking race for rain sounds and turn them up to max; and then I just kinda sit there rocking like a crazy person#...I don't know... probably has something to do with... some kinda shit in my childhood... can't really put it into words or anything concr#but yeah... this kinda thing already pisses me off on a good day cause conceptually it's a jackass move#'oh; you asked a question? well you're stupid and wrong for wanting this; you should just be me instead'#like I could imagine if you asked someone how to do wood burning having them say 'you can't; you can only cut it with power tools'#that's the kind of mentality going on here#slime chunks are another good example; I wanted to know if there's a way to trim them cause they kinda piss me off#short answer no; they seem to be even more baked into the seed than biomes are these days... which sucks; but it's a full answer#but 'just spawn proof with slabs and buttons' is a stupid fucking answer you moron#oh shit; I never considered the obvious... thanks; it's not like maybe people want a certain vibe to a room they built#2010 ass builders; like yeah; in the end I'm just gonna discretely add spawn proofing where I need it#but... that wasn't the fucking question#anyway; point is this pisses me off anyway; but I'm also so angry on like... a physical level; everything has me spitting bullets#like I had to make my cats leave my room because physically hearing my mom sneeze just upsets me so much that...#well... I kinda lose control; not like where I'd kick the cats or something; but where I might slap them away#so it's just... fuck; I hate that I often end up raising my voice in that state and yelling#I prefer when I at least keep it together enough to stay in a measured tone as I'm like 'move move move' herding them out#but yeah... it fucks me up on a really physical level#even now hours later when I've kinda calmed down; Bart's laying next to me and part of me just wants to shove him away#cause I just can't fucking stand anything at the moment#on a intellectual level... I fucking hate it cause I'm not even that mad; and I want Bart here
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its times like this when i really wish i had an SO's shoulder to cry on
Because I think i factrued/sprained my foot the other day it happened wednesday but its still pretty swollen and pops when i try to walk on it without hobbling. i know i signed up for health insurance through work. i wrote down the insurance company name as Bayside and I have my personal insurance id number but the card never came in/got lost in the mail (and i already called for one replacement that never came so idk if theyll send me a third) so i cant confirm the insurance name nor call them, but i need to because ive called/visited 5 health care facilities around me and NONE of them have even heard of Bayside. So im calling the phone number that my manager provided me with telling me that was the insurance company. I keep calling the number (and mind you ive called them before to try to get a second insurance card sent to me but that was in like April) and i get that its saturday but theres no answer and the stupid automated machine wont let me leave a voicemail. the automated answering voice on the phone also says that theyre called National Benefit Plans by SafetyNet and google says the phone number im using belongs to National Benefit Plans out in San Antonio Tx (i live no where near there). I found National Benefit Plans' website on SafetyNetPlus dot com but National Benefit Plans doesnt have their own website, just through SafetyNet, and also the SafetyNet website says on a side panel that "this is NOT insurance" and instead keeps saying "health benefits" instead so idk what the fuck ive been paying for for the last 6 months tbh and im having an emotional breakdown bc i dont want to fuck my foot up for life just cause i couldnt figure out my health insurance/benefits shit
#ive been fucking sobbing on the phone for 20 minutes calling the phone number over and over again#im about to mcfucking lose it and im sad and confused and scared because my foot is still so swollen even though it doesnt hurt very much#and google says if swelling on an injury like this persists after 48 hours to go get it looked at#all the walkin clinics near me dont have any xray techs til monday & quoted me anywhere from $130-$300 if i dont have insurance which i can#provide proof of nor am i even sure i actually have at this point and im ngl my guys i only have like $180 to my name until next friday#but then basically my entire next paycheck is going to Geico#and overall im just having a really really really bad time rn and im scared that if my foot is actually fractured im gonna fuck it up worse#by walking around on it without a boot/cast. yeah ive been sitting at work the last few days#but its front desk at a hotel so at least for the first hour of my shift and last 1.5 hours i HAVE to be standing#my foot was so swollen after work today it hurt to get my shoe off#im just really fucking stressed and anxious and confused and im sitting here sobbing my eyes out realizing theres literally no one i can#call just to vent and cry it out with#cant call my mom cause i busted my foot leaving her place after her husband got in my face & screamed at me for saying you cant hit people#cant call my siblings cause none of them can help/we dont talk often enough that i feel like i can burden them with this#i have a few casual friends but same sitch im not close enough with them that i feel comfortable venting while sobbing to them#i could call my ex but shes got a new boo now/its not her problem/we rarely talk anymore/she cant help so no point in calling#only other person who knows/is worried about me is my ex's mom but she wont be home from work for break til 2pm & its 11:30am rn#not close enough to any of my coworkers either#its times like this that i realize how truly alone i am these days with no one that can physically comfort me#which of course is only making me more upset#thats what i get for being depressed and reclusive the last 2 years and only letting people get an arms length reach from me emotionally#there is a medical clinic i can go to that is a 50 minute drive from me and without insurance you just pay a $20 sliding fee plus a little#extra for the care services but again theyre not open until monday and also its a 50 minute drive from me#so all im learning is i shouldve gone some place thursday morning after it happened and im fucked at least til monday#FUCK my STUPID BAKA life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#whatever. guess imma keep icing it try to keep it elevated and just endure it and hope it doesnt get worse#emma rambles#vent tag#DONT REBLOG
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Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 1)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, smut
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"Daddy? Can I ask you something?" Your and Charles' four-year-old daughter Louise, asks.
She was sitting in her car seat in the backseat of Charles car while he was driving her back to your place in Monaco. It was Sunday evening, the weekend was coming to an end and with that, Charles' time with his daughter for the week was also over.
"Of course, cherie. What is it?" He asked, briefly looking away from the road in front of him to look at his daughter behind him.
"When are you going to live with me and mommy again?" She asked innocently batting her big black eyelashes and waiting for an answer.
Charles's heart broke a little when he heard. This was the first she had asked him that since Charles had moved out of your shared apartment a year ago, and there was no way he could have prepared himself for this question.
"Oh, baby.." He sighed sadly with a pain in his chest. "I-I don't know. Maybe one day again, I hope.."
"But I want you to live with us now. I don't like it when you have to leave us."
He really didn't know what to say to her. He didn't even know how to explain the situation you found yourself in to himself, let alone to her. He could see Louise whenever he wanted, but this was some kind of agreement that the two of you had and most often it was that you had her during the week and he had her on his race-free weekends even tho sometimes he took her with him on races as well. So moments like this, when Sunday night comes and he has to return Louise to you by next Friday, were the hardest for him.
"I know, baby. I do too, it's just that at the moment, that's not possible, you know?" He said quietly tightening his grip on the steering wheel and leaning his head on the back of the seat.
"But mommy wants you to live with us too. I don't understand why don't you then?"
"Wh-what?" His breath paused briefly as he looked at Louise in the rearview mirror. "How do you know that, Lou?"
"Well, I asked her?" She sighs almost rolling her eyes at him, like, duhh how else would I know it?
"You asked her?" He chuckles. "And what did she say?"
"She said the same thing as you, maybe one day again. But I want to know when!" She says already irritated with always the same answer to her always the same question.
"Well, my love, if mom really said that, then I hope very soon." Charles says smiling, hope clearly audible in his voice. He wanted you to reconcile and be a family again so much that even this was enough to lift his spirits and restore hope in your relationship.
The drive to your apartment is over and soon Charles is knocking on your door holding Lou in his arms.
"Hello, baby!" You say excitedly as you opened the door, reaching out to Lou to take her in your arms.
"Hello" Charles greets you smiling.
"Hey, Charles" You greet him back taking Lou in your arms and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "How was the weekend? Was she good?"
"Of course, as always. We went to get new toys, her grand-mĂšre came to visit and then we went for a walk and for ice cream. It was a lot of fun." Charles says.
"You got new toys, missy? Again?" You ask tickling her and making her laugh. "Good, good. Well, thanks for bringing her back."
"It's no problem. The next weekend is the race weekend so unfortunately I won't be able to have her."
"I know, I know." You say biting the inside of your cheek feeling a bit bad knowing how hard that was for him. "Are you gonna say bye to papa?"
"Can papa put me to bed?" Louise asked.
"But it's only 8:30 baby? You wanna go to sleep already?"
"But I want daddy to do it." She says.
You were a little taken aback because you felt like she didn't want you to do it like you usually do, but of course you didn't want to deny her her wish for Charles to be the one to do it this time.
"Well, if he wants to, then sure" You say looking at him.
"Of course I want to. Come here, baby" He takes her back from your arms kissing her temple and starts walking with her to her room.
You didn't follow them because you decided to let them have a moment for themselves, but you couldn't help but remember the nights you and Charles used to do it together. Him on one side of the bed, you on the other, Lou in the middle while Charles reads a bedtime story and you both listen.
You really missed that.
You really missed him.
But it was hard for you to admit it so you swallowed your tears once again and pretended it didn't bother you.
And so while Charles was putting your daughter to sleep, you occupied yourself with sorting the laundry that was left over from earlier today in your bedroom. After about half an hour, Charles came to greet you goodbye knocking on the door frame of your bedroom.
"Hey"
"Oh, hey. Did she fall asleep?" You asked.
"Yeah, she-" His attention was soon caught by an oversized black man's hoodie that was turned inside out and lying on your bed. His gaze was glued to it, and for a moment you weren't sure what he was looking at, so you looked in that direction too.
"I can't believe it" He sneered in disappointment.
"What?"
"Are you really having someone else here in our bedroom when Lou is with me?"
"Excuse me? What? What are you-" You were shocked and stunned by his accusations.
It was indeed a man's hoodie. But since it was turned inside out, Charles didn't recognize that it was actually his sweatshirt that he had forgotten to take when he moved out, and you loved it so much that you never wanted to give it back to him. And Charles being Charles, he jumped to a conclusion without letting you have a chance to speak and explain yourself.
"I can't believe it, y/n. You could have at least let me know that you decided to move on and see other people." He continued without stopping and anger slowly rose within you. "And how can you even bring him here? To our apartment? To our bedroom?"
You were offended and you didn't even want to justify yourself anymore, you just wanted to hurt him back because he thought such a thing.
"And why do you care if someone was here, huh?" You asked crossing your arms.
"Why do I care? Because while you're busy having other guys over here, our daughter is asking me if we'll ever live together again. That's why!" He said angrily, barely holding back from slamming his fist against the wall because he was so hurt by this situation and the very thought of you being with someone else.
"S-she asked you that?"
"Yes and I almost died when she did."
You didn't know what to do at that moment. You were sad and angry at the same time, but most of all hurt for your daughter. Before you could say anything, Charles turned and left the room.
As soon as the apartment door closed, you burst into tears. He left before you could tell him that it was actually his hoodie and that at nights when you can't sleep, like you couldn't last night, you put it on because it feels like he's there.
He didn't even give you time to tell him that you wear it when you miss him too much. Just like you did last night.
part 2
#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1#f1 x reader#f1 scenario#f1 smut#f1 x female reader#f1 one shot#f1 blurb#f1 imagine#f1 fluff#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc
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AITA for being proud of my job as a regional Nightmare?
My sister told me sheâs making her own post and that if I was so sure I wasnât TA then I should make my own so here I am.
Iâm a regional Nightmare. Iâm very proud of how hard I worked to get here. Not many terrors in their 20s get this high up and itâs because I do the work. I get up at 8pm and Iâm out in the woods grinding out those quotas until dawn. Sometimes I sleep out there in my uniform just so I can be the first on scene for the multi-part jobs. Iâm efficient, Iâm punctual, and Iâm committed. My goal is to be a Cyptid by the time Iâm 30 and, to do that, I have to stay on at all times.
As a result, I work a lot. Iâm often not home for days at a time. I have a very strict training regimen and my time for friends and family is virtually nonexistent. Thatâs why when I do get the time to hang out, I prefer to spend my time intentionally. What I mean by that is that I donât want to sit on a couch when I could be lifting weights. I donât want to chill in the pool when I could be volunteering for new scares. I especially donât want to gossip over tea when I could be getting overtime.
Last Saturday, my sister invited a bunch of family over to her house. My job in the Virginia woods fell through, so I decided to go. Silly (her childhood nickname) said she had something important to tell the family so I thought it wouldnât be a waste of my time.
Key word: thought.
When I got to Sillyâs house, I was surprised to see so many cars out front. Our parents were there and our older brother. The house was packed. There were cousins, aunts, uncles and a ton of people I didnât know.
At first the event was fine. Sillyâs always been a good cook (see, I know youâre reading this, Silly, and see? I do compliment you when do something actually good) and everyone was really enjoying the flank steak (though I did have to save it before she cooked it medium well). But as the day wore on, I could tell people were getting bored. Silly and Mom were focused on cleaning up and said that dessert would have to wait until her fiance got home. Which was kind of rude to be late and I felt really bad for Silly. It seems like my soon to be brother-in-law (BIL for short) is never around when she needs him.
In an effort to help, I engaged some of the people I didnât know in conversation because the party was getting a little dead and I didnât want one of my sisterâs parties to fail. I was trying hard not to think about the time I was wasting waiting for my future BIL so it also served as a distraction.
It turns out one of the guys was a fellow terror. He worked a corporate job and we talked for a while about the pros of being freelance like me. He asked me a lot of questions and I was happy to mentor another terror. Corporate can suck the art out of what we do. My clients only care if the quota for their mission is met and donât enforce such strict timelines. They come to me for quality. Poor guy barely had time to mend his uniform between scares (his cloak was tattered and his hook hand was rusty) so I recommended my tailor and blacksmith.
The guy and I exchanged information. I gave him my business card and he looked for one of his. While he looked, I felt nature calling so I headed upstairs to use my sisterâs bathroom (like hell I was going to use the same one as my Uncle Joe). From up there, I saw my future BIL pull into the driveway.
 Being a regional Nightmare is a tough job. Like I said, I have to train a lot to keep my certification. So I thought itâd be a good idea to get a scare on my BIL both to punish him for being late and to make up for all the time Iâd already wasted at the party.
So I waited for him to come upstairs to change and, when he did, I pulled out the works. I darkened the room and fell back into the shadows. Then, while he groped for the light switch, I stretched out my leg (I have an extra joint in them) and tried to nudge him. I honestly didnât expect for him to trip and I DEFINITELY didnât expect for him to fall backwards. Iâve been practicing this skill on my family since I was sixteen and got the leg extension mod and none of them ever fell like that.
My future BIL fell down the stairs. I panicked and raced over to look over the banister. He was fine! He wasnât bleeding or anything and, when I saw that, I started to laugh.
Everyone freaked out though. They all said I was being immature and bullying my BIL. I told them it wasnât bullying, it was my actual job. I said that I was just joking and didnât know my BIL, a former âCryptidâ, would take it so hard.
My mom jumped in and backed me up, but my sister has always been the Queen of the castle. Silly and Dad kicked me out ( I mean, I let them, Iâve got enhanced strength and I didnât want to hurt them). Dad called me a disgrace and to not come back home.
I asked him if he was really kicking me out just because I wanted to show off my skills a little? And he said yes. And Silly said I had it coming to me for a long time.
I donât even know what went wrong.
 So AITA for taking pride in my work?
---.
SillyCreeper says: Oh my god, you actually made this post? Youâre an actual idiot. For anyone who believes this story, read mine before you vote. My brother left out a few details like how the party was my GENDER REVEAL PARTY and that heâs not a regional Nightmare, heâs a  Slasher for hire.
OP replies: I am TRAINED to operate as a regional Nightmare. That makes me an independent regional Nightmare.
SillyCreeper replies: Regional Nightmares donât steal failed missions from corporate Slashers
OP replies: Get your own post, Silly
SillyCreeper: Oh, I already did. Have fun being torn apart on yours, dumbass.
-----
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read Silly's AITA post a week early, please consider becoming a patron (X)!
Aita for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a Scare on my husband?
I'm working on this anthology during November and I'm having a blast with this story in particular! The family drama keeps going on and on
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god i hate people :(
#if ur gonna get drunk dont go out#just watched a group of three guys get out of a car and go into this gas station#my stepmoms the only one here and her shift was supposed to end an hour ago#and the one guy walked in with an open container of alcohol yeah#she asks him to fucking leave#as one does#and he does the stereotypical little sobling maneuver#where he sits right putside the doorway and yells at his friends about how she obviously didnât want him in her store cause hes black#like no buddy nobody gives a fuck if ur black my issue is that ur drunk and disorderly and just got out of the drivers seat of a brand new#sports car yeah#like. yeah#so he finally stops yelling and he comes over and knocks over the whole fucking pallete of water cases sitting outside yea#which is fucking frightening cause that shits heavy as fuck#but they finally left and mom called the police and gave them their plate number#which i kinda feel bad about cause weâre in florida and idk what the probability is of them getting screwed over for smth they werenât#actually doing#and i went up and fixed all the waters so my stepmom didnt have to#also her birthday is tomorrow and if she has to start her birthday at work and then come work again 2-10#i am going to lose my shit
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Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.
Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.
Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.
She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.
Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.
Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.
Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.
The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.
At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.
Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.
She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.
They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).
The end~
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okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch đ€
Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too đ€) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him đ€
(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language đ)
keeping score
đ€ minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron đŠ wc; 1.5k
early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.
as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.
but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.
"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.
you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."
he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.
however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"
your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."
"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."
his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.
you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.
but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.
"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."
it hadn't rained last night.
the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.
as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.
"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"
you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.
"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.
"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.
your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.
just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.
while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.
and a minute or two later, aaron joined.
as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.
"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"
you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."
"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."
with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.
"how are you feeling?"
"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.
"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"
oh.
"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."
aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.
so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.
"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.
aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."
aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.
and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.
"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."
"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.
"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."
you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.
once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.
"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.
aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."
"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."
a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"
"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."
he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"
"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."
aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."
"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."
"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x you
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b054c2165f4b8ed18c5868b9896414d2/0a6fe573c7aa37e2-f3/s540x810/07d8787321e87172e8a31f8cf54839add14b12a3.jpg)
MEOW OR NEVER ౚৠGETO SUGURU X READER
summary: when your mom told you to steer clear of men, you didn't think she meant all of them - fur, whiskers, and all. but hey, maybe naming your cat mr. pickles was where you went wrong, considering she's apparently a mrs. now. and oh, she's pregnant. great. just fantastic. enter suguru geto, your drop-dead gorgeous neighbor, who's not just good at stealing glances but also at being a reluctant father - well, kitten father. turns out, his annoyingly smug orange menace named gojo's the reason you're now an unplanned (grand)parent. is this co-parenting arrangement going to end in peace, or in pieces? or worse, feelings? spoiler alert: suguru geto's got more than just child support to offer, and he's about to prove it in ways that'll have you questioning who the real stray here is.
warnings & tags:Â fluff and crack, eventual romance, no angst, geto is a year older than reader, geto is an (international) law student implied to be rich, reader's college program is not specified, strangers to friends to lovers, eventual smut (oral, f & m + 69). cast: geto, catoru (gojo is a tabby cat), yaga, sukuna, choso, yuuji, shoko, brief mention of utahime and nanami.
author's note: how i feel adding a graphic after not touching any editing apps since eight grade: đșđșđșđșđș. first long-fic on here and it is obviously for my @norikuna <3 i had so much fun writing geto, i hope you like this, and yes i named her mr. pickles after your meet-cute fic/s. âŒïž i recommend reading on ao3, as tumblr's formatting this fic very poorly and often times the fic has long paragraphs mashed together. i'm so sorry, but please enjoy!
chapter one: guess who's expecting (hint: it's not you)
when your mother warned you to stay away from men, you didnât realize she meant all species of men. in your defense, you didnât even know mr. pickles wasâŠwell, a dudette. a full-fledged woman, even.
judging by her usual air of indifference toward the struggles of lifeâwhether it be a broken mug, burnt toast, or the existential dread and fear of capitalism looming over youâyouâd assumed she was male. an assumption, it seems, born of sheer hubris. after all, youâd done thorough background checks on everyone else you let into your life. everyone except the stray cat that had waddled into your overpriced studio apartment one rainy night and decided it was hers.
the truth? you didnât mind. between cramming for your degree and surviving the post-mortem of your relationships (both romantic and platonic, because apparently humans are terrible at consistency), mr. pickles became the one reliable constant in your life. albeit a hairy, aloof constant who occasionally brought you hairballs and dead bugs as sacrificial offerings to her goddess. you, of course, were said goddess.
any normal, functioning adult would have taken her to a shelter, or maybe put up a flyer: âfound: one stray cat, bad attitude included.â but you, lonely soul that you were, took her in. except, it hadnât been that simple. no, the first night you met her was anything but serene.
you were drunk. plastered. wobbling through the door with a bag of takeout in one hand and your heels in the other, ready to collapse onto your bed and dream about a life where rent didnât cost your soul. but instead of an empty apartment greeting you, there she was. sitting smack in the middle of your living room like some furry squattersâ rights advocate, tail flicking with utter disdain.
you froze, still holding the doorknob, as your eyes locked with hers.
"what theâ" you whispered, blinking hard to confirm you werenât hallucinating. nope, she was real.
the cat let out a long, guttural âyeowwwwwwwwwl,â like she was just as horrified by you as you were by her.
you screamed. naturally. "who are you?! how did you get in here?! securityâs supposed to be goodâoh my god, is that a rat?"
she screamed back, launching into an impressive round of yowls that rattled your very bones. it became a chaotic symphony of you, still holding your takeout, pointing at her with your shoe, while she darted back and forth in an apparent panic over your panic.
"okay, okay," you gasped after what felt like hours but was probably five minutes. "justâcalm down! iâll call the cops or animal control orâdo i even know animal controlâs number? is that a thing people know?!"
the cat paused mid-panic, tilting her head as if considering whether you were worth the hassle. then, slowly and with the grace of a self-proclaimed queen, she sat back down.
you stood there, panting, wide-eyed, and still clutching your takeout like a lifeline. "areâŠare you done? can i move now?"
she gave a single chirp in response.
you blinked. "was that a yes?"
another chirp.
"okay, cool. good talk," you muttered, inching toward the kitchen counter to set your stuff down. "you know, you really picked the wrong apartment to haunt, bro. you donât wanna hang out here."
she followed you, hopping onto the counter with zero hesitation.
"oh, youâve got nerve," you grumbled, waving a hand. "get down. thatâsâŠoh my god, is that chicken grease? youâre gonna get salmonella. do cats get salmonella?"
the cat meowed, which you took as a very sarcastic no.
you sighed. "great. now iâve got a cat."
letâs rewind back to the future, to the moment you found out mr. pickles had a party of tiny paws brewing in her belly. it wasnât an epiphany that hit you like a bolt of lightningâno, it was a series of increasingly bizarre events that gradually chipped away at your ignorance until the horrifyingly adorable truth came crashing down.
first, letâs talk about âpinking up.â apparently, around 16-20 days into pregnancy, a catâs nipples turn pinker and more prominentâa fact you learned after a very awkward google search. not that you were actively inspecting mr. picklesâ nipples. that feltâŠwrong. but you did notice, eventually. the weight gain started subtly, a little extra fluff around her midsection that you brushed off as the result of switching to a premium brand of cat food. "guess the organic kibbleâs working," you mumbled one evening as mr. pickles sprawled on the couch like a spoiled heiress. she blinked at you, unimpressed, before rolling onto her side, belly on full display. it was⊠rounder than usual. suspiciously so. but denial is a hell of a drug.
then came the morning she beat you to the bathroom. literally.
you were nursing a wicked hangover, the kind that makes you reconsider every life decision leading up to the night before. groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed and toward the bathroom, only to freeze in the doorway. there was mr. pickles, perched in your shower cubicle, hurling her guts out like sheâd been partying harder than you. "what theâ" you started, but she cut you off with another violent retch. you just stood there, slack-jawed, your own nausea momentarily forgotten. "are you⊠hungover? can cats be hungover?" she ignored you, finishing her business before hopping out of the shower with a nonchalance that screamed youâll clean that up, right?
and the sleeping? donât even get started on the sleeping. mr. pickles, your once lively (read: temperamental) companion, now spent her days passed out in the weirdest positions. youâd leave for class, catch her sprawled upside down on the couch with her legs in the air, and come back hours later to find her in the exact same spot. the first time it happened, you panicked.Â
âmr. pickles?â you whispered, crouching beside her. no response.Â
"oh my god, are you dead?" you poked her back. nothing.Â
just as you were about to call your landlord and have him prepare for the worst, mr. pickles let out the laziest, most judgmental yawn youâd ever heard.
then came the personality shift. the mr. pickles you knewâthe one who hissed at your laptop every time you opened it, as if microsoft word had committed a personal offenseâwas gone. in her place was a clingy, purring ball of affection. she started curling up on your lap while you worked, purring loud enough to rival an industrial saw. âawwww, whoâs a good kitty?â you cooed, melting into the moment. and then she shed enough fur on your clothes to build a second cat.
but the final straw, the one that shattered your fragile understanding of reality, was the nesting.
you came home one evening to find mr. pickles frantically rearranging your laundry basket, clawing at the clothes and dragging them into a fluffy pile. she paused when you entered, her eyes wild with an intensity youâd never seen before.
"uhhâŠwhat are you doing?" you asked, only to be met with a deep, guttural growl. "okay, thatâs new," you muttered, backing away slowly. "you doâŠwhatever that is."
it hit you then. the weight gain, the puking, the clinginess, the nesting. oh my god.
"oh my god," you whispered, clutching the counter for support. "mr. pickles is a girl."
your world tilted. memories of every time you called her sir or buddy flashed before your eyes. you were the problem.
you rushed her to the vet the next day, bursting through the door like a contestant on a reality show. "sheâs been acting weird," you blurted to the receptionist. "and by weird, i meanâŠis she pregnant?"
one checkup later, the vet turned to you with a warm smile and uttered the words that changed everything: âcongratulations, youâre a mother.â
your jaw dropped. "what? no. no, iâm not. sheâsâsheâs the mother!" you gestured wildly to mr. pickles, who was now lounging on the exam table like this was all very boring. the vet chuckled. âwell, technically, that makes you a grandmother.â
a grandmother. you, a college student, were a grandmother.
as you drove home in stunned silence, mr. pickles stretched out in the passenger seat, her belly looking smugly round. you glanced at her, still reeling.
âdoes this mean i have to start calling you mrs. pickles now?â
she purred. of course she purred.
chapter 2: welcome to parenthood, kinda
the day after the vet visit, you were a woman on a mission. holding mr. pickles up like she was a fragile artifact, you found yourself wandering the corridors of your apartment building, knocking on doors and attempting to uncover the truth behind your felineâs unexpected condition. sure, your mother raised you single-handedly, but did that mean you had to take on the role of a cat grandmother solo? absolutely not.
the first stop was masamichi yaga, your landlord. you werenât sure why you started with the most intimidating person in the building, but desperation has a way of clouding judgment. his door creaked open, revealing the towering man himself, wearing a slightly bemused expression. âuhh âŠgood morning, mr. yaga,â you stammered, clutching mr. pickles tighter for moral support. âiâuhâwanted to askâŠdo you have a cat?â he raised an eyebrow. âa cat?â
âyeah,â you said, awkwardly adjusting your grip on mr. pickles. âbecause, um, sheâs pregnant, and i was wondering ifâwell, you knowâŠâ
yaga blinked at you for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. âno, i donât have a cat. the only thing i house around here is pandas.â
you stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came. â...pandas?â
âyup. no cats.â
you decided not to press further. âright. okay. thanks, anyway.â you shuffled away, cheeks burning, as he closed the door behind you with a definitive click.
next, you made your way to chosoâs apartment. youâd seen the guy a few times in the hallwayâtall, always dressed like heâd just walked out of a corporate ad, with an aura of quiet exhaustion that screamed salaryman. when he opened the door, he looked down at you with mild surprise, a coffee mug in one hand. âhi,â you greeted, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze. âi, uh, have a question. do you happen to own a cat?â
choso blinked, glancing at mr. pickles, who let out a disinterested meow. âno, i donât.â
âare you sure?â you pressed. âbecause my cat is pregnant, andââ
âiâm sure,â he cut in gently, though his tone held the same weariness you felt every monday morning. âi barely have time to take care of my brothers, let alone a pet.â
âbrothers?â
âyeah.â he took a sip of his coffee. âone of themâs a high schooler. the other oneâŠwell, heâs sukuna.â
you froze. âwait. sukuna? as in, the scary guy with the tattoos who glares at everyone when he smokes in the hallway?â
choso nodded. âheâs not so bad once you get to know him.â
you had your doubts but decided not to argue. âright. okay. thanks anyway.â
your next stop was shokoâs apartment. youâd always admired her cool, no-nonsense vibe, but the dark circles under her eyes told you she probably didnât have time for a pet. still, you knocked. when the door opened, shoko stood there, looking like she hadnât slept in three days but somehow still pulled it off effortlessly.
âhey,â you said, trying to sound casual. âdo you have a cat?â
âa cat?â she repeated, leaning against the doorframe. âno. iâm barely home enough to keep my plants alive, let alone a pet.â
you nodded, biting back a sigh. âyeah, that makes sense.â
âwhy?â she asked, eyeing mr. pickles. âis she yours?â
âyeah. sheâs pregnant.â
shoko raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. âcongrats, grandma.â
âdonât remind me,â you groaned. âthanks anyway.â
lastly, you tried suguru getoâs apartment. according to the buildingâs handbook, he was your neighbor on the floor above. but when you knocked, there was no answer. âgreat,â you muttered, glancing down at mr. pickles. âour prime suspect isnât even home. what now?â
mr. pickles responded by squirming in your arms, clearly unimpressed with your sleuthing skills.
defeated, you trudged back to your apartment, where the reality of impending grandmotherhood sank in further. with no leads and no one to pin the blame on, you flopped onto your couch, setting mr. pickles down beside you. she stretched lazily, looking far too pleased with herself.
âthis is your fault, you know,â you muttered, pointing a finger at her. she responded with a purr, curling up into a fluffy ball of indifference.
great. just great. looks like you were in this aloneâagain.
evening rolled in, and with it came mr. picklesâs dinner time. lately, youâd been overly cautious about her diet and moodâthe whole pregnancy thing and allâbut tonight? tonight she was testing your last nerve. there she was, stationed by the door like her life depended on it, yowling dramatically with an almost operatic flair. her tail flicked like a metronome, her cries growing more pitiful by the second. âoh, come on,â you groaned, setting her food bowl down with an exasperated sigh. âwhatâs with you tonight? youâve eaten like, three times already.â
mr. pickles, naturally, ignored you, clawing at the door with all the determination of someone who just had to get out. âfine,â you muttered, stomping toward the door. âbut i swear, if thereâs a stray out there, you can explain yourself, motherfââ
you flung the door open mid-rant and promptly froze.
standing in your doorway was a man. a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome man with long, silky black hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck and bangs that framed his angular face like heâd just stepped off the cover of handsome landlord quarterly. he wore a plain black sweater, dark trousers, and an expression that was equal parts bemused and apologetic. but your attention snapped to the cat he was holding aloftâan orange tabby with piercingly bright blue eyes that were somehow both smug and indifferent at the same time. âuhâŠhi,â he said, his voice deep and smooth with an edge of uncertainty. âthis yours?â
âthatâsâŠnot my cat,â you managed, pointing awkwardly at the tabby.
âfigured,â he said, glancing past you into your apartment where mr. pickles was now peeking out, her ears perked and tail bristled like an antenna. âheâs mine. nameâs gojo. found him sitting outside my door screaming his lungs out, so i thought maybeâŠâ his words trailed off as his gaze flicked between you, mr. pickles, and gojo. then, realization dawned on his face.
âwait.â he looked at mr. pickles, then back at you. âis your catâŠ?â
âpregnant?â you supplied flatly. âyep. as of about a week ago, thanks for asking.â
getoâbecause of course youâd figured out that this very handsome man was suguru geto from the floor aboveâblinked, visibly processing this information. âhuh,â he said finally, his brow furrowing as he glanced at gojo. âbutâŠgojoâs neutered.â
âwhat?â you blurted, staring at the smug orange tabby who looked anything but neutered. âyeah, had it done ages ago.â geto tilted his head, clearly as baffled as you. âso how the hellâŠ?â you pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache blooming. âyouâre saying thereâs no way it couldâve been him?â
ânot unless he figured out how to reverse a neuter,â geto said dryly, his lips twitching in a bemused smile. you both looked at the cats theâgojo, lounging smugly in getoâs arms, and mr. pickles, glaring daggers from the safety of the couch. âokay,â you muttered, mostly to yourself. âif not gojo, then who? because i donât exactly let her out, and sheâs been acting weird for weeks.â
âwellâŠâ geto began, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. âhe did sneak out a couple of times last month, but i didnât thinkââ
âoh my god,â you groaned, cutting him off. âare you telling me your supposedly neutered cat is actually some kind of feline lothario who managed to knock up my cat on one of his escapades?â
âitâs not like i planned this,â geto defended, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. you shot him a look, but before you could respond, gojo meowed loudly, almost like he was bragging. âgreat,â you muttered, throwing your hands up. âjust great. now i have to deal with kittens, rent, and figuring out how the hell to co-parent with the guy next door who canât keep his cat under control.â
geto chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with genuine amusement. âwell, if it helps, iâm pretty good with kids. or kittens, in this case.â you stared at him, incredulous. âthis isnât funny.â
âoh, come on,â he teased, his smirk widening. ïżœïżœïżœitâs a little funny.â you groaned again, retreating into your apartment. âthis is a nightmare.â
âor an adventure,â geto countered, stepping back into the hallway with a casual wave. âlet me know if you need any help. babysitting, moral support, whatever.â and just like that, he was gone, leaving you with a very pregnant mr. pickles, a smug orange tabby, and far too many questions about how youâd managed to land yourself in this ridiculous situation.
-
the realization hit you as soon as you pressed "send." oh no. oh no, no, no.Â
did you really just text suguru getoâyour neighbor, a man who likely had better things to do than deal with your ridiculous antics a demand for child support? for cats? you flopped face-first onto your couch, groaning into a throw pillow. âwhat the hell is wrong with me?â mr. pickles, lounging on the armrest, flicked her tail and let out a smug little chirp, as if sheâd orchestrated the entire debacle. âyouâre no help,â you muttered, rolling onto your back to glare at her.
but it was too late now. the text was sent, sitting in getoâs inbox like an uninvited guest at a party. you imagined him reading it, probably over a cup of coffee in his immaculate apartment upstairs, eyebrows raised in disbelief before muttering something like, what the hell is this?
âwhat was i expecting?â you asked the ceiling. âa courtroom? with gojo cat wearing a tiny tie and confessing his sins?â mr. pickles yawned, completely uninterested in your spiral.
âugh,â you grumbled, standing up. âwhatever. itâs his problem now.â
-
bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, you shuffled to the door the next morning to grab the newspaper. the universe owed you at least one boring morning after last nightâs embarrassment. but as you opened the door, your sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. there, sitting on your front porch, was a 5kg bag of premium cat food, the kind youâd seen in the store once and immediately walked past because it cost more than your monthly grocery budget. âwhat theâŠâ you muttered, crouching down to inspect it.
taped to the bag was a folded piece of paper with the words âchild support :)â scrawled in smooth, confident handwriting. beneath the note was what looked suspiciously like a paw print in ink. you squinted, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. âno. absolutely not. did heâdid they actually ink up the cat for this?â you glanced down the hallway, half-expecting geto to pop out from behind a corner and yell âgotcha!â but it was eerily quiet. mr. pickles, who had wandered over to investigate, sniffed the bag and let out an excited meow, her tail curling in approval. âof course youâre happy,â you said, picking up the note and reading it again. âthis is like winning the lottery for you.â
you flipped the paper over, looking for more, but that was it. just âchild support :)â and a smug paw print. âoh my god,â you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. âheâs good. heâs really good.â you set the bag inside and grabbed your phone, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. what were you even supposed to say to this? thank you? an apology for being unhinged?
before you could overthink it, a new message lit up your screen.
geto: hope this helps. let me know if you need anything else. gojo says hi.
you stared at the message for a long moment, torn between laughter and mortification.
âwhat do i even say to that?â you asked mr. pickles, who was now trying to claw her way into the bag of food. she didnât respond, obviously, but you took her enthusiasm as a sign to type out the least embarrassing reply you could muster.
you: thanks. mr. pickles says hi too. sorry about the text, was half-asleep. really appreciate this though.
a reply came almost instantly.
geto: no problem. wasnât sure how much to get, so i just grabbed the fanciest one. figured she deserves it.
you snorted, shaking your head. âwhat are you, cat royalty?â
mr. pickles let out a pleased chirp, pawing at the bag triumphantly, and you couldnât help but laugh. whatever this situation was, at least mr. pickles was happy. and, okay, maybe suguru geto wasnât completely terrible either.
you thought life couldnât get more ridiculous after the whole âchild supportâ stunt. but somehow, suguru geto managed to raise the bar so high that it was practically doing pull-ups in the stratosphere. because when you stepped out of your apartment to grab some fresh air and regroup after being up all night with a cuddly mr. pickles, you realized geto had turned this entire ordeal into a neighborhood event. âdid he⊠throw a party without telling me?â you muttered to yourself, narrowing your eyes as you spotted a small, hand-decorated sign taped to the landlordâs door. it read: "congrats to the new parents: gojo & mr. pickles!â
ânew parents?â you said aloud, incredulous.
as if summoned by your confusion, chosoâs door creaked open, and yuuji popped his head out, looking entirely too enthusiastic for such an early hour. âhey, neighbor! did you see the banner?â you blinked at him. âbanner?âÂ
yuuji pointed down the hallway. you squinted and, sure enough, there it was â a banner strung across the hallway ceiling that read: "welcome baby kittens!!!" in what looked like glitter glue. âoh my god.â you pressed a hand to your forehead. âhe didnât.â
âhe totally did!â yuuji grinned, stepping fully into the hallway. âhe came by earlier and told me about gojo being a dad. so cool, right? i mean, gojoâs kind of an idiot, but hey, every cat deserves a shot at fatherhood.â
âyuuji,â you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. âheâs not an actual dad. this isnât a sitcom. itâs justâŠbiology.â yuuji shrugged. âbiology, destiny, same thing. oh, by the way, geto dropped off cookies! want one?â you looked down and noticed yuuji holding a plate of cookies shaped like tiny cats.
âwhat theâdid he bake these?â
ânah, i think he bought them,â yuuji said, biting into one. âbut still. pretty neat, huh?â you groaned, muttering, âneat isnât the word iâd use.â
just as you turned to head back into your apartment and escape the madness, there was a loud, insistent scratching at your door. you froze. âdonât tell meâŠâ
yuuji, still chewing on his cookie, pointed. âthatâs probably gojo. heâs been making rounds all morning trying to visit your cat. i think heâs really taking this fatherhood thing seriously.â you stormed to your door and there he wasâgojo cat, gojo the cat, his bright blue eyes wide and hopeful as he pawed at the doorway like a love-struck romeo. âoh, for crying out loud,â you muttered, scooping him up and holding him at armâs length as you entered your house. âwhat do you think youâre doing?â gojo meowed pitifully, his tail flicking as he looked past you toward mr. pickles, who was curled up on her blanket, looking utterly unimpressed. âsheâs not interested, casanova,â you told him, turning to yuuji. âcan you take him back before he climbs my curtains again?â yuuji laughed, taking the cat from you. âno problem. come on, gojo. letâs give her some space.â
as yuuji disappeared down the hall with gojo, you closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. but before you could even sit down, your phone buzzed.
geto: hope youâre enjoying the festivities. gojoâs a little excited, but who can blame him? parenthood changes you.
you stared at the message, your eye twitching.
you: i'm one sleepless night away from snapping. please stop turning my life into a hallmark movie.
geto: donât be shy. youâre the real hero here, grandma.
you groaned, tossing your phone onto the couch. mr. pickles, who had been watching the entire ordeal with an air of feline superiority, let out a small, smug purr. âdonât you start,â you told her, flopping onto the couch. âat least itâs a long weekend.â but deep down, you knew there was no such thing as peaceânot when suguru geto and his ridiculous orange menace were involved.
-
suguru geto was not having a good day.
he sighed, leaning back against his couch as the familiar hum of embarrassment settled over him. gojo cat, sprawled across the armrest, gave a half-hearted meow, probably to mock him. heâd woken up to him scratching at his front door like a lunatic, yowling for his morning ritual of inspecting the hallway for signs of mr. pickles. the normally smug and self-satisfied orange menace had been acting weird for daysârestless, meowing at windows, and straight-up bolting every time geto so much as opened the front door. it had taken geto exactly one trip downstairs to realize why.
you. or more specifically, your cat.
geto hadnât even known you had a cat until heâd knocked on your door last week, with mr. pickles in the background like some furry empress. now, not only did he know, but he also had the dubious honor of being the grandfather of mr. picklesâ unborn kittens. âhow did it even come to this?â he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the glittery âwelcome baby kittens!!!â banner heâd put up in the hallway. he knew he was making things worse for himself, but honestly, it was better than sitting in his apartment, spiraling. he sighed, looking down at gojo, who was perched on the armrest of the couch, lazily licking a paw. âyou couldnât just chill, could you?â geto said, narrowing his eyes at the cat. âno, you had to go and ruin my already complicated life. do you know how awkward this is? do you?â
gojo blinked at him, clearly unbothered. âof course you donât,â geto muttered. âyouâre a cat.â
the thing was, geto had genuinely thought heâd be cool about this whole situation. sure, it was a little weird to be co-parenting kittens with the girl heâd had a hallway crush on for months, but it wasnât like he couldnât handle it. except he wasnât handling it. heâd told yuuji. heâd told yaga. heâd even left cookies for shoko. and now half the building knew about gojoâs escapades. âwhat am i doing?â he groaned, leaning back on the couch and covering his face with his hands. âyou know, this is all your fault,â geto muttered, glaring at the cat. gojo, unbothered, blinked lazily.
geto had been a lot of things in his years of lifeâstudent, aspiring lawyer, occasional cat dadâbut one thing he wasnât was smooth when it came to you. you, the girl from another department who lived one floor below him. you, the one who always looked like you belonged in a wes anderson movie, with your half-hidden smiles and humour. you, who somehow managed to make even the most mundane hallway interactions feel like they had a gravitational pull. geto groaned, pressing his palms into his face. he was this close to becoming a tragic clichĂ©.Â
it wasnât like heâd never tried to talk to you before. he had. there was that one time in the campus library, where heâd psych himself up for twenty minutes only for you to leave before he could string a coherent sentence together. or the time in the cafeteria when he thought about offering you a seat at his table but chickened out because he was certain his friends would tease him for weeks. âthis is what rock bottom feels like,â he muttered to himself.
he wasnât even supposed to live in this building. as an international law major with a full schedule and internships on the horizon, he shouldâve been in one of the fancier complexes closer to campus, but fateâor sheer bad luckâhad landed him here. not that he could complain. not when you were his downstairs neighbor. he had always figured you were out of reach, though. you had this aura of being completely in your own worldâpoised, a little reserved, but not in a way that came off as unapproachable. more like you were quietly observing the chaos around you, letting it wash over you like a passing breeze. and heâd been content to admire you from afar. well, mostly content. but now? there was a knock at the door.Â
geto froze.
âplease donât let it be her,â he whispered, praying to whatever higher power might be listening.
it was you. standing in his apartment building, holding a note he wrote about âchild support.â
âhey,â you said, holding up a piece of paper. âyou forgot this.â
âoh,â he said dumbly. âright. thanks.â
you stepped inside, looking around at the various cat-themed decorations geto had somehow acquired in the past 24 hours. âso⊠big fan of cats, huh?â you asked, raising an eyebrow. geto felt his face heat up. âuh, yeah. something like that.â you smirked, crossing your arms. âyou know, you didnât have to go all out like this. itâs not that big of a deal.â
ânot a big deal?â geto repeated, incredulous. âyour cat is having kittens with my cat. thatâs, like⊠monumental.â you rolled your eyes. âtheyâre cats , geto. not royal heirs.â
âstill,â he said, crossing his arms defensively. âiâm just trying to be responsible here.â you looked at him for a long moment, and geto swore he saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in your eyes. âresponsible?â you repeated. âis that why youâve turned our hallway into a petting zoo?â geto opened his mouth to argue but stopped when gojo jumped down from the couch and strutted over to you, rubbing against your legs like the shameless flirt he was. âtraitor,â geto muttered under his breath. you crouched down to pet gojo, a small smile tugging at your lips. âwell, at least someone knows how to make a good impression.âÂ
geto stared at you, his brain short-circuiting. âuh, yeah,â he said finally. âheâs⊠heâs good at that.â you stood up, brushing cat fur off your hands. âanyway, thanks for the food. mr. pickles appreciates it.â
âno problem,â geto said, trying to sound casual. âyou know, if you ever need help with⊠anything, just let me know.â you raised an eyebrow. âlike what? cat parenting classes?â
âsure,â geto said, shrugging. âor, you know, anything else.â you gave him a long, considering look before finally nodding. âiâll keep that in mind,â you said, turning to leave. âthanks, grandpa.â
geto groaned as the door closed behind you. âwhat am i even doing?â he muttered again, looking down at gojo, who had jumped back onto the couch, looking entirely too smug. the cat meowed, as if to say, youâre welcome.
chapter 3: first we stalk, then we brunch
later in the evening, you found yourself huddled under your comforter, laptop balanced precariously on your knees. mr. pickles was curled up at your feet, occasionally flicking her tail, as if silently judging you. you ignored her. tonight, you had a mission: to do a deep dive into the enigma that was suguru geto. you werenât proud of yourself, okay? but curiosity had officially killed the catâor at least put her temporarily out of commission. like any sensible person armed with curiosity and internet access, you turned to linkedin. not instagram, not facebookâlinkedin. because nothing screams âserious investigationâ like stalking someoneâs professional achievements. âletâs see what weâve got, mr. pickles,â you muttered, typing âsuguru getoâ into the search bar on the holy grail of professional snooping. mr. pickles perched regally at the foot of your bed, her gaze judgmental as ever. âdonât give me that look,â you muttered. âiâm doing this for you.â
within seconds, his profile loaded up, and your jaw practically hit the floor.
suguru geto wasnât just good-looking. oh no. he was an overachiever of the highest order. his profile picture was annoyingly perfect: a candid (but totally staged) shot of him sitting at a cafĂ©, holding a cup of coffee in one hand while looking thoughtfully into the distance, as if heâd just solved world hunger. his headline read:
suguru geto | international law student | aspiring global policymaker | passionate about justice and equality
âugh,â you groaned, scrolling further. âpassionate about justice? who is this guy?â his bio didnât help matters. it was filled with phrases like âdedicated to fostering positive global changeâ and âcommitted to bridging the gap between policy and implementation.â
âcommitted to being annoyingly perfect, maybe,â you muttered, side-eyeing mr. pickles. she let out a half-hearted meow that you chose to interpret as agreement. his experience section was even worseâor better, depending on how you looked at it. a summer internship at the UN where he âassisted in drafting resolutions and collaborated with member states on sustainable development initiatives.â worked as a legal intern at some fancy law firm with a french name you couldnât pronounce, where he âfocused on international human rights cases, with a specific emphasis on refugee protection.â not to mention being a volunteer coordinator for a charity in sri lanka, where he âorganized relief efforts and distributed supplies to displaced families during the holiday season.â
âokay, mr. pickles,â you said, glancing at the unimpressed feline. âthis guyâs either a saint or a robot.â what shocked you most wasnât his saintly rĂ©sumĂ©, but the fact that he went to the same university as you. you stared at the screen, stunned. âhow the hell did i not know this?â his âeducationâ section confirmed it:
bachelorâs in international law | current student
active member of the debate team and global policy forum
that explains it, you thought. you were a year younger and in an entirely different departmentâhe probably had his head buried in treaties while you scrambled through your own projects. still, the idea of suguru walking the same hallways as you sent your mind reeling. âwas he in the cafeteria when i spilled coffee on myself that one time?â you wondered aloud. as you continued scrolling, you stumbled upon his posts. his posts swung wildly between annoyingly inspirational and oddly endearing.
the first was a very cheesy, slightly-too-polished âringing in the new yearâ post, complete with a stock photo of fireworks and an unnecessarily long caption: âas we close the chapter on another year, let us remember the power of community and resilience. cheers to 365 days of growth, learning, and striving for a better world!â
âuggghhh, gag me,â you snorted, though you couldnât help but admire how polished it all was.
then there was a post featuring none other than gojo cat sprawled on a cushion, mid-snore. the caption read: âcats are not just petsâthey are companions, teachers, and sometimes, our greatest confidants. thank you, gojo, for reminding me to appreciate the little joys in life.â
âconfidants? really?â you muttered, holding back a laugh. âwhat secrets are you sharing with your cat, suguru?â the piĂšce de rĂ©sistance, however, was a post about his recent trip to sri lanka. it included a photo of him kneeling next to a group of kids, all of them smiling brightly, while he held a giant sack of rice. âspending christmas eve here has been a humbling experience. giving is not just about material wealth but about offering hope and kindness. #holidaygiving #payitforwardâ
âoh, come on,â you groaned. âwho even has time for all of this?â mr. pickles let out an approving meow, her ears twitching at the picture. ânot you too,â you sighed. just as you were about to close the tab, a final post caught your eye. it was from a few months ago: a blurry picture of the university quad, with a caption that read: âsometimes, itâs the quiet moments on campus that remind you why you started this journey. grateful for this space, these people, and this path.â
âquiet moments, huh?â you mused, leaning back against your pillows. âmaybe heâs not all bad.â mr. pickles let out a disapproving chirp, as if to say, focus on the fact that heâs responsible for my current condition, thank you. and just when you thought youâd seen it all, there was his international cat day post. gojo cat lay sprawled in the background, his belly exposed, looking utterly unbothered. geto had written an almost poetic ode to feline companionship. âin a world filled with noise, cats remind us to listen to silence. they are the quiet guardians of our souls.â
you couldnât help but snort. âquiet guardians? mr. pickles, your baby daddy is a poet now.â mr. pickles gave a soft chirp, as if to say, better him than some nobody. âfine,â you relented, closing your laptop. âmaybe heâs not terrible. just⊠annoyingly perfect.â but as you lay back against your pillows, a nagging thought lingered: why had he never said anything? youâd walked the same hallways, shared the same campus, yet heâd never even made a passing hello. was he too busy, or something else? either way, you werenât sure whether to be impressed or annoyed. probably both.
-
suguru geto prided himself on being polished and refined. and he had standards okay? he wasnât some creep skulking around in the shadows. he was a man of composure, logic, and discipline. but all of that went out the window when it came to you. he is also an upstanding citizen who just happened to know your spotify account, which he checked semi-regularly. for research purposes, obviously. it started innocently enoughâgetting your instagram handle. no big deal. he hadnât even followed you right away, worried it might seem weird coming out of nowhere. it was all very calculated: a "friend of a friend of a classmate of a third cousin" pipeline that eventually led him to your public page. a click here, a scroll there, and boomâyour instagram aesthetic was forever seared into his memory. but social media wasnât enough. no, geto was too curious (and maybe just a bit too pathetic) to stop there. this led him to your spotify.
now, he didnât just stumble upon your spotify profile by chance. this particular treasure hunt began at a house party at the start of the year. utahime had made a collaborative playlist for everyone, and while everyone else just added their favorite songs, geto decided to dive deep. deep as in scrolling through over 150 accounts connected to the playlist just to find yours. âthere it is,â he had muttered triumphantly back then, his lips twitching into a satisfied smile. âgotcha.â and from that moment, your spotify profile became his guilty pleasure. your profile picture at the time? a blurry photo of what looked like you holding a glass of wine at some fancy rooftop bar. but the playlists were the real treasure.
your âgym ratâ playlist was his favorite, with high energy tracks, peppered with one or two questionable choices. seriously, why was there a taylor swift song in the middle of your workout playlist? your âin the clerb, we all cryinââ playlist was interesting to say the least, comprising of indie ballads, heart-wrenching acoustics, and, for some reason, a single abba track. then there was âroad trip,â featuring everything from funky throwbacks to an absurd number of songs by chappell roan. âyouâve got taste,â geto muttered to himself, clicking into the playlists one by one. âquestionable taste in some areas, but stillâŠâ he often scrolled through your profile aimlessly, not necessarily looking for anything new, but just existing in your world, even if it was through music. tonight, he found himself back on your page, like some kind of masochistic ritual.
his eyes drifted to his chrome tabs, where your spotify was bookmarked for easy access. it was right there, sandwiched between his email inbox, an online soba delivery menu, an article titled â10 Tips for Acing Your Next Law Internshipâ and a tab about international trade law regulations. âno new playlists,â he murmured, leaning back in his chair. your gym playlist hadnât been updated in six months (âwhat happened to your gym rat era?â), and your grwm playlist was untouched. âslacking, hm?â gojo cat, perched on the edge of the desk, gave him a slow blink. âboring night for you too, huh?â geto sighed dramatically, glancing over at gojo cat sprawled on his lap. the feline barely flicked an ear in response. âdonât look at me like that,â geto said, narrowing his eyes at the feline. âthis is completely normal behavior. iâm not stalking. iâm just⊠maintaining a healthy level of interest.â
âitâs not creepy,â he justified aloud, more to himself than to anyone else. âitâs resourceful. iâm just staying informed.â gojo cat stretched lazily, letting out a yawn that sounded suspiciously judgmental. âoh, donât start,â geto shot back, tapping lightly on the catâs head. âyouâre the reason i even know her in the first place.â getoâs eyes flicked to your âgym rat eraâ playlist again. still untouched. âwhat happened to that, by the way?â he asked no one in particular. âgave up? hit your personal best and retired early?â gojo cat pawed at the corner of his laptop, as if trying to close it.
âhey, no,â geto said, swatting the catâs paw away gently. âiâm in the middle of something important.â his finger hovered over the profile picture youâd updatedâsomething blurry and vaguely artsy. probably taken at a bar or cafĂ©. he debated clicking it but stopped himself. what was he expecting? some secret hidden bio like âhey, stop creepingâ? he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. âiâm not weird, right?â he asked the cat.
gojo, being a cat, offered no answer.
âright,â geto muttered. âthis is perfectly reasonable. iâm just⊠interested. itâs not like iâm walking past her door at 3 a.m. or something.â a fleeting daydream crossed his mindâwhat if the two of you had a shared playlist? something intimate and special, where you both added songs and left little comments. ââthinking of you when i added this,ââ he mused in a mockingly cheesy tone, shaking his head. âgod, what am i, thirteen?â still, the thought lingered, making him smile despite himself. just as he began to close the tab, a notification popped up.
[beef_boss_69 has followed you.]
his entire demeanor shifted. âbeef boss? beef boss?â geto practically spat the name out. âwho the hellâwhat kind of username is that?â he clicked on the profile, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the new follower. it was a faceless account, with no playlists or followers of its own. âoh, great,â he grumbled. âa bot. or worse, some guy who thinks heâs funny.â he glanced at gojo cat, who looked thoroughly unimpressed. âdonât give me that look,â geto said, pointing at the cat. âyouâd be upset too if some guy named beef boss was muscling in on your territory.â gojo cat chirped, which suguru took as a sign of agreement. âexactly,â geto said, nodding to himself. âi mean, whatâs next? chicken king 420? pork prince 88?âÂ
he sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. âi should just send the linkedin request,â he muttered to himself. ârip the band-aid off. whatâs the worst that could happen?â gojo cat let out a loud meow, almost as if to say, youâre never going to do it. âshut up,â geto shot back, though there was no heat behind his words. he closed your spotify tab, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at the thought of actually interacting with you. maybe tomorrow, he thought. or next week. or the next time beef boss made a move. as he shut his laptop, he made a mental note: tomorrow, heâd work up the nerve to send you a linkedin request. baby steps, right?
-
you werenât even sure what had pulled you out of bed that morning. was it the ungodly racket outside your door? the growing guilt of not actually reading the paper you insisted on having delivered? or maybe just the suspiciously human-sounding yowls of mr. pickles as she nested in the corner of your room? either way, youâd dragged yourself out of bed, eyes half-closed, hair resembling a birdâs nest, and shuffled toward the door in your favoriteâread: most embarrassingâpajamas. and there he was.
suguru geto, standing in front of your door in the crisp morning light, wearing an athletic jacket, sweatpants, and the expression of a man who was absolutely not ready for this level of chaos. attached to his hand was a leash, and attached to the leash was none other than gojo cat himself, strutting like he was the king of the neighborhood. âmorning,â geto greeted, his tone breezy but his face clearly betraying some inner turmoil. you blinked at him. âis that⊠is that a harness?â
âyep.â geto scratched the back of his neck. âgojo here insisted.â as if on cue, gojo cat let out an overly dramatic meow, his bright blue eyes locking onto yours. he looked like a lion surveying his kingdom =âor, more accurately, a spoiled housecat demanding tribute. âyouâre taking your cat for a walk?â you asked, still half-asleep and very much regretting this encounter. âyeah, heâs been getting a little⊠restless,â geto said, glancing down at the fluffball who was now trying to paw at your door. âand by restless, i mean clawing the walls like a maniac at 3 a.m.â gojo cat let out another meow, this one louder, and then craned his neck to peer behind you, as if expecting mr. pickles to emerge in all her pregnant glory. âokay, whatâs he doing?â you asked, narrowing your eyes at the cat. âprobably hoping to see his baby mama,â geto replied with a dry chuckle. you stared at him, your brain still buffering from the sheer audacity of that sentence. âbaby mama?â
âlook,â geto started, suddenly looking flustered, âi was wondering if you⊠i mean, if she ⊠maybe we could ââ
âspit it out.â
âdo you wanna join us for a walk?â he blurted, his cheeks faintly pink.
gojo cat meowed again, clearly seconding the idea. or maybe he was just demanding that you bring mr. pickles along. you sighed, glancing over your shoulder at the aforementioned queen of your household, who was currently sprawled on her side like a beached whale. âsheâs not exactly in the mood for exercise.â âplease,â geto said, his tone bordering on desperate. âit might do her some good. and honestly, it might keep gojo from trying to scale your window again.â you pinched the bridge of your nose. âfine. but you owe me breakfast for this.â
âdeal,â geto said immediately, his relief almost palpable.
after an embarrassingly long five minutes of wrangling mr. pickles into her carrierâcomplete with angry hisses and a swat to your handâyou emerged from your apartment, looking like you were about to march into battle. âready?â geto asked, his smile equal parts charming and sheepish. âletâs just get this over with,â you grumbled, hoisting the carrier while mr. pickles glared daggers at everyone in sight. as the four of you set off, gojo cat kept glancing back at the carrier, chirping softly as if trying to woo mr. pickles through sheer persistence. âheâs really laying it on thick, huh?â you said, raising an eyebrow. âlike father, like son,â geto joked, then immediately looked mortified at his own words. you snorted, finally cracking a smile. âcareful, geto. i might actually start thinking youâre funny.â he grinned, his confidence seemingly restored. âwell, miracles do happen.â
mr. pickles, meanwhile, let out a low growl from her carrier, clearly unimpressed with the whole ordeal. gojo cat chirped in response, pressing his face to the mesh side of the carrier in what could only be described as a show of devotion. âis he always like this?â you asked, watching the ridiculous display. âonly when heâs in love,â geto replied, shooting you a look that lingered just a second too long. you pretended not to notice the way your heart skipped a beat. âwell, he better not get his hopes up. mr. pickles isnât exactly the romantic type.â geto chuckled. âguess heâll just have to win her over.â as the morning sun climbed higher, you couldnât help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this whole ridiculous situation wasnât so bad after all.
geto meanwhile, was mentally spiraling. he didnât know what was worseâthe âlike father, like sonâ line heâd just dropped on you or the fact that you didnât immediately burst out laughing and leave him and his ridiculous orange tabby in the dust. instead, you stayed, which only made things harder for him. literally. his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure even mr. pickles could hear it from inside her carrier. he was trying to play it cool, but how was he supposed to do that when his so-called son was busy embarrassing the hell out of him? gojo cat was living his best life, pulling on his leash like a dog on a mission. his blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he trotted beside mr. pickles' carrier, occasionally pawing at the mesh as if trying to âconnectâ with his beloved. mr. pickles, for her part, was clearly over it. she sat in the carrier like a disgruntled queen, her ears flat and her glare sharp enough to cut diamonds.
âyour catâs persistent,â you said, watching as gojo cat did a full circle around the carrier before flopping dramatically on the sidewalk, belly up, in what looked like a plea for attention. âheâs⊠special,â geto replied, attempting to reel in the leash as gojo cat kicked his legs in the air, rolling onto his side to stare mournfully at mr. pickles. âgojo, stop being weird.â gojo cat let out a pitiful meow, his paws pressing against the carrier like he was performing some romeo and juliet reenactment. âis this normal?â you asked, raising an eyebrow as you crouched to take a closer look. âdefine normal,â geto deadpanned, tugging the leash again as gojo cat started to nudge his face against the carrier. âheâs just... enthusiastic. about life. and apparently, love.â
âmr. pickles looks like sheâs about to murder him.â
mr. pickles, indeed, was having none of it. when gojo cat got too close, she raised a paw and batted at the mesh with a low growl, making geto jump. âokay, timeout,â geto said, scooping gojo cat up with one arm while holding the leash in the other. gojo cat squirmed, letting out a series of indignant chirps as if protesting his removal from the âlove of his life.â âyouâre really committed to this cat dad role, huh?â you teased, standing back up. âitâs not a role,â geto replied, attempting to adjust gojo cat in his arms as the feline twisted dramatically, his tail flicking with determination. âitâs a lifestyle.â you snorted, and geto decided right then and there that he would endure any amount of humiliation for the sound of your laughter.
meanwhile, gojo cat had decided heâd had enough of the timeout. with a sudden burst of energy, he wriggled free from getoâs grip and made a beeline back to mr. picklesâ carrier. he pawed at it again, letting out a chirp that sounded suspiciously like, notice me, senpai. âjesus christ, gojo,â geto muttered, scrambling to grab the leash. âcan you give her some space for five seconds?â
âheâs determined,â you said, your lips twitching as you watched the scene unfold. âiâll give him that.â
âdetermined to get us kicked out of the building, maybe,â geto grumbled, finally managing to wrangle gojo cat back.
mr. pickles, now thoroughly fed up, turned her back to the carrier door, her tail swishing in annoyance. she let out a loud, irritated meow, as if to say, enough of this nonsense. âlooks like the queen has spoken,â you said, nodding toward mr. pickles. âyeah, well, tell that to this guy,â geto replied, holding gojo cat up like a misbehaving toddler. âi swear, heâs got no chill.â
âtakes after his dad, huh?â you said with a sly grin.
geto froze, his cheeks heating up. âiâuhâheâs not my biologicalâuhâŠâ
you laughed again, shaking your head.Â
ârelax, geto. iâm just messing with you.â but before geto could recover and try to salvage what was left of his dignity, gojo cat let out another loud meow, squirming in his grip. âgreat,â geto muttered. âand now iâm the guy whose cat ruins his chance to make a good impression.â
âwho said it was ruined?â you said casually, your gaze meeting his for a brief, heart-stopping moment. and just like that, geto decided that maybeâjust maybeâgojo cat wasnât the worst wingman in the world after all.
honestly, when you first saw geto on linkedin yesterdayâhighlighted internships, connections with every fancy-sounding legal firm, and posts that made him look like a diplomatic demigodâyou thought, oh, great. another rich boy who probably orders his coffee by listing ten modifications and has never eaten instant noodles in his life. add gojo cat into the mix, and you were sure this guy was going to be the embodiment of an annoying private school kid, complete with a pet who demanded bottled water and artisanal treats. but this? this was unexpected. geto was, dare you say it, fun. the man actually cracked jokes, didnât have that holier-than-thou attitude, and seemed genuinely nice. how was he even an international law major? werenât they supposed to be the glorified MUN kids of society?
âso, what do you think of him?â geto asked, glancing down at gojo cat, who was currently doing his best impression of an olympic sprinter, chasing a rogue leaf across the path. âhim?â you asked, smirking. âi think heâs a menace to society.â
âhey, thatâs my son youâre talking about,â geto said, mock-offended. âlike father, like son,â you shot back, and you caught the faintest twitch of his lips. âyou wound me,â geto replied dramatically, clutching his chest like youâd just dealt a fatal blow. you laughed despite yourself. âi mean, am i wrong? youâre kind of a menace too, you know. showing up with that âlike father, like sonâ line earlier.â
âthat line was gold, okay?â he said, defensive but clearly holding back a grin. âbesides, it worked. youâre still here, arenât you?â you rolled your eyes but couldnât help smiling. âyou got lucky. i needed some fresh air.â
âah, so iâm just a side quest for your morning routine. noted,â he said, looking mock-wounded again. âdonât make me regret this,â you said, though your tone was light. but then, of course, you had to spiral. because what kind of person just casually smells like bamboo? why were you even thinking about how he smelled in the first place? no, focus. you were not about to develop a crush on mr. linkedin extraordinaire.
âso, um,â geto started, scratching the back of his neck. you noticed he did that a lot when he was unsure of himself, which was oddly endearing. âdid you, uh, happen to notice we go to the same university?â
âoh, i noticed,â you said, raising an eyebrow. âwhat i didnât notice was how i never saw you around campus before.â
âi keep a low profile,â he said quickly, a little too quickly.Â
âlow profile? you? with your fifteen linkedin posts about networking events and charity galas?â you teased. he flushed, and you bit back a laugh at the sight of the ever-composed suguru geto getting flustered. âthatâs professional stuff,â he said, looking anywhere but at you. âdifferent vibe.â
âsure, mr. diplomat,â you said, grinning. âbut seriously, why havenât we crossed paths before?â
âwell, youâre a year younger,â he mumbled, âand in a different department. plus⊠i mightâveâŠâ
âmightâve what?â you pressed, leaning in just slightly.
âmightâve avoided you,â he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. âavoided me?â you repeated, blinking. âwhy?â
his face turned a shade darker. âbecause i didnât know how to talk to you, okay?â you stared at him, caught off guard by his sudden honesty. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of gojo cat rustling through the bushes filling the silence. âwell,â you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smile, âyouâre doing fine now.â he looked at you, his expression softening. âyeah, maybe.â
and just like that, the flustered energy transferred to you, because how was this guy suddenly so disarming? you quickly turned your attention to gojo cat, who had now returned, proudly carrying a twig in his mouth like it was some grand prize. âyour catâs weird,â you said, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasnât too obvious. âtakes after his owner,â geto quipped, a little more confidently this time. you snorted, shaking your head. âyeah, well, youâre lucky i donât scare easy.â
âlucky, huh?â he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile.
you groaned inwardly. maybe you were spiraling. if mr. pickles could talk, youâd be subjected to a very long, exasperated lecture right now. and honestly? sheâd have a point. because here you were, fumbling in front of what could only be described as a god-sent manâminus his questionable taste in cheesy pickup lines and feline companions. and judging by the way she was scratching insistently against the carrierâs mesh, mr. pickles had had enough. âalright, alright,â you muttered, unzipping the carrier. âbut behave, okay? no swatting.â
the minute she stepped out, in all her pregnant, regal glory, gojo cat lost his mind. if there were an olympic event for wooing, heâd be taking home gold, no contest. he was meowing nonstop, his tail flicking like crazy, hopping in excited circles around mr. pickles. âgood god,â geto muttered beside you, watching his catâs antics with a mixture of horror and amusement. âheâs⊠persistent, isnât he?â
âpersistent? your catâs acting like he just won the lottery,â you said, watching gojo cat crouch low and wiggle his butt like he was about to pounce. âmr. pickles deserves the best,â geto said with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. âshe deserves peace and quiet,â you shot back, laughing as mr. pickles calmly let gojo cat have his little moment of excitement before promptly swatting him on the nose.
gojo cat froze, blinking in shock. then, as if nothing happened, he tried again. another swat.
âhe doesnât give up, does he?â you said, shaking your head. âlike father, like son,â geto said with a shrug, and you snorted.
âoh, so youâre like that too, huh?â you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. he froze for a second, his brain clearly buffering. then he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. âi like to think i have a bit more self-control.â
âhmm,â you said, pretending to consider. âdebatable.â
âharsh,â geto said, placing a hand over his heart like heâd been wounded. things werenât any better for geto. watching you laugh at his lame attempts at humor was doing something dangerous to his brain. you were so close, and the way your eyes lit up when you laughedâŠ
he couldnât help it. he felt the same urge gojo cat mustâve feltâlike physically shaking, meowing, jumping, doing whatever it took to make sure you were looking at him. but he was a man with poise (he reminded himself), so instead of resorting to anything outrageous, he blushed furiously, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. âyou okay there?â you asked, noticing his face had turned an alarming shade of red. âyeah, yeah,â he said quickly, waving you off. âitâs, uh⊠warm out here.â you glanced up at the sky. it was barely sunny with a light breeze. âsure,â you said, smirking. âtotally the weather.â
âdonât call me out like that,â he mumbled, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck again. âyouâre cute when youâre flustered,â you said before you could stop yourself, and the words hung in the air for a second too long. his head snapped toward you, eyes wide. âwhat?â
âi â nothing ,â you said quickly, suddenly very interested in the stray thread on your sweater. âno, no, go on,â geto said, leaning in slightly, his voice teasing now. âwhat were you saying?â
âi said nothing,â you insisted, but your face was practically on fire. he grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. âmm-hmm. sure.â
you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. âmr. pickles, save me,â you muttered, but she was too busy fending off gojo catâs latest round of attention to care. and next to you, geto was grinning like an idiot, his blush finally starting to fade as he realized he might not be the only one spiraling.
amidst the awkward giggles and blushes, your stomach decided it had enough of the coy flirting and declared war. a low, awkward rumble escaped, loud enough for both you and geto to freeze. âwas thatâŠ?â geto began, his lips twitching.
âno,â you lied immediately, your face heating up. âthat was probablyâŠgojo.â as if on cue, gojo cat meowed loudly, almost like he was backing you up. but mr. pickles wasnât having it, her head snapping toward you with a âyouâre kidding, right?â look. geto, bless his golden heart, didnât press further. instead, he scooped up a very indignant gojo, who was in the middle of another extravagant attempt to woo mr. pickles.Â
âsounds like breakfast is overdue,â he said, grinning. âmy treat, as promised.â you hesitated, watching as mr. pickles, the opportunist she was, pranced toward her carrier with the regal air of a queen boarding her royal carriage. she gave you a look that screamed, what are you waiting for? letâs go, servant.
âuh,â you started, scratching the back of your neck. âso, funny story â i didnât bring my wallet, and even if i didâŠâ you trailed off, remembering the bleak state of your cashapp. $27.53 stared back at you the last time you checked. it was a miracle you even had that much. â...i wouldnât be able to afford it.â geto blinked at you, as if youâd grown a second head. âwhat?â
âyeah,â you said, already feeling the mortifying urge to dig a hole and crawl into it. âiâm, uh, broke. like, hilariously broke. economy, yâknow?â you added with a weak laugh. âyou think iâm letting you pay?â geto said, looking genuinely offended. âwhat kind of guy do you think i am?â
âa nice guy?â you offered, unsure where this was going. âno, no,â he said, shaking his head. âa gentleman.â
oh god, the drama. you stifled a laugh. âwell, excuse me, mister gentleman. i just didnât want to assume youâd pay.â
âassume away,â he said, already heading toward the nearest fancy breakfast cafĂ© like he hadnât just kidnapped you and the cats. âiâve got you covered.â you glanced down at mr. pickles, who gave you a look that screamed, hurry up, i want my eggs.
the cafĂ©, of course, was fancy. fancier than anywhere youâd normally set foot in. as you walked in, clutching mr. picklesâ carrier like a lifeline, you whispered to geto, âyou couldnât pick a normal place?â
ânormal?â he asked, arching a brow. âwhat, like mcdonaldâs?â
âthat wouldâve been perfect, â you muttered. he just chuckled. ârelax. itâs on me. besidesâŠâ he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. âi have a reputation to uphold. international law guys donât slum it, you know?â you snorted. âyouâre so full of it.â
âmaybe,â he admitted, grinning. âbut youâre here, arenât you?â you rolled your eyes but couldnât help smiling as you followed him to a table, where gojo cat immediately tried to climb onto the nearest chair, only for geto to gently push him back down. âdonât even think about it,â he told the cat, who meowed indignantly. mr. pickles, meanwhile, sat primly in her carrier, surveying the cafĂ© with a look of mild disdain. she was probably judging the lack of gold-plated bowls. âso,â geto said once you were seated, his tone casual but his eyes warm. âwhat are you having? and donât say something cheap to be polite.â
âhowâd you know i was going to say that?â you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. he shrugged. âjust a hunch. order whatever you want.â
you hesitated, glancing at the menu. everything was overpriced, and you were 80% sure a single pancake here cost more than your rent. âfine,â you said finally. âbut if i order the most expensive thing on the menu, i donât want to hear you complain.â
âdeal,â he said, smiling like youâd just agreed to marry him. god, he really was trying to woo you. and judging by the way your heart was doing somersaults, it mightâve been working.
the cafe was everything you imagined a âfancy breakfast spotâ would beâmuted beige tones, big windows letting in soft sunlight, overpriced art hanging on the walls, and tables filled with people who somehow looked like they owned hedge funds. there were plants too, the kind that didnât seem real, and a faint jazz tune played in the background. if geto was trying to impress you, he was definitely succeeding, albeit unintentionally making you feel a little out of place. but all of that took a backseat the moment you heard that voice.
âyouâre joking,â you muttered under your breath as you caught sight of none other than ryomen sukuna, towering like a goddamn villain straight out of a noir film. the cigarette smell hit first, faint but unmistakable, lingering on his dark uniform. his face twisted into a scowl the second he spotted your table. âugh, pets,â he grumbled, eyeing the carrier with disdain. âthis is why this place is going downhill. who even lets cats in here?â
âgood morning to you too, sukuna,â geto said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with a calmness that only pissed sukuna off further. you, on the other hand, were seconds away from panic. this is chosoâs brother? youâd seen him before, sureâusually smoking in the hallway and glaring like everyone had personally wronged him. but now? here? as your server? gojo cat immediately picked up on your distressâor maybe he just didnât like sukunaâs faceâbecause he started growling in getoâs lap. it was the tiniest, most pitiful growl, but sukunaâs eyes snapped to him, narrowing in challenge. âwhatâs that thingâs problem?â he asked, jerking a thumb at gojo cat. âhis problem is you , â geto said, smiling. âcanât say i blame him.â sukuna shot geto a flat look before turning his attention back to you. âwhat are you having?â he asked, his tone sharp enough to cut steel.
you panicked, your eyes darting to the menu. âuh⊠ummm âŠiâll have the, uhâŠâ you started, struggling to pronounce the ridiculous name of the dish. âthe croissantâŠsomething?â
âyou mean the croissant aux truffes?â sukuna interrupted, rolling his eyes. âyeah, got it. anything else?â you shook your head furiously, feeling your face heat up. âand you?â sukuna turned to geto, clearly already over this interaction. âmy usual,â geto said casually, resting his chin on his hand. sukuna raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a mean smirk. âyour usual , huh? whatâs that again?â
geto froze for half a second, his cool demeanor slipping ever so slightly. âyou know what my usual is,â he said, his voice a little sharper. âdo i?â sukuna asked, feigning innocence. âmustâve slipped my mind.â
âitâs soba,â geto hissed, his calmness now completely abandoned.
âoh, soba,â sukuna said, nodding slowly like heâd just solved the mystery of the century. âgot it. soba. anything else, your highness?â geto glared at him but didnât say anything, and sukuna walked off, muttering something under his breath about âstupid regulars.â the moment he was out of earshot, geto leaned back in his chair and let out a dramatic sigh. âiâm never coming back here.â
âreally?â you asked, raising a brow. âbecause it sounded like you practically live here.â
ânot after this humiliation,â he said, though the way his lips twitched betrayed the fact that he wasnât as annoyed as he pretended to be. you couldnât help but laugh, the earlier tension melting away. âfor what itâs worth,â you said, âyour âusualâ sounds pretty fancy too.â
âdonât,â he groaned, burying his face in his hands. âiâll never live this down.â
from the corner of your eye, you saw gojo cat attempting to claw his way out of geto's lap, probably planning to finish what he started with sukuna. mr. pickles, ever the drama queen, merely yawned, completely unfazed by the chaos. it was going to be a long morning.
sukunaâs approach to serving was efficient, sure, but it was laced with the kind of attitude that made you question why this place hired him in the first place. he practically slammed getoâs soba on the table with a smile so forced it could rival a ventriloquist dummy, and your croissantâalthough perfectâarrived with a snide comment about âpetting zoosâ under his breath. you gave him a tight-lipped smile, muttering a quick âthank you,â while geto tried to hide his snicker behind his hand. sukuna walked off, grumbling something about âpretentious cat dads.â
âdonât mind him,â geto said, breaking his chopsticks with practiced ease. âheâs just like that with everyone. well, maybe worse with me.â
âso youâre special, then?â you teased, tearing off a piece of your croissant. âyou could say that,â geto replied with a grin, feeding gojo cat a tiny bit of soba under the table. gojo, the shameless flirt, lapped it up happily, ignoring mr. picklesâ death glare from her carrier. things were calm, peaceful evenâuntil the gaggle of women arrived.
they were the type youâd expect to see in glossy magazines: perfectly coiffed hair, subtle but expensive-looking makeup, and outfits that screamed âwe brunch in designer clothes.â they made a beeline for gojo cat, cooing and fawning like he was some sort of feline casanova. and, like the attention-seeking traitor he was, gojo lapped it all up, practically preening under their praise. âoh my god, look at him!â one of them squealed, petting gojo as he leaned into her touch. âheâs so cute!â
âwhatâs his name?â another asked, giving geto a smile that could only be described as predatory. âgojo,â geto said, chuckling awkwardly. âyou named him after yourself?â one of the women teased, clearly mistaking him for the egomaniac in question.
âuh, no, actuallyââ
âoh, sugurruuu!â another one interrupted, clearly recognizing him. âitâs been ages! how have you been?â you raised an eyebrow as the women began circling him like sharks. apparently, they were his seniors from a past internship, which made sense because they had that polished, professional air about them. âwe missed you at the office!â one of them gushed. âyou were so good at handling those client presentations,â another added, her tone a little too sweet for your liking.
you took a bite of your croissant, trying to ignore the sudden twist in your stomach. it wasnât like you had any claim over geto, right? and yet, seeing him chuckle nervously and entertain them, even though it was clear he was uncomfortable, made you bristle. beside you, mr. pickles was practically vibrating with irritation, her tail flicking furiously as she watched gojo soak up the attention. she let out a low, guttural growl that you couldâve sworn mirrored your exact mood. âheâs such a ladiesâ man,â one of the women purred, gesturing to gojo. âjust like his owner, huh?â
âactually,â geto said, his voice cutting through the chatter. he looked at you, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. âthis is my partner.â
wait, what?
the table went silent for a moment as all eyes turned to you. the womenâs faces fell ever so slightly, their previously cheery expressions dimming as they processed the information. âpartner?â one of them repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. âyep,â geto said, leaning back in his chair with a small, satisfied smile. âweâre co-parenting these two,â he added, gesturing to the cats. you blinked, your mind racing. co-parenting? he wasnât wrong, technically speaking, but the way he said it made it sound...a lot more serious than it actually was. the women muttered half-hearted congratulations before awkwardly excusing themselves, their heels clicking against the tiled floor as they walked away. once they were out of earshot, you turned to geto, your cheeks burning. âpartner, huh?â
âwhat? itâs true,â he said, a hint of smugness in his tone. âweâre co-parenting.â
âyou do know how that sounded, right?â you asked, narrowing your eyes.âsounded perfect to me,â he said, giving you a lopsided grin. you rolled your eyes, but you couldnât help the small smile tugging at your lips. maybe, just maybe, you liked geto a little more than you thought. meanwhile, gojo cat continued basking in his stolen glory, and mr. pickles finally settled down in her carrier, clearly satisfied with how the situation had turned out.
chapter 4: he brought kibble, you brought your heart
the days following your chaotic breakfast outing became a mix of heartwarming absurdity and mild chaos, all thanks to geto and his ever-determined cat.Â
it started with the pet supplies. one offhand comment about needing more for mr. pickles, and suddenly geto was at your door with an entire armful of toys, treats, and nesting materials. âyou said you needed stuff,â he shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he handed you a bag that looked heavy enough to contain bricks. âthis isâŠa lot,â you said, peering inside. âdid you buy out the entire pet store?â
ânah, just the essentials,â he replied, brushing off your comment. âbesides, i had to get stuff for gojo anyway.â
the âstuff for gojoâ turned out to be a single can of tuna.
then came the vet visits. geto had decided, entirely unprompted, that your vet appointments were now his responsibility. he would show up unannounced, a coffee in hand for you and a carrier for gojo in the other. âi donât think the vet needs to see gojo,â youâd said the first time he came along. âyou never know,â heâd replied, entirely serious. âwhat if he has sympathy symptoms for mr. pickles? heâs been sneezing a lot lately.â
âthatâs because he shoved his face into a pile of dust bunnies,â you deadpanned. still, you couldnât deny how much easier it was having him around, even if it meant enduring his occasional attempts to one-up the vet with random facts heâd googled beforehand. âyou know, some studies say cats feel pain differently during pregnancy,â geto commented as the vet checked mr. pickles over. the vet gave him a flat look. âthatâsâŠnot entirely accurate.â
âhuh, weird,â geto said, leaning back with an entirely too smug grin. âiâll look into it more. itâs good to stay informed, right?â
meanwhile, gojo catâs relentless courtship of mr. pickles had reached new, unhinged heights. every day brought a new âgiftâ for her nesting area, ranging from sweet (a soft sock) to outright concerning (a half-dead lizard that had you shrieking and yuuji wielding a plastic lightsaber like some kind of jedi exterminator). âgojo, no!â youâd yelled, trying to wrestle the lizard out of his mouth. âdonât hurt him!â geto shouted, entirely missing the point as he held gojo back. âdonât hurt him?!â yuuji echoed, brandishing the lightsaber dramatically. âwhat about me? what if it jumps at me?!â
amidst the chaos, mr. pickles remained the picture of serenity, carefully arranging each of gojoâs offerings in her nesting area like some kind of bizarre art installation. she even started tolerating his presence, which was a minor miracle in itself. âlook at them,â geto said one day, gesturing to the two cats as they napped side by side. âtheyâre like us.â you raised an eyebrow. âone of them brings in literal trash and the other barely tolerates them. which oneâs supposed to be me?â
âwell, obviously, youâre mr. pickles,â he said with a grin.
âand youâre gojo?â
âexactly.â
you laughed, shaking your head. âgeto, youâre ridiculous.â
âand yet, here you are,â he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly.
despite the chaos, you couldnât deny that your little makeshift familyâcomplete with a sock-stealing, lizard-catching cat and his annoyingly thoughtful ownerâhad started to grow on you. mr. pickles seemed calmer, you felt more relaxed, and even getoâs awkward attempts at affection were kind of endearing. maybe, just maybe, these two werenât so bad after all.
but honestly, you shouldâve known geto would take a casual dinner and make it look like an event. the moment you opened the door and saw him standing there, you realized just how badly you underestimated the manâs ability to weaponize his looks. heâd ditched the usual button-ups for a fitted black turtleneck that clung to him like a second skin, paired with tailored gray slacks that looked more expensive than your monthly rent. his hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, but a few stray strands framed his face just enough to be annoyingly perfect. and then there was the smellâsome cologne that was equal parts warm and spicy, making your knees wobble like a newborn deer.
âyouâŠuh, look nice,â you managed to stutter, awkwardly gesturing him in. he chuckled, stepping inside. âthanks. figured i should dress up a little since youâre going all out with dinner.â oh, so now itâs your fault for making dinner sound like a five-star experience when it was really just some pasta and garlic bread. meanwhile, your own reflection in the hallway mirror mocked you mercilessly. you were still in your semi-formal college attire: a blazer that was slightly too big, a wrinkled blouse, and pants that had seen better days. you could have changed, but no, you thought youâd save time and effort. bad call.
dinner itself went surprisingly smoothly. mr. pickles and gojo cat managed to coexist at the food station, which was nothing short of miraculous. out of the corner of your eye, you saw gojo nudging a small portion of his food toward mr. pickles, who sniffed it delicately before accepting. âlook at them,â geto said with a soft smile, catching your gaze. âsharing like that. think itâs love?â you scoffed, trying to ignore how his smile made your heart race. âor maybe gojoâs just trying to butter her up so she doesnât swat him later.â
âharsh,â geto replied, leaning back in his chair. âyouâre cynical. i like it.â
after dinner, you were about to tackle the dishes when geto, ever the overachieving law student, pulled out his macbook. the glow of the screen illuminated his face as he typed furiously, answering emails and looking like the poster boy for "i have my life together."
âwork?â you asked, carrying a stack of plates to the sink. âjust a few emails,â he said, not looking up. âone of the partners at my internship sent over some last-minute questions.â you blinked, watching him with mild disbelief. âitâs a friday night.â
âwelcome to international law,â he said dryly, fingers flying across the keyboard. against your better judgment, you found yourself⊠impressed? his focus, his confidence, the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show off his forearmsâit was annoyingly attractive. âugh, law students,â you muttered under your breath, scrubbing at a plate. âwhat was that?â suguru asked, looking up with a smirk. ânothing,â you said quickly, turning back to the sink. âjust saying how dedicated you are.â he laughed, the sound low and warm. âyouâre bad at lying, you know.â
âand youâre bad at taking a break,â you shot back, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.
after a few more minutes of typing, geto finally closed his laptop and joined you in the kitchen. âhere, let me help,â he offered, rolling up his sleeves further. âyou cooked,â he said, taking a plate from your hands. âleast i can do is clean up.â you wanted to argue, but the sight of geto, sleeves rolled up, standing beside you at the sink, made your brain short-circuit. âfine,â you mumbled, handing him a dish. âbut if you drop one, iâm not forgiving you.â
ânoted,â he said with a grin, elbow brushing yours as he worked. as you both washed dishes in companionable silence, you couldnât help but glance at him every now and then, heart doing a stupid little flutter each time he caught you looking. maybe this dinner wasnât such a bad idea after all.
geto had never been one to overthink simple things. he prided himself on his ability to stay cool and collected, whether it was during an exam, an internship interview, or wrangling gojo cat after heâd somehow escaped onto a neighborâs balcony. but here, standing next to you, washing dishes, his heart was doing its best impression of a jazz drummerâcompletely out of rhythm and far too loud. he tried to focus on the task at hand, scrubbing a plate with the precision of a surgeon, but his brain was too busy short-circuiting over the sheer domesticity of the moment. you, standing next to him, a faint smile on your lips as you passed him a dish. mr. pickles and gojo cat sitting like a mismatched elderly couple in the corner, their rivalry seemingly paused for the evening. this was too much. domesticity was his weakness, and you were unknowingly his kryptonite.
"you know," he started, trying to sound casual, "iâve been working on my forearms lately. gotta make sure gojo has a sturdy perch when i carry him." your laugh was soft but genuine, and it hit him right in the chest. "oh yeah? is that why youâve been flexing every chance you get? because i was starting to think you were just trying to flirt." he froze, plate in hand, before turning to look at you with a mock-offended expression. "flirt? me? thatâs slander. iâm just a humble man with well-defined forearms doing his civic duty.â
"right," you drawled, rolling your eyes as you handed him another dish. okay, suguru, he thought. focus. this is the perfect moment. ask the question. itâs not that big of a deal. except it was a big deal. because it wasnât just about asking if youâd like to carpool to college every day. it was about getting more time with you, sharing little moments like this. he cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "hey, uhâŠyou know how i drive to college every day?" you glanced at him, a little confused. "yeah?"
"and you, uh, also go to college every day?"
"correct," you said slowly, raising an eyebrow.
he could feel his palms starting to sweat despite the soapy water. this was ridiculous. why was he nervous? it was just a question! but somehow, the thought of you saying no made his stomach twist. "so," he continued, trying to keep his tone light, "i was thinkingâŠmaybe we could drive together? you know, save on gas, reduce our carbon footprint, that kind of thing." you blinked at him, clearly caught off guard. "you want to carpool with me?"
"yeah," he said quickly, nodding. "i mean, it makes sense, right? weâre both going the same way, and i wouldnât mind the company. plus, iâve got this playlist iâve been dying to share." that wasnât entirely true. his playlist was a chaotic mix of instrumental lo-fi, 90âs rock and songs gojo cat seemed to enjoy, but heâd happily curate something just for you if it meant hearing you laugh and sing along.Â
"youâre serious?" you asked, and he swore he could see a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "dead serious," he said, putting on his best poker face. "itâs a purely logistical decision, of course. nothing to do with the fact that i think youâre great company or anything." you stared at him for a moment before breaking into a laugh, and he felt his shoulders relax just a little. "okay," you said finally. "sure, letâs carpool." he grinned, feeling an almost embarrassing amount of relief. "awesome. you wonât regret it, i promise." as you turned back to the sink, he couldnât help but steal a glance at you, his heart still doing its offbeat jazz solo. yeah, this was going to be good. better than good, even.
the last dish was set on the drying rack, and with it came the awkward silence that always followed. you and geto exchanged a glance, both of you clearly trying to decide what came next. do you send him off with a polite "thanks for the help," or do you suggest something casual? ugh, why was this so hard?
"soooo," you started, awkwardly fidgeting with a dishtowel. "uh, do youâŠwant ice cream?" geto blinked at you, his expression pleasantly surprised. "ice cream?"
"yeah, you know, frozen dairy, sugar, flavors," you said, waving your hands vaguely like you were describing some rare delicacy. "do international law students even like convenience store ice cream? or are you more into, like, artisanal stuff churned by monks in the alps?" his laugh was low and warm, the kind of laugh that made you feel like youâd just won something. "as tempting as alps-monks-churned ice cream sounds, iâm fine with rocky road if youâve got it."
rocky road. heâs perfect, you thought as you rummaged in the freezer, pulling out a pint. mr. pickles, ever the queen, trotted over and sat primly by your feet, tail twitching as if she expected you to serve her a scoop. gojo cat, on the other hand, had found a stray spoon to bat around the kitchen floor like it was his lifeâs mission. you handed geto a bowl, and he graciously accepted before pulling out his macbook and setting it on the table. "mind if i put something on?"
"as long as itâs not UN debates or a soba recipe tutorial," you teased, leaning over to peer at his screen. to your credit, you werenât snoopingâyou were just curious about what kind of stuff an international law student kept on their homepage. but the minute you saw it, you froze. nestled among his neatly arranged bookmarks for email, law journals, and a soba takeout joint, was your spotify profile. your brain went into immediate overdrive. oh dear god. oh no. oh yes. wait, what?
you fought the urge to gasp, to point, to scream into the void. instead, you settled for the most nonchalant reaction you could muster. "huh. your bookmarks are soâŠorganized." but your awkward tone gave you away, and geto, sharp as ever, followed your gaze. when his eyes landed on the offending bookmark, he paused mid-scoop, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "oh," he said, clearly trying to play it cool. "uh, yeah. thatâsâuh, for convenience. you know, for when you share playlists and stuff."
"totally," you replied, nodding far too enthusiastically. "makes sense. who doesnât bookmark their friendsâ spotify profiles?" you were lying through your teeth, and you both knew it. but instead of feeling weirded out, your heart felt like it might actually burst. he bookmarked your spotify. this ridiculously attractive, smart, and funny guy has done something so nerdy and cute, and you think you might die. the silence stretched awkwardly until you couldnât take it anymore. "soâŠwhatâs your favorite playlist of mine?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual but failing miserably.
geto, to his credit, recovered quickly. "probably the one you called âin the clerb, we all cryinâ.â itâs got a lot of questionable choices."
"questionable choices?" you gasped, feigning offense. "excuse me, those are carefully curated emotional masterpieces!"
"right, right," he said, nodding solemnly but with a teasing glint in his eyes. "masterpieces like, what was it? âtornâ by natalie imbruglia followed by party rock anthem?"
"thatâs called range, geto."
he laughed again, and you swore it was the best sound youâd ever heard. meanwhile, gojo cat had successfully cornered the spoon under the fridge, and mr. pickles let out an indignant meow, clearly unimpressed by the lack of attention directed her way. "anyways," you said, clearing your throat and desperately trying to steer the conversation away from how much your soul had ascended, "what are we watching?" he smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "how about a soba recipe tutorial? you know, for research purposes."
"get out of my house," you deadpanned, throwing a napkin at him. but deep down, you couldnât stop smiling. maybe you did like geto. just a little. or a lot. whoâs counting?
-
the youtube video played on, gordon ramsey passionately dissecting the finer points of why "tiramisu supremacy" should be the law of the land, but you werenât paying attention anymore. instead, you were hyper-aware of the ridiculously attractive man next to you, lounging on your bed, casually eating rocky road like he wasnât a complete menace to your sanity. gojo cat had stationed himself at your feet, swiping lazily at a loose thread on your blanket. mr. pickles, in a rare display of domestic harmony, perched regally on a pillow next to geto like she was claiming him as her territory. you could almost hear her smug little cat thoughts: this one? yes, acceptable.
meanwhile, you? you were losing it. somehowâthrough some strange twist of fate or cosmic jokeâyour head had ended up resting on getoâs chest. his chest. his sculpted, unfairly perfect chest. you told yourself it was for comfort, or convenience, or whatever excuse your brain could scramble together. oh god, is this okay? what if he thinks iâm weird? or worse, what if he doesnât care at all?
his arm was just kind of⊠hovering there, like it didnât know what to do. his bicep flexed every time he adjusted, and you swore it was on purpose. itâs not on purpose, idiot. calm down. "you good there?" his voice cut through your internal spiral, warm and teasing. you cleared your throat, suddenly self-conscious. "uh, yeah. totally fine. just... comfortable, i guess."
"comfortable, huh?" he echoed, his tone light but his heart doing cartwheels. sheâs comfortable. okay. donât freak out. play it cool. meanwhile, geto was absolutely not playing it cool. this is fine. this is normal. people hang out like this all the time. friends. buddies. totally platonic. on a bed. watching gordon ramsey. with her head on my chest. oh god, iâm dying. his arm was still hovering awkwardly, and it was starting to cramp. should he justâ? no. too much. but maybe? before he could overthink it further, you shifted slightly, glancing up at him.
"you can, you know," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. he blinked down at you, dumbfounded. "can what?"
"put your arm around me," you mumbled, cheeks heating up like a furnace. getoâs brain short-circuited. oh god, she said i can. she actually said i can. is this real? am i dreaming? whereâs gojo? he needs to see this. wait, no, absolutely not. this is private. oh god, my arm.
"uh, yeah. sure," he finally said, his voice cracking just a little as he tried to sound casual. his arm settled around your shoulders, warm and solid, and you let out a content sigh. meanwhile, internally, he was screaming. this is the best day of his life.
"youâre stiff as hell," you teased, glancing up at him. "sorry, itâs justâiâm not used toâ" he fumbled, trailing off. "chill out," you said with a soft laugh, your hand lightly resting on his chest. "itâs just me."
just you. the girl heâd been pining after for weeks. the girl whose spotify profile heâd bookmarked. the girl whose cats heâd willingly co-parented like an idiot in love. he wasnât even sure how he was still breathing. "yeah," he said softly, his lips quirking into a small smile. "just you."
"hey, are you even watching?" you asked, gesturing at the screen where ramsey was now passionately defending the honor of cannoli. "uh, yeah. totally," he lied, having absolutely no idea what was happening in the video. "oh yeah? then whatâs his stance on panna cotta?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. geto paused for a second, then grinned sheepishly. "panna whatta?" you groaned, laughing despite yourself. "youâre hopeless."
"hopelessly charmed," he muttered under his breath, but thankfully, the loud volume drowned it out. gojo cat let out an exaggerated yawn, curling up at the foot of the bed, while mr. pickles blinked at both of you with what could only be described as approval. and for a brief moment, with you curled up against him, geto thought that maybe, just maybe, domesticity wasnât so bad after all.
the clock on your bedside table glowed 9:30 pm, the red numbers a cruel reminder that sunday was slipping away. geto shifted slightly, the arm around your shoulders reluctantly moving as if to signal his departure. right. college tomorrow. responsibilities. but neither of you moved. instead, his attempt to lift his arm ended in a poorly executed maneuver that pulled you closerâmuch closer. suddenly, your face was inches from his, and you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. his breath hitched. oh god. oh no. oh yes. what if he does something stupid? like kiss you? no, bad idea. abort. retreat. pull away. youâll think heâs weirdâ
you kissed him first. his brain went blank.
your lips pressed softly against his, a tentative, curious movement that sent every coherent thought in his mind scattering like autumn leaves in the wind. your lip balmâsomething fruity, maybe peach?âlingered on his lips, blending with the faint taste of rocky road ice cream. his heart stopped, then kickstarted with a force that left him lightheaded. "oh," he murmured against your lips, his voice barely audible. "oh?" you pulled back slightly, a teasing smile quirking your lips. "i â i mean â" he stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. "uh, wow."
"wow?" you laughed softly, your hands sliding up his chest, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt. "shut up," he groaned, but his grin betrayed him as his hands instinctively found your waist, steadying you as you moved to straddle his lap. oh god. oh god. sheâs on my lap. this is not a drill. repeat, this is not a drill. "youâre awfully red, suguru," you teased, your tone light, but the way your fingers brushed against his jaw made his pulse race. "yeah, well, youâreâ" he cut himself off, his eyes flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze. "youâre unfairly pretty, okay? and iâm trying not to pass out here."
"pretty?" you echoed, feigning innocence as you leaned in closer, your noses brushing. "is that all?" he chuckled, low and breathy. "pretty, gorgeous, unfairly cute. take your pick." before he could spiral into another wave of self-doubt, you kissed him again, and this time, he responded in full. his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second. his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his fingers flexing like he couldnât quite believe you were real. in the background, gordon ramseyâs voice bellowed something about undercooked risotto, but neither of you noticed. this is what dreams are made of, right? he thought. her lips, her taste, the way sheâs holding onto me like iâm her favorite person in the world. rocky road and lip balm and⊠gordon ramsey? okay, ignore that. focus. focus on her.
"you good there, suguru?" you murmured against his lips, your voice laced with amusement. "good?" he echoed, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. "iâm amazing. incredible. best night of my life, no contest."
"youâre such a dork," you laughed, your forehead resting against his. "yeah, well," he said, his smile softening as his thumb brushed along your cheek. "you like this dork."
"i do," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. his heart soared. he tightened his hold on you, his lips ghosting over yours once more as he whispered, "good. because i donât think iâm letting you go anytime soon." the clock ticked on, but neither of you cared anymore. responsibilities could wait.
-
just as getoâs lips brushed against yours for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, a loud, synchronized cacophony of meows erupted from the corner of the bed. you both froze.
there sat gojo cat and mr. pickles, staring at the two of you with matching expressions of feline judgment. mr. pickles, her fur slightly puffed and her eyes narrowed, let out an indignant mrrrow that sounded suspiciously like "get a room." gojo cat, ever the instigator, joined in with an exaggerated meeeooowwww, his tail flicking dramatically as if to say, "seriously? right in front of us?"
âoh my god,â you mumbled, burying your face in getoâs neck as he chuckled, the sound rumbling against you. âi think weâve offended the fur babies,â he said, clearly trying not to laugh too loudly as gojo cat began pacing in circles, yowling like a siren. âoffended? they sound like theyâre trying to declare war,â you muttered, pulling back reluctantly. âmaybe theyâre just jealous,â geto teased, his dark eyes twinkling as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. âjealous of what?â you scoffed, glancing at the cats. mr. pickles was still bristling like a wronged queen, while gojo cat was now attempting to paw at the edge of the bed for dramatic emphasis.
âof this.â geto smirked, leaning in like he was about to steal another kiss, but mr. pickles let out a sharp hiss, cutting him off. âokay, okay, time out!â you said, waving your hands in surrender. with a sigh, geto released you, though his hand lingered on your waist for a moment longer. âguess thatâs our cue.â you followed him to the door, the cats trailing behind like disapproving chaperones. gojo cat let out one last, drawn-out meow as if to say "good riddance," while mr. pickles sat primly by the door, glaring up at geto with all the disdain she could muster. âsheâs really protective of you, huh?â geto said, slipping his shoes on. âalways has been,â you replied, your hand resting on the doorknob. âprobably doesnât help that you keep bribing her with treats.â
âbribing?â he repeated, feigning offense. âthatâs called building trust.â
âsure it is, mr. international law,â you teased, leaning against the doorframe.
he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. âspeaking of trust, uh⊠iâll pick you up tomorrow? for class?â you raised an eyebrow, smirking. âtrying to make this a habit now?â
âwell,â he said, his cheeks pinking slightly, âi figured iâd bring you another one of those fancy croissants. and, you know, maybe see you smile first thing in the morning again.â your chest tightened at his words, warmth spreading through you. âsmooth, geto.â
âis that a yes?â he asked, his voice softer now, his gaze locked on yours. âyeah,â you said, your lips curving into a smile. before he could step out, he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a quick but lingering kiss that made your heart race. when he pulled back, his smile was uncharacteristically shy.
âgoodnight,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
âgoodnight,â you replied, watching as he walked away, his hands stuffed into his pockets but his stride noticeably lighter.
as you closed the door, you turned to find mr. pickles sitting side by side, staring up at you with unreadable expressions. âdonât look at me like that,â you said, pointing at her. âyouâre the ones who ruined the moment.â mr. pickles let out a chirpy meep , as if to say "iâm just doing my job," before padding back to her nesting area with an air of smug satisfaction. you shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. whatever this thing with suguru was, you didnât want it to end. not now, not ever.
chapter 5: justin bieber and other forms of groveling
you swung the door open, expecting to find a text from geto telling you to come downstairs like a normal person. instead, you were met with him. suguru geto, standing at your doorstep, looking like heâd just stepped out of a gq photoshoot. âmorning!â he greeted cheerfully, his voice as smooth as his suit. yes, a suit. a dark, perfectly tailored one that hugged his broad shoulders and slim waist just right, paired with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top, exposing just a hint of his collarbone. the whole look was topped off with a skinny black tie and shiny leather oxfords that somehow made you question if you were even allowed to walk next to him. and donât even get started on his hairâpulled back into a low bun, with a few loose strands framing his stupidly perfect face. âwhyâwhy are you here?â you stammered, gripping the doorframe for support because, honestly, this man might be a health hazard. âthought iâd save you the trip downstairs,â he said casually, though his lips curled into a smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing. âbesides, i wanted to see you earlier.â great. now your heart was doing this weird fluttery thing, and you hated it. âyou know you couldâve just texted me, right? like a normal person?â
âwhereâs the fun in that?â he quipped, his voice tinged with amusement.
ugh.Â
the first thing that hit you when you slid into his carâa sleek black bmw z4 convertible with the top downâwas the overwhelming scent of car cleaner mixed with him. âdid youâdid you just get this cleaned?â you asked, wrinkling your nose at the smell. âmaybe,â he replied, a little too quickly. you glanced at the dashboard, which was spotless and gleaming. the leather seats looked freshly polished, and there wasnât a single crumb or speck of dust in sight. well, except for the faint trace of orange fur on the passenger seat. âyou missed a spot,â you teased, pointing at the fur. âgojo,â he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. âaw, donât be mad at him,â you said, grinning. âheâs just marking his territory.â
âyeah, well, heâs not paying for this car, is he?â suguru shot back, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. the car smelled like money, honestly. the leather had that rich, almost intimidating scent, and the steering wheel looked like it had been handcrafted by someone with a phd in luxury interiors. but somehow, there was this comforting undertone of suguruâs cologneâspicy, woodsy, and ridiculously distracting. you tried to act normal, like you werenât suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were to him in this car that felt way too intimate for a ride to campus. âso, whatâs the occasion?â you asked, nodding toward his suit as he pulled out onto the main road. âinternship meeting after class,â he explained, keeping his eyes on the road. âwanted to make a good impression.â
âyeah, well, mission accomplished,â you mumbled, more to yourself than him, but he still heard. âwhat was that?â he asked, glancing at you with a playful smirk. ânothing,â you said quickly, your cheeks heating. as he drove, you found yourself sneaking glances at his hands on the wheel. his sleeves were rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, which looked unfairly muscular for a guy who claimed to âbarely have time for the gym.â the veins running up his arms were just⊠there, taunting you.
âyouâve been working out, huh?â you blurted, unable to stop yourself. he chuckled, a low, warm sound that made your stomach flip. ânoticed, huh?â
âkind of hard not to when your biceps are trying to break out of that shirt,â you retorted, trying to sound nonchalant. âoh, this?â he said, flexing his forearm slightly as he adjusted the gearshift, clearly showing off. âugh, stop,â you groaned, covering your face with your hands. âyouâre so annoying.â
âand yet here you are,â he teased, shooting you a quick grin before turning his attention back to the road. as you sat there, half-annoyed and half-smitten, you couldnât help but think that this man was going to be the death of you.
-
the two of you sat in the car outside your campus building for a moment longer than necessary. the engine was off, but the atmosphere buzzed with something heavy, something neither of you dared to name yet. geto had one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift, but you werenât fooled. his jaw was tense, and his thumb tapped nervously against the leather, a small tell that youâd come to recognize. he didnât want this ride to end. neither did you, if you were being honest. âso,â you started, your voice almost shy. âthanks for the ride.â he glanced over at you, his dark eyes soft but smoldering all at once. âyeah,â he said, his voice low, âanytime.â and just when you thought heâd let you leave, he moved.
his handâlarge, warm, and calloused just enough to send a thrill through youâslipped behind your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent goosebumps racing down your arms. the touch was firm but gentle, commanding but tender.
âcome here,â he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
you didnât even have time to process before he pulled you in, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. this wasnât just a goodbye kiss; no, this was something deeper, something that spoke of longing and frustration and a thousand unsaid things. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, like he didnât care that the windows werenât tinted enough for the scene unfolding inside. his tongue swept against your lower lip, asking, no, demanding entrance, and you couldnât deny him. the taste of himâcoffee from earlier, a hint of mint, and something uniquely suguruâwas enough to make your head spin. your hand instinctively came up to his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself. but instead of pulling away, he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to get a better angle, and you thought you might actually lose all sense of reality.
when he finally pulled back, it wasnât abrupt. no, he lingered, his lips brushing against yours one last time, as if reluctant to let go. his breathing was heavy, his cheeks slightly flushed, and when you looked up at him, you saw the faint sheen of your lip gloss smeared on his mouth. his lipsâpink, swollen, and thoroughly kissedâwere enough to make your brain short-circuit.
âyouâve gotââ you gestured vaguely to his mouth, your voice shaky. he raised an eyebrow, smirking in that infuriatingly confident way. âlip gloss?â he guessed, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip like he was testing the feel of it. âyeah,â you mumbled, feeling your own cheeks heat up. âgood,â he said simply, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. âiâll keep it.â you wanted to scream, cry, and maybe kiss him again all at once. instead, you just sat there, dazed, as he leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
âguess i should let you go now,â he said, though his tone made it clear he wasnât entirely thrilled about the idea. âyeah,â you managed to say, though your legs felt like jelly just thinking about walking into that building. as you stepped out of the car, the smell of car cleaner and his cologne still lingering around you, you could feel the weight of peopleâs stares. it wasnât like fancy cars were a rare sight, but you stepping out of that car, looking thoroughly flustered and kissed? yeah, that was something. you glanced back at him one last time before closing the door. he gave you a small wave, the smirk still firmly in place. âiâll pick you up later,â he called out, and you swore you heard the faintest hint of smugness in his voice. âyeah, okay,â you replied, trying to sound normal even though your entire body felt like it was on fire. as you walked toward the building, your mind raced with one singular thought: suguru geto was going to be the end of you. and honestly? you were okay with that.
-
as geto shifted gears and eased into a parking spot, he let out a long breath he didnât realize heâd been holding. "oh, suguru, what a smooth operator you are," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his already-perfect hair. but as his fingers grazed his lips, he froze. oh no.
your lip glossâthat faint pink menaceâwas still there. he squinted into the rearview mirror, tilting his face left and right like he was analyzing evidence at a crime scene. yup, definitely there. and definitely noticeable.
âcool. love that for me,â he said under his breath, grabbing a tissue from the glove compartment. he dabbed at his lips gently, trying to erase the sheen. but no matter how much he rubbed, it refused to disappear completely. a faint tint lingered, stubborn and utterly humiliating. not that he minded, of course. secretly, he was fighting the urge to giggle like a high schooler who just got his crushâs number. she kissed me, he thought, his inner monologue doing cartwheels. and now her lip gloss is on me. does this count as shared property? do i need to buy her a ring now? he glanced at the building where youâd disappeared moments ago. a soft smile tugged at his lips, but then he caught his own reflection again, and the smile turned into a scowl.
âfocus, suguru. youâre an international law student, not a lovesick teen,â he muttered, trying to psych himself up. but then, completely unbidden, the lyrics hit him: shawtyâs like a melody in my head that i canât keep outâ
âoh my god, no,â he groaned, dropping his forehead against the steering wheel. âpull it together.â he sat up straight, fixing his tie like he was about to walk into court, not class. still, his thoughts wandered back to the kiss. he could still feel the warmth of your lips on his, the way you tasted faintly of coffee and lip gloss. âyeah, okay, maybe iâm a little lovesick,â he admitted to no one, sighing dramatically. a loud honk snapped him out of his reverie, and he jerked upright, eyes darting around. some guy in a beat-up sedan gave him a look as if to say, get moving, pretty boy.
âright, right, focus,â geto muttered, putting the car into park. but the distraction had already done its damage. in his daydream, heâd nearly considered driving through the building instead of parking near it. and not for the first time. last semester, thereâd been that unfortunate incident where heâd been too engrossed in memorizing legal jargon to realize he was barreling toward the curb. it wasnât his finest moment, but hey, everyone made mistakes. this time, though, it wasnât legal jargon messing with his head. it was you.
after ensuring his car was perfectly parked (and double-checking for rogue curbs), he checked his reflection one last time. hair? immaculate. tie? sharp. lips? âŠstill faintly pink. he sighed, leaning back in his seat. "well, if anyone asks, itâs my new look," he muttered, smirking to himself. but deep down, he wasnât bothered. in fact, the idea of walking into his building, pink lip gloss and all, knowing it was from you? yeah, he could live with that.
-
you glance at your phone for what feels like the millionth time, the lock screen mocking you with its time: 6:45 p.m. every minute that ticks by feels like an eternity. where the hell was geto? the man who swore on rocky road ice cream and cats that heâd pick you up after class. âugh, liar,â you grumble under your breath, clutching your phone tighter. you dial his number again, half-hoping, half-dreading, that heâd pick up. the line rings once, twice, and then straight to voicemail. âfigures.â
the campus courtyard is thinning out now, with most students heading home or to their dorms. you, however, are still standing at the edge of the parking lot, looking like the poster child for loser-core chic. a group of girls you vaguely recognize from your department walk by, their giggles low and conspiratorial as they glance in your direction. one of them nudges her friend and whispers loudly, âsee? i told you. you canât trust law guys. theyâre always playing games.â you stiffen, feeling your cheeks heat. okay, rude. but alsoâŠthey might have a point?
âpoor girl,â another one says, her voice dripping with pity. âshe probably thought she was special.â your jaw tightens as you resist the urge to shout back, no, actually, heâs probably just late! maybe traffic, or⊠or⊠you groan inwardly. even you donât buy your excuses anymore. just as youâre debating whether to crawl under a bush and live there forever, your deskmate, nanami kento, approaches. ever the epitome of politeness, he clears his throat softly before speaking. âhey,â he begins, adjusting the strap of his leather satchel. âare you, uh, waiting for someone?â
you force a smile, trying to appear less like a rejected rom-com protagonist. âyeah, uh⊠my rideâs just running a little late.â nanamiâs brow furrows slightly, and he glances at his watch. âitâs been over thirty minutes.â
ouch. okay, way to rub salt in the wound, kento.
he sighs, looking almostâŠsympathetic? âi could drop you off if youâd like. itâs on my way.â
normally, any sane, self-respecting woman would jump at the chance to be chauffeured home by nanami kentoâa man so punctual and reliable, heâs basically a walking swiss watch. but alas, you are neither self-respecting nor particularly sane at this moment. âthanks, nanami, but iâm good,â you say, waving him off with a grin thatâs probably more pained than reassuring. he nods slowly, clearly unconvinced but too polite to argue. âalright. take care, then.â as he walks away, you let out a long sigh, your earlier bravado crumbling. âugh, geto, youâre so dead,â you mutter under your breath, kicking a stray pebble across the pavement. by now, the campus is nearly deserted, and the idea of taking the bus home looms over you like a dark cloud. with a resigned sigh, you check the bus schedule on your phone. the next one isnât due for another 15 minutes. just perfect.
the bus ride home is as glamorous as youâd expectâfluorescent lights that make everyone look vaguely ill, the faint smell of stale chips and rubber, and the occasional bump that sends you jerking forward. you plop into an empty seat, your bag clutched tightly on your lap. a group of teenagers in the back snicker about something, and the guy across from you is humming off-key to whateverâs blasting through his headphones. yeah, this is way better than being driven home in a bmw z4, you think bitterly, rolling your eyes.
the faint scent of orange fur clings to your bag, and you wonder if itâs from gojo cat sneaking into getoâs car this morning. the thought makes you irrationally mad all over again. i bet the car is fine. he probably just forgot or something stupid like that. you lean your head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. the rhythmic hum of the bus is oddly calming, but your thoughts are anything but. what if heâs hurt? a small, worried voice pipes up in the back of your mind. but you squash it quickly. no, heâs just being an idiot.
-
geto is convinced this is how he diesânot by some massive legal scandal or a tragic car accident, but by sheer embarrassment. the moment the clock hit 6:00 p.m., he knew he was doomed. when the hands of time ticked past 6:45, panic set in. itâs fine, he had told himself, gripping his steering wheel with white-knuckled determination. she probably hasnât even noticed yet. but she had noticed. oh god, had she noticed. every missed call and unread text was like a dagger to his heart. he could practically feel your disappointment vibrating through his phone. the sheer audacity of his internship, requiring him to sit through endless discussions about treaties and bylaws while you were out thereâwaiting for him like some rom-com protagonist.
and what does he find when he finally arrives at campus? absolutely nothing. a deserted lot, the soft hum of crickets, and not a single trace of you. he rubs a hand over his face, groaning as he slams his car door shut. great, suguru. really great. not only do you make law students look unreliable, but youâve also officially cemented yourself as a clown in front of the only person who matters.
so, he does the only thing a desperate man can do: breaks every traffic law ever invented, zipping through yellow lights and cutting corners like itâs his goddamn personal mission to get to the apartment before you disappear entirely. âplease donât hate me,â he mutters under his breath as his bmw roars down the street. âiâll get on my knees if i have to. maybe not in public, but likeâŠif it comes to that.â
meanwhile, youâre trudging through the dimly lit hallway of your apartment complex, the bus ride home having sucked every last ounce of life out of you. your feet ache, your bag feels heavier than ever, and your faith in men has plummeted to new depths. he didnât even call back. the audacity, you think bitterly, fumbling for your keys. wasnât i just defending international law men this morning? god, iâm so stupid.
youâre too busy cursing geto to notice the looming figure leaning casually against the wall by the elevatorâsukuna. he smells like croissants and cigarettes, an objectively weird combination that somehow works when itâs him. his uniformâa black button-down rolled up to the elbows and an apron slung lazily over one shoulderâis dusted with flour. âyo,â he greets, his voice low and gravelly as always. you freeze mid-step, praying you donât look like a drowned rat after that miserable commute. âuh, hey.â
âlate night?â he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he takes in your obvious exhaustion. âsomething like that,â you mumble, trying not to sound as annoyed as you feel. sukunaâs sharp eyes flick to your bag. âbus, huh? thought you were too fancy for public transport these days. what happened to prince charming?â oh great. just what i needed, you think, rolling your eyes internally. âprince charming is currently on my list,â you snap, more to yourself than him. âyikes.â sukuna lets out a low chuckle, his smirk infuriatingly smug. âguess mr. perfect isnât as perfect as you thought.â
âokay, first of all,â you shoot back, âiâm not having this conversation with you. second, why do you even care?â he shrugs, clearly unbothered. âi donât. just funny to see you slumming it with the rest of us peasants.â before you can muster a witty retort, the sound of rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway. you both turn just in time to see geto rushing in, his tie slightly askew and his expression one of pure panic.
âthere you are,â he blurts, skidding to a stop in front of you. his eyes dart between you and sukuna, his brows furrowing slightly. âoh, now you show up,â you say, crossing your arms. âdid you have fun ghosting me for two hours?â
âwait, i can explainââ
âcanât wait to hear this,â sukuna mutters under his breath, earning a glare from you.
geto runs a hand through his hair, his words spilling out in a rush. âi got stuck at my internship, and they donât let us use our phonesâ stupid rule, i knowâbut i swear i tried to get to you as fast as i could. i even broke, like, five traffic laws. maybe six.â you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. âand thatâs supposed to make me feel better?â
âno! i mean, yes! i meanâŠâ he groans, clearly flustered. âlook, iâm sorry. really. iâll do anything to make it up to you. please donât be mad.â sukuna snickers, leaning back against the wall. âwow. anything, huh? bold move, law boy.â
âcan you not?â you snap at sukuna before turning back to geto. âfine. you can start by explaining why my calls didnât matter enough for you to pick up.â
âthey did matter!â geto insists, his voice rising slightly. âi swear, if i couldâve answered, i wouldâve.â sukuna snorts, muttering, âsounds like excuses to me.â
âdude, seriously?â geto snaps, finally losing his patience. âguys, enough!â you cut in, throwing your hands up. âiâm too tired for this. suguru, if youâre really sorry, you can start by leaving me alone for the rest of the night.â
getoâs face falls, but he nods reluctantly. âokay. yeah. iâll go.â as he turns to leave, sukuna shoots you a smug grin. âguess prince charming isnât so charming after all.â you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.Â
-
youâre sprawled out on your couch in the most dramatic fashion imaginable, mr. pickles perched on your chest like some kind of feline overlord. her tail swishes back and forth, slapping your face occasionally as if sheâs judging you for your life choices. canât even secure a law student, her gaze seems to say. and honestly? fair. lanas haunting voice croons âthe other womanâ from your speaker, because of course your brain thought this was the perfect soundtrack to your misery. who is the other woman, his degree? you wonder, staring blankly at the ceiling while mr. pickles kneads your collarbone with zero regard for your comfort. maybe itâs the un charter. maybe sheâs prettier than me. you groan, picking up your phone to scroll aimlessly, only to see it light up with a string of notifications. itâs geto.
geto: hey. geto: iâm so sorry, seriously. geto: please donât hate me. geto: gojo cat is crying.
and there it is, a picture of gojo cat edited with comically large tears streaming down his face. you snort despite yourself.
geto: i can explain. geto: the internship is evil. geto: satan himself probably drafted those treaties. geto: and i had to read them all. geto: sorry :((((
you roll your eyes but feel your lips twitch. the messages keep coming.
geto: look, i even made a playlist called âmy apologiesâ to make it up to you. geto: song 1: sorry by justin bieber. geto: song 2: call me maybe by carly rae jespen. geto: song 3: iâm a fool by cee lo green.
youâre this close to laughing when another message pops up.
geto: please forgive me, iâll do anything. geto: iâll even let mr. pickles sit in the bmw.
now youâre grinning. typing back, you send:
you: doorâs unlocked.
the next sound you hear is heavy footsteps thundering down the hallway above. you blink. âheâs running,â you mutter, barely containing your laughter. within seconds, thereâs a knock at your door, and when you yell for him to come in, the door swings open to reveal a completely disheveled geto. his hairâs a mess, his suit jacket is halfway off his shoulder, and heâs panting like he just ran a marathon. âyouâre serious about leaving your door unlocked?â he breathes out, a hand on the doorframe for balance. âwhy are you out of breath?â you ask, trying not to laugh. âyou live one floor up.â
âsprinted,â he replies, straightening up. âpriorities.â
mr. pickles hops off your chest with a disgruntled meow, sauntering over to sniff him. she gives a little approving chirp before settling down by his feet. âeven mr. pickles forgave me,â he says, grinning like an idiot. âso, am i forgiven?â you lean back into the couch, trying to look unimpressed. âyou sent me a justin bieber song.â
âa classic apology move,â he counters, stepping closer. âand gojo cat cried. thatâs how sorry i am.â you roll your eyes but hold out your hand. âfine. youâre forgiven.â he takes your hand, pulling you up from the couch into his arms without hesitation. âgood. because iâm never missing another ride again. next time, iâm picking you up in advance, like a whole hour early.â you snort. âyouâd probably park outside my window and text me to hurry up.â
âabsolutely,â he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âiâll even bring coffee. and croissants.â mr. pickles lets out a loud, approving chirp. ah, love.
-
it did feel a little ridiculous, the way you were sprawled on top of geto on your couch, both of you tangled together in a heap of limbs. but neither of you seemed to care. he had one arm slung around your waist, keeping you steady, while his free hand lazily traced circles on your thigh. you were lying chest to chest, close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. "you know," he said, voice slightly muffled as he buried his face in your hair, "if i ever screw up like that again, iâm giving mr. pickles full authority to end me. claws out, no mercy." you lifted your head to meet his gaze, one eyebrow raised. "oh, sheâd do it too. and with that belly of hers, sheâs got some extra power now."
as if on cue, mr. pickles let out a loud, approving purr from her spot at the other end of the room, delicately grooming her very pregnant self. her tail flicked in what you could only assume was satisfaction at being included in this hypothetical revenge plot. geto chuckled, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. "there you have it. mr. pickles as judge, jury, and executioner. iâm officially terrified." you smiled, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger. "as you should be. she takes no prisoners."
âand neither do i,â he murmured, his tone dipping as he tilted his head up to kiss you. the shift in mood was sudden but not unwelcome. his lips pressed against yours with the kind of determination that made you forget how to breathe for a second. his hands slid to your hips, holding you in place as he leaned back against the cushions, taking you with him. "youâre really trying to prove a point, huh?" you teased, breath hitching as his grip tightened. "i donât think words are enough," he said between kisses, his voice low and smooth. "actions speak louder, right?" and speak they did. his hands wandered lower, firmly grabbing the soft curve of your ass, earning a surprised squeak from you. "suguru," you warned half-heartedly, though your hips involuntarily shifted against him. he grinned up at you, the picture of smug satisfaction. "what? i donât hear you complaining."
âyet,â you shot back, but your body betrayed you, rolling your hips again as heat pooled in your stomach. "thought so," he said, voice dipping into a near growl. his hands guided your movements, holding you steady as he kissed you again, deeper this time. it wasnât just apologetic; it was hungry, desperate, and laced with a promise to make up for every missed second. mr. pickles, ever the unbothered queen, yawned loudly from her perch. apparently, the impending chaos was none of her business.Â
things were absolutely peachyâliterally and figurativelyâbecause there you were, straddling geto on your worn-out couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. his tie had been discarded somewhere (youâll probably find it wedged under the couch cushions next month), and his usually crisp shirt was wrinkled beyond salvation. his hands, warm and firm, roamed over your thighs and hips, eventually settling on your ass, which he seemed determined to commit to memory with the way he kept squeezing. it was flattering, really. all those squats and lugging around mr. picklesâ oversized carrier had not gone unnoticed.
âyouâre really into this, huh?â you teased between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip just to feel the soft hitch in his breath. he grinned against your lips, shameless and unrepentant. âwhat can i say? iâm a man of taste.â his hands squeezed again, making you jolt slightly. âand damn, this is a masterpiece.â
âoh my god, suguru,â you groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified. âyou sound like a bad rom-com character.â he tilted his head back, letting out a deep, rumbling laugh that made your stomach flip. âhey, i call it like i see it. canât help it if iâm honest.â
âyeah, well, your honestyâs about to get you kicked off this couch,â you shot back, though your hands betrayed you, sliding up his chest to cup his face. âoh, câmon,â he said, leaning up to kiss you again, softer this time, like he was trying to remind you exactly why you hadnât kicked him out yet. âyouâd miss me too much.â and then, because suguru geto couldnât let a moment of peace exist, he smirked and said, âbesides, youâre the grandma of the house. gotta respect my elders.â you froze, pulling back just enough to stare at him with a look that could melt steel. âexcuse me?â
âgrandma,â he repeated, entirely too pleased with himself. âyou know, since youâre mr. picklesâ mom and all. technically makes youââ
âi swear to god, suguru,â you interrupted, cutting him off with a sharp pinch to his side that made him yelp. âdo you have a death wish?â
âwhat? itâs a term of endearment!â he tried, though his laughter betrayed him. âyouâre lucky i like nerds,â you muttered, but your lips betrayed you, curving into a reluctant smile as you leaned down to kiss him again. âlucky indeed,â he murmured, hands finding their favorite spot once more. mr. pickles, meanwhile, let out a loud, judgmental meow from her perch, as if to remind both of you who really ran this house.
and geto? geto was panicking. like, full-blown, internal monologue of doom panicking. sure, he looked calm on the outsideâwell, except for the faint pink creeping up his neck and the way his hands were starting to tremble just a bit against your hips. but inside? oh, it was a mess.
he loves ass. he loves your ass. in fact, he loves you. and while those three facts should be enough to keep him focused and confident, they were doing the exact opposite. becauseâplot twistâhe hasnât exactly been in the game for a while. âokay, breathe, suguru,â he muttered to himself under his breath, trying to keep his cool as your hands idly played with the collar of his shirt. but your superwoman instincts picked up on everything , and your raised brow as you looked down at him only made things worse. âyou good?â you asked, voice soft and teasing, but laced with genuine concern. âyeah, totally,â he replied too quickly, clearing his throat like that would erase the way his voice cracked. âiâm justâuh. just, you know... thinking.â you tilted your head, watching him with that infuriatingly cute little smile that made his stomach flip. âabout what? youâre usually a lot smoother than this, geto.â
âoh god, iâm blowing it,â he groaned, letting his head thump lightly against the back of the couch as he finally let the words tumble out. âitâs just... itâs been a while, okay? iâm out of practice or whatever, and now iâm worried iâm gonna, like, disappoint you or something. and that grandma joke? yeah, that was supposed to kill the mood so i could avoid all of this.â you blinked at him, caught between laughter and disbelief. âare you serious right now?â
âpainfully.â he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his other hand still planted on your hip. âyouâre amazing, and i just... i donât want to mess this up.â for a moment, you just stared at him, and he could feel himself shrinking under your gaze. but then, the smile that spread across your face was nothing short of wicked. âoh, suguru,â you murmured, leaning down so your lips brushed against his ear. âyou have no idea whatâs coming, do you?â his breath hitched as your hand slid down to the buttons of his shirt, popping one open with a practiced ease that made his heart skip a beat. âw-what do you mean?â
âi mean,â you said, voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sent shivers down his spine, âiâm about to make sure you never, ever doubt yourself again. youâre gonna be too busy thanking me to think about whether or not youâre âout of practice.ââ
he swallowed hard, trying to think of a coherent response, but all that came out was a strangled, âuh â okay.â
âgood,â you said simply, shifting your weight and sliding down his lap. and as he looked down at you, wide-eyed and completely at your mercy, one thing became crystal clear to suguru geto: he was absolutely, 100%, in over his head.
-
diva down? diva down. the diva in question being you. you, the self-proclaimed diva of the century, were currently on your knees, ready to turn suguru getoâs jittery, bashful energy into something far more relaxedâwell, if relaxed meant completely wrecked. and honestly? you were thriving. âoh god,â geto let out a breathless laugh, raking a hand through his loose hair as he looked down at you, his cheeks pink and his eyes hazy with anticipation. âyou donât have toââ
âstop,â you cut him off with a teasing smirk, fingers already working on his belt with the precision of someone on a mission. âdonât ruin my moment, suguru.â he laughed again, that soft, breathless kind that made your stomach do flips. âright, wouldnât dream of it.â as you slid his belt free and popped open the button of his slacks, you couldnât help but notice how his chest rose and fell just a bit faster, the faintest hint of nerves lingering in his gaze. âyou good up there?â you asked, giving him a little grin. ây-yeah,â he stammered, licking his lips. âjust... uhh, taking it all in.â
âoh, youâre gonna be taking a lot more than that in a second,â you teased, tugging at his slacks. he groaned, tipping his head back against the couch as he laughed again, but he still lifted his hips eagerly to help you slide the fabric down. and holy shit. those slacks had been doing a lot of heavy lifting, and now, with them out of the way, you were faced with undeniable proof that suguru geto was not just hot, but also packing. âdamn,â you muttered, your eyes widening just a bit as you took him in. âwhat?â he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness, but also curiosity. ânothing,â you said quickly, though your smirk betrayed you. âjust... wow.â
âwow?â he echoed, his brows lifting.
âwow,â you confirmed, leaning in closer. âyouâre full of surprises, huh?â
he chuckled softly, his hand coming down to rest gently on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that was almost too sweet for the situation. âi could say the same about you,â he murmured, his voice low and warm. âoh, suguru,â you said with a teasing lilt, your hands bracing against his thighs as you leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him. âyou have no idea.â and as you finally got to work, suguru let out a sound that was half laugh, half moan, his head tipping back as his hand slid into your hair. yeah, it was definitely going to be a long nightâfor both of you. and honestly?
bless men raised by their mothers. or at least men who respect women beyond a surface level, because suguru geto? he was proving himself to be a certified sweetheart even with his brain turned to mush. "god, you're...you're so good at this," he babbled, voice pitched just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "likeâohhh, fuckâyouâre perfect. seriously, i donât know howâfuckâyouâre even real."
you couldnât help but smirk around him, though the sheer earnestness in his tone was making your head spin. suguru wasnât just moaningâno, he was giving you a running commentary like his life depended on it. and honestly? the mix of his praise, his ridiculous vocabulary, and the raw honesty of his reactions were doing more for you than you cared to admit. "shiiit, babe," he groaned, his hand tightening in your hair as his hips shifted just slightly, like he was trying to hold himself back. "youâre incredible. so... so fuckingâgod, youâre beautiful." you hummed against him, letting the vibrations travel through him, and the broken moan he let out in response was almost enough to make you moan.âiâfuck,â he stammered, his free hand clenching and unclenching on the couch cushion as though he was trying to ground himself. âi canât evenâfuck, youâre amazing. you know that, right? like, amazing.âÂ
it was ridiculous, really. this level of detailed, horny babbling shouldnât be hot, and yet, suguruâs desperate, unfiltered honesty was doing a number on you. youâd kiss him if your mouth wasnât otherwise occupied. âyouâre gonnaâoh fuck, youâre gonna ruin me,â he rasped, his words punctuated by a low, shaky laugh. âlike, actually. no coming back from this. youâreâshitâso perfect, babe. i donât even know how youâre real.â you glanced up at him briefly, catching the flush on his cheeks and the dazed, almost reverent look in his eyes. he looked wrecked already, and you werenât even close to finished. yeah, men raised right were a blessing. and suguru geto? he was living proof.
suguru was going to cry. or die. or both. maybe at the same time. because when a simple, god-loving, god-fearing man like him thought of youâhis girl, his loveâhis mind didnât stop at the surface. no, it wandered far, far into the future. he dared to dream big: marriage, a nice house with you, gojo cat and mr. pickles running the place with their eventual brood of kittens, and maybe, if he let himself get really carried away, a kid or two of your own. but this? this was not in the script. not the way he imagined this happening, not this soon. was he complaining, though? no, not one bit. still, suguru couldnât shake the way his brain was short-circuiting. what if you thought this was weird? not the moment itselfâbecause, holy shit, this moment was unrealâbut the way he couldnât control the ridiculous rambling bubbling out of him.
âgod, youâre... youâre gonna be the death of me,â he stammered, his voice breaking slightly as his hand tightened on the couch cushion beneath him. âseriously. iâm done for. youâveâfuckâyouâve got me wrapped around your finger. literally, figuratively... h-hell, every way there is.â he let out a shaky laugh, his other hand brushing the edge of your jaw, his touch featherlight like he was afraid heâd break youâor worse, wake up and find out this was all a dream. âyou have no idea, do you?â he murmured, his tone softening even as his breaths came uneven. âhow much iâfuck, how much i love you.â
that admission was supposed to stay locked in his chest, hidden away alongside the future house and the diary full of thoughts he would probably never admit aloud. but there it was, laid bare in the open. his throat tightened as he watched for your reaction, his heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to break free. his mind raced with every possibilityâwhat if you thought he was moving too fast? what if this ruined everything?
you were going to die. or cry. or both. maybe not in that order, but the emotional whiplash was real. because while you wereâlet's face itâgiving the performance of your life, suguru geto had the audacity to play the wildest card in his hand: he told you he loved you. the words hit you like a sucker punch, making your brain screech to a halt. you paused, pulling him out of your mouth with a slick, obscene pop, a strand of spit still connecting the two of you as you gaped at him like heâd just told you the earth was flat. âwait, what?â your voice was hoarse, a little breathless, and full of disbelief. your hands remained steady on his thighs, but you werenât about to let that slide. âsay that again.â
suguru blinked at you, his flushed face half-covered by the messy curtain of his hair. and yet, somehow, he still looked every bit the breathtaking dork you fell for. âi... i said i love you,â he mumbled, his voice soft, but you could see the telltale signs of his nerves in the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. oh, you knew you won now. your lips curved into a sly, wicked grin, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons that had nothing to do with what you were doing moments ago. âgood,â you said simply, your voice low and teasing, before brushing your thumb over his hip bone in a way that made him shiver. âbecause i love you too, suguru.â the way his eyes widened, his chest hitching in disbelief, was almost enough to undo you completely. but you werenât done. oh no, not by a long shot.
you leaned in again, doubling down on your efforts with a newfound determination, your mouth warm and eager as you took him back in. this time, you didnât hold back, letting him feel just how much you meant those words. the soft noises tumbling out of him turned into broken, desperate moans as you let him slide deeper, letting him bump against the back of your throat with a confidence that made his hips jerk. âholyâfucck, baby, â he gasped, his voice trembling as his hands instinctively tangled in your hair. âyouâreâoh my godâi canâtââ
and just like that, he was gone. the way his body tensed, his hand gripping the back of the couch like a lifeline, was all the warning you got before he tipped over the edge, his release hitting you with an intensity that left him trembling beneath you. you pulled back slightly, swallowing and smirking as he looked down at you with dazed, love-struck eyes, his chest heaving. âyou okay there, lover boy?â you teased, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you crawled up to straddle him. he groaned, dragging his hands over his flushed face, but even through his embarrassment, you could see the adoration shining in his gaze. âyouâre going to be the death of me,â he muttered, but the small, lovesick smile on his lips said he wouldnât have it any other way.
somewhere in the tangled chaos of his mind, suguru was thinking about reciprocity in customary international lawâsomething about how states are expected to treat each other in kind. why this popped into his head as he helped you up from your knees, he had no idea. maybe his brain was short-circuiting from everything that had just transpired. or maybe it was just his nerdy coping mechanism for the sheer intensity of what was about to go down. either way, he shelved the thought because all he knewâclearly, distinctly, and beyond a shadow of a doubtâwas that you needed help. erm, his girl needed help. and suguru geto? he was nothing if not a gentleman. âalright, up you go,â he said, his voice warm and teasing as he hooked an arm around you, effortlessly lifting you.
before you could even fully process what was happening, he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, carrying you to the bed. âoh my god, suguru!â you squealed, smacking his back, but there was no real heat behind it. " shh, this is for your benefit,â he said, laughing softly as he adjusted his grip. and with a surprising amount of precision for a man who had just been thoroughly flustered minutes earlier, he tossed you onto the bed. somehow, miraculously, you landed gracefullyâno awkward angles or unflattering positions. before you could catch your breath, suguru was already yanking down your pajama shorts, his movements sure and deliberate. his hair, still a little messy from your earlier efforts, framed his face as he looked down at you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of affection and hunger. you smirked, propping yourself up on your elbows. âyou know, if youâre really feeling sorry, thereâs one thing you could do.â his brows raised, intrigued. âoh? whatâs that?â
âsit down,â you said casually, leaning back against the pillows. âbecause iâm sitting on your face.â suguru froze for half a second, and you could swear you saw his soul leave his body. but then he let out a low, almost reverent laugh, his hands already sliding up your thighs as he knelt onto the bed. âyouâre killing me,â he muttered, his lips curving into a grin that was equal parts adoring and wicked. âbut if you insistâŠâ and as he settled himself beneath you, looking up at you with pure devotion, he thought to himselfâif he had a ring right now, heâd propose without a second thought.
sit on his face? seriously? where the hell did that confidence come from? because letâs be realâhave you ever sat on someoneâs face before? no? yeah, thatâs what i thought. so it really serves you right for hovering over suguruâs face in the most awkward, hesitant way possible after you practically tore your underwear off like a woman on a mission. and suguru, bless his sweet, sweet soul, was waiting so patiently. expectantly, even. until he let out this deep chuckleâlow and warm and way too sexy for your own goodâand before you could spiral any further into overthinking, he reached up and yanked you down onto his face. oh. OH. there was no time to process, no moment to think, because suddenly the same mouth that usually went on and on about laws, treaties, and whatever international nonsense was now french kissing your cunt like it was his one true calling in life.
you moanedâloud and borderline pornographicâbut could you really help it? suguru groaned against you, the vibrations shooting straight through you as his grip tightened on your thighs, holding you firmly in place like he had absolutely no plans of letting you escape. you tried. god, you tried to play it cool. tried to pull a geto on him with a little bit of horny babbling of your own, figuring heâd appreciate the effort. but every time you so much as opened your mouth to string a coherent sentence together, suguru would double down on his actionsâhis tongue flicking or curling in ways that had you seeing starsâand whatever youâd been planning to say vanished into the void, replaced by high-pitched whines and breathy moans.
âsuguruâoh my godââ
he hummed in response, the sound smug and almost teasing as he looked up at you from between your legs, his dark eyes practically glowing with amusement and pride. âyou talk too much,â he mumbled against you, the words muffled but clear enough to make your face heat up. and honestly? youâd be offended if he werenât so goddamn good at what he was doing.
geto was putting in the work. the work. and you? you were trying not to cry or completely lose your mind, but if you did, you had a sneaking suspicion heâd love it more than anything. the man had a thing for dramaâespecially if it was drama he caused. but in the middle of all this face-sitting, tongue-lapping, thigh-gripping madness, you noticed something else.
geto was hard. painfully so. the sight of him below you was already sinful enough, but the way his erection strained against his boxers, twitching every time you moaned his name, was almost too much. his response time to recover was unrealâmaddening, evenâbut considering it was you on top of him, you liked to think you deserved the credit. and since a wise saying says to love your neighbor as yourself, you decided to help a man out. literally. your hand snaked down between you two, wrapping around his length with a touch that had him freezing for a split second. âwhat are youâoh, fuck, â geto choked out, the sound muffled against your thighs as you yanked down his boxers and started stroking him.
he let out a garbled groan andâyou couldnât make this upâspat. he outright spat onto your cunt, the hot slickness dripping between your folds, and you? you loved it. the move earned him a sharp gasp, followed by a breathless laugh as you sped up your hand, squeezing him just enough to draw out those pretty whines you loved so much. âoh my god, suguru,â you teased, voice shaky but teasing nonetheless. âdid you justâ?â
âshut up,â he grunted, his words nearly swallowed by a low moan as you swiped your thumb over his tip. âyouâre the oneâfuckâdriving me insane right now.â and judging by the desperate way he buried his face against you, tongue moving feverishly as his hips bucked into your hand, youâd say he was enjoying this just as much as you were. but the real kicker? when you came, your body instinctively pressed down against his face, your thighs squeezing tight enough to almost cut off his air supply. geto didnât complain. not once. if anything, the muffled groan against your cunt and the way he jerked against your hand as he came told you heâd gladly die like this if it came to it. but luckily for both of you, you lived to tell the tale.
once the both of you had managed to throw on some semblance of clothing, clean up, and collapse into the bed, thatâs when reality hit geto like a brick wall. what. the. hell. just happened. as he laid there, his arm slung lazily around you, your soft breathing against his chest, his brain decided now was the perfect time to spiral. he glanced over at mr. pickles, who sat perched on the counter in the kitchenette, her tail flicking in judgment. the cat looked like she was debating calling the authorities on him for defiling her beloved owner. oh god. what does this make the two of you?
no, scratch that. the real panic set in when he remembered: he told you he loved you. not in some subtle, cute, roundabout way either. no, it was the full-blown, l-o-v-e type of confession. the kind he wrote about in his secret diary he kept under his bed. the kind that implied white picket fences, shared dreams, and a life together. and judging by the way you were pressed against him, one leg draped over his, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his bare chest (because yes, the formal shirt had been entirely ditched), you were either about to let him down easy or...
oh god.
âyou okay?â your soft voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, your hand pausing its movements as you tilted your head to look up at him. he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing. âuh, yeah. yeah, totally fine.â you squinted at him, your lips twitching like you were trying not to laugh. âyou sure? youâre looking a little... out of it.â well, there was no way out of this now. in all his dorkus glory, he blurted out the dreaded question:
âso, uh... what are we?â
the words hung in the air for a second, and geto wanted to melt into the mattress. but instead of laughing or teasing him, you smiled, your expression soft and fond. âwhat do you want us to be?â
âi mean...â he swallowed hard, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. âi said i loved you, so... maybe something serious?â you grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. âgood. because iâm not letting you go after that performance, lover boy.â and just like that, geto decided he could die happy. even if mr. pickles never forgave him.
chapter 6: the class youâll never forget
geto woke up feeling like the main character in some rom-com where everything had finally fallen into place. the sun was shining directly on his face, his skin was clear, the tension that had been tying his muscles in knots for weeks was gone, and most importantly, there was you snuggled up next to him. your soft snores were music to his ears, and mr. pickles' contented purring from her nesting area completed the picture. everything was perfect. except for the yeowling.
it started faint, like the distant sound of a car alarm, and grew steadily louder. groaning, geto rubbed his face. âwhat the hell...?â he suddenly bolted upright, realization hitting him like a freight train. âoh no. oh no, no, no.â you groggily stirred beside him, blinking up at him in confusion. âwhatâs wrong?â
âgojo,â he groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. âi left him alone in my apartment last night. he probably thinks iâm dead.â you blinked, then snorted. âthatâs dramatic, even for a cat.â
but geto wasnât joking. heâd seen gojo cat throw tantrums over him leaving for ten minutes to grab milk. this? this was abandonment on a grand scale in the eyes of the overly dramatic feline. as if on cue, the voice of your landlord, yaga, boomed from the other side of the door. âkeep that cat quiet, or iâm calling animal control!â you gasped indignantly, sitting up. âexcuse me! mr. pickles would neverââ
âitâs not mr. pickles!â geto groaned, already throwing on his pants. âitâs my overly theatricalââ
just as he was about to open the door to go upstairs, a loud thud echoed from the direction of your fire escape. the two of you froze.
âwhat was that?â you whispered.
geto peeked out the window, his jaw dropping. âoh my god. no.â
there, perched precariously on the fire escape outside your window, was gojo cat. his tail swished furiously, and he was glaring through the glass like he had just tracked his runaway owner down on sheer willpower alone.
âhe... jumped from my window to yours.â
âthatâs, like, one story up!â you exclaimed.
âi know!â
gojo cat let out another ear-piercing yeowwww! that sounded suspiciously like he was cursing geto out in feline language. âokay, okay , iâm coming!â geto sighed, sliding the window open to let the cat in. gojo cat pranced inside with all the dignity of someone who had just won an olympic gold medal, ignoring you entirely as he hopped onto getoâs torso and began aggressively kneading his shoulder. âiâm sorry, okay?â geto muttered. âi didnât mean to abandon you.â gojo cat meowed smugly, his forgiveness conditional.
âso... how mad would you be if i told you yaga still thinks this is mr. picklesâ fault?â you asked, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. geto groaned, flopping back onto the bed, gojo cat still perched on his chest. âthis is my life now. cat dad, tenant offender, and boyfriend to the worldâs most beautiful woman.â you grinned, kissing his cheek. âand donât you forget it.â
gojo cat, ever the drama queen, was about to make a grand display of his wrath, his tail swishing like an emperor preparing to deliver a royal decree. but then, he saw her.
mr. pickles. lounging in her nesting area, belly round with her impending litter, she cast him the most witheringly judgmental side-eye known to catkind. it wasnât even subtle. her disdain radiated like heat off asphalt, and for a moment, gojo catâs indignant rage faltered. but then, like the suave rogue he believed himself to be, he straightened up, puffed out his chest, and strutted toward her with a confidence that could only be described as delusional. it was all tail flicks and exaggerated steps, as though the very floor beneath him had the privilege of bearing his paws.
and thenâsmack. the grand feline tumbled, face planting into the ground with all the grace of a wet noodle.
you tried to stifle your laugh, but the sound still slipped out. geto choked back a snort, muttering, âthatâs my boy.â mr. pickles, however, did not laugh. no, the dignified queen merely let out a single approving chirp, a sound that might have translated to "pathetic, but amusing." gojo cat, undeterred by his embarrassing mishap, rose with renewed determination. and with the kind of courage that made you question if he had a screw loose, he approached mr. pickles once more, his intentions clear.
âno way,â you whispered.
âhe wouldnât,â geto added, equally mesmerized.
but he did. gojo cat, in what he undoubtedly believed was the ultimate gesture of love, began grooming mr. pickles. grooming her. and she let him.
for a moment, you thought she was going to swipe at him with all the fury of a hormonal mom-to-be. but no. she actually closed her eyes, her purring like a soft motor. it was... surreal.
âdid we just witness the biggest romance of the century?â you asked, genuinely baffled. âbigger than us?â geto teased, pulling you closer. âway bigger,â you deadpanned.
as you both watched the unlikely duo share their moment, you couldnât help but laugh. gojo cat was clearly putting his all into his attempt at love, and mr. pickles? well, she looked like she was actually enjoying it.
âah, love,â geto sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your head. âeven dumber than us,â you added, shaking your head in disbelief.
-
you were on cloud nine, feeling a level of peace and contentment that only came from having a hot law nerd boyfriend and a cat with enough sass to rival gojo cat himself. geto's bmw hummed quietly beneath you as the two of you cruised toward campus. it wasnât just the morning coffee kicking in; it was the knowledge that if this man dared to be lateâeven by two minutesâmr. pickles would end him. like, not even metaphorically. sheâd leap on him, claws out, and make him regret. because mr. pickles loved his hair. she loved kneading it, curling her paws into his long, luscious locks as if claiming her personal throne. and honestly? you got it. if you were a cat, youâd do the same. hell, even as a human, youâd do it (and did, regularly).
as he pulled into the parking lot, the goodbye routine began. âdonât forget to text me when your class ends,â he said, already pulling you into a warm hug. âdonât forget to pick me up, or weâre breaking up,â you countered sweetly, earning a laugh from him. âyouâre scary, you know that?â he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. âand youâre my very gorgeous, very whipped boyfriend,â you shot back, leaning up for a kiss. he wouldnât dream of ghosting youânot when you were this beautiful, amazing, kind, and, obviously, a little unhinged. as he opened your door and helped you out like the true gentleman he was, he insisted on walking you all the way to the front entrance. his hand rested at the small of your back, a gesture that had you swooning even as you teased him.
âyou do know youâre going to be late, right?â
âworth it,â he replied with a grin, bending down to kiss your cheek. but just as you were about to part ways, a booming voice shattered the moment.
âGETO! LAW STUDENTS BUILDING! NOW!â
you both turned to see a very exasperated professor waving frantically at him from across the quad. you couldnât help but laugh as geto sighed, muttering under his breath about how âlove is a battlefield.â he gave you one last kiss, muttered a promise to pick you up later (or else), and jogged off. you watched him go, smiling like an idiot as you whispered, âah, love.â
the day started fine. better than fine, actuallyâyou left getoâs bmw with a kiss and the knowledge that your cat, mr. pickles, was safe and sound in her nesting area, glaring at gojo cat with the fury only a pregnant feline could muster. but halfway through your lecture on post-modern feminist theories (a riveting topic, truly), your phone buzzed. it wasnât a normal notification. no, it was the cctv feed suguru had installed as a âgiftâ to keep an eye on your âqueenâ (read: your absolute dictator cat). and there she wasâmr. picklesâkneading her nesting area with an urgency that sent a chill down your spine.
âoh. oh no. oh dear god.â you whispered, staring at the screen as she let out a war cry that could only mean one thing: grandmahood was happening. you shot up from your seat so fast your desk screeched against the floor. âis everything okay?â your professor asked, startled by your abrupt movement.
âuh, yeah! just â cat emergency! sheâs â uh â giving birth!â you stammered, already halfway out the door.
âcongratulations?â someone in the back called out, earning a round of laughter you had no time for.
you sprinted through campus like a woman possessed, your backpack bouncing behind you as you cursed yourself for not realizing mr. picklesâ morning mood wasnât jealousy but labor. and thenâbecause fate had to test youâgeto appeared, casually strolling toward the law building with his usual unbothered grace. âbabe?â he called out, watching you bolt past him like you were auditioning for the olympics. âno time to explain!â you yelled over your shoulder. he frowned, putting two and two together because, letâs face it, the manâs a genius. âis it mr. pickles?!â
âYES!â
and then he started running behind you.
âsuguru!â you wheezed, already out of breath. âGET YOUR CAR!â
âwhy?â he shouted, effortlessly keeping pace with you.
âbecause weâre running across a campus thatâs like thousand acres and I WILL DIE!â
he paused, muttering something about how you were so dramatic, before pivoting on his heel and sprinting toward the parking lot.
you barely made it to the main road before suguruâs bmw skidded to a stop beside you.
âget in!â he barked, throwing the passenger door open.
âi swear to god, if she starts delivering while weâre stuck in traffic ââ
âsheâs not gonna start without you,â he said, rolling his eyes.
âcats donât work like that, suguru!â
âwell, neither do women, but here we are,â he shot back, pulling into the driveway of your building.
you bolted out of the car, taking the stairs two at a time while suguru trailed behind with all the urgency of a man who knows heâll be the one cleaning up whatever mess awaited. when you burst into the apartment, mr. pickles was mid-contraction, glaring at you like, finally, my useless human has arrived. gojo cat, meanwhile, looked terrified, hovering at a safe distance as if he was considering calling 911. âokay, okay, weâre here!â you panted, dropping to your knees beside mr. pickles. suguru followed, looking at the scene with wide eyes. âdo...do we call a vet?â
âno! sheâs got this. we just have to support her!â
âsupport her how?â
âi donât know! emotional support?â
âsheâs a cat!â
mr. pickles let out a low growl, silencing suguruâs protests. âokay, okay, iâll shut up,â he muttered, backing away slightly. the door creaked open, and there stood shoko, still in her scrubs and sporting the exhausted yet curious expression of someone returning from a night shift only to walk straight into chaos. âwhatâs going on here?â she asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. you barely spared her a glance as you clutched suguruâs arm. âmr. pickles is in labor. itâs a whole thing. prayers are appreciated.â
âprayers?â she scoffed, stepping closer. âiâm a doctor. i got this.â
relief washed over you. âthank god, shoko! we could use an actual professional!â
but the moment she peeked over the edge of mr. picklesâ nesting area and caught sight of a tiny kitten halfway out, her calm demeanor shattered.
âOH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!â
âwhat do you think it is?â suguru deadpanned, visibly unimpressed. âi donât know! i didnât sign up for this!â shoko shrieked, stumbling backward and holding her hands up as if warding off an unholy demon.
you blinked at her, utterly dumbfounded. âarenât you a doctor?â
âa human doctor! this is nature gone rogue! â
mr. pickles, clearly unamused by shokoâs dramatics, let out a low, guttural growl that sent the so-called professional scurrying back to the doorway. âyouâre on your own,â shoko muttered, lighting a cigarette like the events unfolding in your living room werenât directly her problem. meanwhile, gojo cat, always the overachiever, decided he needed to help. unfortunately, his idea of help involved attempting to paw at the nearest kitten. âdonât even think about it!â suguru warned, his voice laced with exasperation.
but it was too lateâmr. pickles, mid-contraction, turned her fiery gaze on gojo cat, who froze like a deer in headlights. one wrong flick of his tail, and mr. pickles let out a feral hiss that could have sent shoko back to med school. gojo cat, realizing he had crossed the line, slinked back to the corner, tail tucked between his legs, his usual swagger replaced with what could only be described as embarrassed defeat. âwell, thatâs one way to keep him in line,â you muttered.
âthis is insane,â shoko said, still watching from the doorway. âhow do you people live like this?â
âwe manage,â suguru replied, his tone completely void of humor as he massaged his temples.
the next hour was a whirlwind of cat screams, your whispered words of encouragement, and suguru pacing like an expectant father in a sitcom. âshould we name one after me?â he asked at one point, earning a glare from both you and mr. pickles as she finally let out one final push, and another tiny kitten entered the world. you let out a relieved sigh, and suguru finally cracked a smile. he was crouched beside you, holding your hand as if you were the one giving birth. âyou did amazing,â he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.
âshe did amazing,â you corrected, motioning to mr. pickles.
âteam effort,â he replied with a grin.
and as mr. pickles began cleaning her newest babies, shoko muttered from the door, âyouâre all insane. call me when itâs over.â
âyouâre the godmother, shoko!â you called after her, earning a muffled string of curses as she disappeared down the hall.
âweâre gonna need so much cat food,â he muttered, pulling you close.
ah, the miracle of life.
-
a few weeks had passed since d-dayâdelivery day, or as suguru had renamed it, âdomestic chaos day.â the kittens were growing faster than you thought possible, transforming your once peaceful apartment into a battlefield. mr. pickles ruled the roost with an iron paw, while gojo catâs ego took a daily beating as the kittens bested him at every turn. every time one managed to leap higher, run faster, or swipe his tail just right, his tail would puff up in indignation like a furry balloon. youâd managed to rehome a few of the kittens, starting with shoko.
her kittenâaffectionately dubbed âroachâ for her uncanny ability to survive despite zero effortâwas the perfect match. low-maintenance, unfazed, and perpetually napping. shoko had initially protested, but now youâd catch her sending you pictures of roach curled up in her sink or casually perched on her liquor cabinet.
then there was yuuji. poor, sweet, persistent yuuji. heâd campaigned harder for a kitten than some politicians do for office. the boy went through hoops â begging you, suguru, choso, sukuna, and even mr. pickles. you werenât sure how heâd pulled it off, but eventually, he was deemed worthy of a black-and-white troublemaker he promptly named âgumi.â the kitten adored yuuji and spent most of his time riding on his shoulders like a parrot, though you suspected yuuji let him get away with far too much.
sukuna, on the other hand, had reluctantly taken the runt of the litter after it refused to leave him alone. âdonât need some damn cat,â heâd grumbled the entire way home. now? the tiny kitten followed him everywhere, even sneaking into his apron pockets after he came back from work. he pretended to hate it, but the soft grumbles about âstupid runtâ were always followed by careful, protective pats on the kittenâs tiny head.
but the biggest surprise of all came when suguru decided to make your relationship publicâon linkedin. linkedin, of all places.
it had started as a joke. youâd teased him about not âproperly asking you outâ after all this time, and before you knew it, heâd crafted a three-paragraph-long post about you. âin a comitted relationship with the love of my life, and no, this isnât a humble brag â itâs a masterpiece,â heâd typed with the fervor of a man defending his dissertation. the post included references to romantic literature, quotes from classic movies, and, somehow, a detailed analysis of how mr. pickles and gojo cat played pivotal roles in your story.
youâd wanted to die of second-hand embarrassment, but the post blew up. colleagues, professors, and even strangers commented, congratulating the two of you. âyouâre insane,â youâd told him, hiding your face in his chest as he laughed. âinsane about you,â he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
life wasnât perfect â it was loud, chaotic, and occasionally overwhelming. but with mr. pickles, gojo cat, and your ridiculous yet lovable boyfriend, it was better than you ever imagined.
feline parenthood? best decision ever.
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maybe maybe - jeon wonwoo imagine
hellooooo ~ i need to give myself a pat in the back for this bcs OH MY GOSH EVEN I WAS GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET WHILE WRITING THIS. the slooooow burn on thisđ« we love a nonchalant and oa combo (if u know u know)
also i was listening to maybe maybe by lola amour while writing this. give it a listen to get the maximum feelsđ
for my other svt fics, check them here
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)
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Youâve liked Jeon Wonwoo for as long as you can remember. Itâs not a fleeting crush or some shallow infatuationâitâs the kind of feeling that lingers, like a persistent shadow. He knows it; everyone does. But as much as your friends tease you about your obvious affection for him, Wonwoo has never acknowledged it.
Not once.
Wonwoo is the epitome of calm indifference. Heâs polite, sure, but he never goes out of his way to engage with anyone outside of his tight-knit circle of friends, Vernon and Minghao. Theyâre always together, laughing at inside jokes and radiating an air of effortless cool that only makes him seem more unreachable.
And yet, you canât help yourself. Youâre drawn to him like a moth to a flame, even though he treats you no differently than anyone else.
Sometimes you wonder if he even notices the little things you do for himâthe way you save him a seat in class when heâs running late, or how you always bring an extra drink to study group just in case he wants one. You tell yourself youâre just being nice, but Mimi, your best friend, sees right through you.
âThis is ridiculous,â she tells you one afternoon, leaning back in her chair with an exasperated sigh.
The two of you are sitting outside on the campus lawn, the warm sunlight doing little to ease the frustration in her voice. âYouâre bending over backward for a guy who canât even spare you a second glance.â
âHeâs not that bad,â you argue weakly, though even you know itâs a poor defense. Mimi raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
âNot that bad? Y/N, heâs like a brick wall with glasses. Sure, heâs good-looking, but you canât build a relationship on eye contact alone.â
âIâm not trying to build a relationship!â you protest, though your cheeks heat at the lie. âI just⊠I like being around him, thatâs all.â
Mimi rolls her eyes. âYou like torturing yourself, is what you mean. Honestly, if I didnât know you better, Iâd think you enjoy the challenge.â
Maybe sheâs right. Maybe thereâs a part of you that holds onto this unrequited crush because itâs safer than the alternative. If you never confess, you can never be rejected. And as much as Wonwooâs aloofness stings, itâs still better than the thought of him outright telling you he doesnât feel the same.
But then there are momentsârare, fleeting momentsâwhen you catch a glimpse of something softer beneath his exterior. Like the time you lent him your notes for a class he missed, and he returned them with a quiet âThanksâ and a small, almost imperceptible smile. Or the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than usual when you bumped into him at the library last week.
Itâs those moments that keep you hanging on, no matter how much Mimi scolds you for it.
âYouâre hopeless,â she says with a shake of her head. But thereâs no real malice in her words, just the weary affection of someone whoâs watched you pine for too long. âI swear, one day youâre going to look back on this and laugh.â
You doubt it, but you donât say that out loud. Instead, you change the subject, steering the conversation toward something less painful.
Later that day, you find yourself crossing paths with Wonwoo outside the campus cafĂ©. Heâs with Vernon and Minghao, as usual, but when he sees you, he slows his pace, letting his friends walk ahead without him.
âHey,â he says, his voice as steady and unreadable as ever.
âHi,â you manage, your heart doing its usual somersault at the sight of him.
For a moment, you stand there, unsure of what to say. But before the silence can stretch too long, Wonwoo speaks again.
âThanks for the notes,â he says simply.
Itâs not much, just two words, but the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard. For once, it feels like heâs really looking at you, not just through you. And in that moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, thereâs hope after all.
Itâs a small step, but itâs enough to keep you going.
Mimi is relentless, as she always is when it comes to your love lifeâor lack thereof. Sheâs leaning against your desk chair in your dorm room, scrolling through her phone with a dramatic sigh.
âIâm telling you, Y/N, this guy is perfect for you. Heâs into photography, loves indie films, and heâs even in your lit class. Plus, he doesnât act like heâs living in a perpetual state of indifference.â She shoves her phone in your face, showing you a photo of a guy you vaguely recognize from class. Heâs cute, objectively speaking, with a kind smile and a soft, approachable vibe.
But you shake your head before Mimi can even finish her pitch. âIâm not interested.â
Mimi groans, tossing her phone onto your bed. âWhy do you do this to yourself? Itâs not like youâre dating Wonwoo, or that heâs even trying to date you. Youâre wasting your time on a guy who canât even bother to hold a real conversation with you.â
Her words hit harder than she probably intended, and for a moment, you feel the weight of the truth behind them. Sheâs rightânothing about your feelings for Wonwoo makes sense. You know itâs a losing game, but every time you even consider the idea of moving on, it feels wrong. Like youâd be betraying something youâve held onto for so long.
âItâs not that simple,â you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended.
Mimi softens at your tone, sinking onto the edge of your bed. âThen make it simple, Y/N. I get itâyou like him. But you canât keep doing this to yourself. You deserve someone who actually sees you.â
âI donât know if I want someone else to see me,â you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
Itâs frustratingâyouâre frustrated with yourself.
Every time you see Wonwoo, itâs like all the logic and advice youâve been given evaporates into thin air. All you see is him: the way his glasses slide down his nose when heâs reading, or the rare laugh that lights up his face when Vernon says something ridiculous. Itâs like heâs carved a permanent space in your mind, and no matter how hard you try, you canât make him leave.
Mimi looks at you like sheâs trying to solve a puzzle. âYouâre not even ready to like someone else, are you?â
You shake your head, a small, self-deprecating smile playing on your lips. âI donât think so. Itâs stupid, right? Holding onto feelings for someone who probably doesnât even think about me.â
âItâs not stupid,â she says, surprising you. âItâs just⊠hard to watch. Youâre one of the best people I know, Y/N, and it sucks to see you stuck on someone who doesnât appreciate that.â
Youâre about to respond when your phone buzzes on the desk. Itâs a notification from the group chat for your literature project, and your heart skips a beat when you see Wonwooâs name among the participants.
âSpeak of the devil,â Mimi mutters when she notices your expression. She doesnât need to ask who the message is from.
You open the chat to find a simple message from Wonwoo: I have some extra notes from class if anyone needs them. Just let me know.
Itâs not directed at you specifically, but your heart still flutters at the thought of him offering to help. Mimi catches the way your lips twitch into a faint smile and groans dramatically, flopping back onto your bed.
âYouâre hopeless,â she declares, though her tone is more resigned than annoyed.
You donât argue with her this time. Maybe you are hopeless, but youâre not ready to give up just yet. Because even though it doesnât make sense, even though itâs frustrating and irrational and probably a little pathetic, a part of you still believes thereâs something worth holding onto.
The next day, youâre determined to take a small step forward.
Wonwooâs message about the notes keeps replaying in your mind, like a sign you canât ignore. Itâs a flimsy excuse to talk to him, sure, but itâs enough to make you gather your courage and head toward the study hall where you know he likes to hang out.
You spot him right away, sitting at his usual corner table. His laptop is open, and a notebook lies beside it, his familiar neat handwriting filling the pages. But before you can take another step, you see her.
Sheâs sitting across from him, her dark hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Sheâs gorgeous in a natural, effortless way that makes you want to disappear on the spot. And the way Wonwoo looks at herâitâs like someone punched you in the stomach. His smile is soft, easy, like heâs known her forever. Heâs speaking to her with a comfort and warmth that heâs never shown you.
You freeze in place, your confidence evaporating in an instant. All the what-ifs and maybes that have kept you going suddenly feel childish and naive. You turn on your heel and leave before either of them can notice you.
The rest of the week feels like a blur. You donât have the energy to pretend everything is fine, and Mimi is quick to notice.
âWhatâs wrong with you lately?â she asks on Thursday, her eyes narrowing in concern as she sits across from you in the campus cafĂ©. âYouâve been moping around like someone stole your dog.â
You shrug, poking at your untouched sandwich. âItâs nothing.â
âLiar,â she says immediately. âCome on, spill.â
When you hesitate, she leans in closer, her voice softening. âIs it Wonwoo?â
The look on your face is answer enough.
Mimi lets out a groan, rubbing her temples. âY/N, youâve got to stop doing this to yourself. If heâs making you feel like thisââ
âItâs not his fault,â you cut in quickly. âHe doesnât even know how I feel.â
âExactly,â she says, exasperated. âYouâre tearing yourself apart over a guy who doesnât even know what heâs doing to you.â
You donât respond, and Mimi sighs. After a moment of silence, she leans forward with a determined look in her eyes.
âAlright, thatâs it. Iâm not letting you mope around all weekend. Thereâs a party on Saturday, and youâre coming with me.â
You open your mouth to protest, but she holds up a hand to stop you.
âNo excuses. You need a distraction, and Iâm going to make sure you have fun whether you like it or not.â
True to her word, Saturday evening finds you standing in front of the mirror, dressed in an outfit Mimi picked out for you. Itâs a little more daring than your usual styleâan off-the-shoulder black dress that hugs your figure in all the right placesâbut Mimi insists itâs perfect.
âYou look hot,â she declares, grinning as she adjusts the necklace around your neck. âWonwoo who?â
You laugh despite yourself, though the sound feels hollow. Mimi doesnât miss the way your smile falters, and she grabs your hands, forcing you to meet her gaze.
âListen, Y/N. Tonight is about you. Forget about Wonwoo, forget about everything else, and just have fun. You deserve to feel good about yourself, okay?â
âOkay,â you murmur, even though youâre not sure you believe it.
But as Mimi drags you out the door and toward the party, you canât help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, sheâs right. Maybe itâs time to let go, even if just for one night.
The bass from the speakers reverberates through your chest the moment you step inside the party venue. Itâs dimly lit, with neon lights flashing and a sea of people crowded around the dance floor and bar.
You feel out of place immediately, but Mimi, ever the extrovert, is in her element. She practically radiates confidence as she scans the room, her hand firmly gripping your wrist.
âThis is going to be fun,â she says with a grin, already pulling you toward the bar.
âMimi, waitââ you start to protest, but sheâs not listening. Within moments, sheâs ordering shots, her energy infectiously bold.
âTwo tequila shots, please!â she calls out over the noise, turning to you with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. âCome on, Y/N. You said youâd let loose tonight!â
âI didnât say Iâd drink,â you mumble, eyeing the small glasses as theyâre placed in front of you.
Mimi rolls her eyes. âOne shot wonât kill you. Itâs called liquid courage. Youâll thank me later.â
Before you can object again, sheâs shoving one of the glasses into your hand. Everything feels like itâs happening too fastâthe music, the lights, the crowd, and now this. You glance down at the clear liquid and then at Mimi, whoâs already downed hers like a pro.
âCheers to forgetting about all your worries!â she declares, clinking her empty glass against yours.
You sigh, realizing you have no way out, and tip the shot back. The alcohol burns as it goes down, and you cough slightly, grimacing at the taste. Mimi laughs and pats your back.
âThere you go! See? That wasnât so bad,â she says, already signaling for another round.
As Mimi orders more drinks, you glance around the room, trying to get your bearings.
You donât notice the way heads turn in your direction, but Wonwoo does.
From his spot in the corner of the room, heâs watching you.
Heâd seen you the moment you walked in, though he wasnât the only one. Itâs hard not to notice you tonight. You look stunning, completely different from your usual casual, understated style. The black dress youâre wearing accentuates your figure, and thereâs a confidence in the way you carry yourselfâeven if you donât feel it.
Vernon nudges him lightly, leaning in to murmur, âIsnât that Y/N?â
Wonwoo doesnât reply, his gaze fixed on you as you stand at the bar with Mimi. Heâs used to seeing you in hoodies and jeans, always looking comfortable and approachable. But tonight, youâre turning heads left and right, and itâs clear youâre out of your element.
âShe cleans up well,â Minghao comments casually, sipping his drink.
Wonwoo doesnât respond, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly. He watches as Mimi drags you further into the chaos of the party, her energy pulling you along like a whirlwind. You seem hesitant, your eyes wide as you take in the unfamiliar environment, but thereâs something endearing about it.
For a moment, Wonwoo feels a strange pang in his chest, though he canât quite place it. Maybe itâs because heâs not used to seeing you like this, so far removed from the quiet kindness you usually exude. Or maybe itâs the way other people are looking at youâthe guys whose eyes linger a little too long, the girls whispering behind their hands.
âDude,â Vernon says, snapping him out of his thoughts. âYou good?â
Wonwoo blinks, finally tearing his gaze away. âYeah,â he mutters, though his voice lacks conviction.
But even as his friends return to their conversation, Wonwoo canât help but glance back at you. Thereâs something about tonight that feels different, and for the first time in a long time, he wonders if heâs the one being left behind.
The alcohol was starting to buzz in your veins, making the room feel warmer and the noise more distant. Mimi was in her element, laughing and chatting with a group of students you vaguely recognized from campus. Somehow, youâd gotten swept up in their drinking games, and before you knew it, one shot had turned into two, then three.
Now, you were standing in a loose circle, your nerves on edge as you watched the current game unfold. Someone had explained it a moment ago: take the shot, then grab the lemon wedge held between another personâs lips. It was bold, far outside your comfort zone, but you didnât want to be the odd one out.
âYour turn, Y/N!â someone called, handing you a small shot glass filled with tequila.
Your hands felt clammy as you accepted it, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldnât even look at the person who was supposed to hold the lemon for youâyour nerves wouldnât let you. All you could think about was how awkward this was going to be, and how much you wished you could disappear into the floor.
You took a deep breath, closing your eyes briefly as you downed the shot in one go.
The burn of the alcohol hit first, followed by a rush of heat in your chest. When you opened your eyes and turned your head to face whoever had volunteered to hold the lemon, you froze.
Wonwoo didnât expect it to happen so soon, but there you were, standing at the bar with a shot in hand, the challenge in your eyes as you glanced at the person next to you holding a lemon.
And thenâbefore he even realized what he was doingâhe found himself walking over.
You blinked, wondering if the tequila was playing tricks on you. But noâhe was standing right in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The room seemed to fall away, the noise and chaos fading into the background.
The lemon wedge was between his lips, his sharp gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.
Your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest as he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. His touch was warm, steady, grounding you even as your mind spiraled.
Every nerve in your body was on high alert, the proximity making your head spin even more than the alcohol.
The way you looked at him when you saw him standing there, so close, made something stir in his chest. He was used to seeing you in passing, in casual greetings, but never like this.
Never with this... spark in your eyes, the nervous energy swirling between you two as if the whole room had faded into the background.
His hand found its way to your face without him thinking about it. It was like instinct, like he was meant to touch you, to make the moment real, to ground you in the present. He could feel your breath against his lips as he held the lemon between his teeth, his own heartbeat quickening as he leaned in. The closeness was intoxicating, and even though everything around you was chaotic, there was a stillness between you twoâsomething unspoken that hummed in the air.
His lips brushed against yours, and for a split second, the world stopped moving. The taste of tequila, the sharpness of the lemon, it all blurred together, leaving just the feeling of your presence, warm and electric. It was over in an instant, but the memory lingered like an echo in his mind.
When he pulled away, he noticed the slight tremble in your breath, the flush creeping up your cheeks. His fingers lingered on your skin, just for a moment, before he let go and took a step back. He couldnât tell if it was the alcohol or something else that made him act on impulse, but he couldnât bring himself to regret it.
âCareful with those shots,â he said, his voice steady as he turned to leave, wanting to disappear into the crowd before he did something even more foolish.
And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd.
You stood there, your heart racing and your mind spinning, wondering if what had just happened was realâor if it was just another tequila-induced dream.
The morning light is harsh, seeping through the blinds and hitting you like a freight train.
Your head pounds, your mouth is dry, and you feel like your body is made of lead. Every movement feels like a chore, and the only thing you want is to pull the covers over your head and pretend like the world doesn't exist.
But then you remember last night. Bits and pieces of the party flash through your foggy mindâMimi dragging you into the chaos, the shots, the people... and then, the moment with Wonwoo.
You sit up, your stomach flipping at the thought of it.
What had happened? Was it real? Or just a tequila-fueled dream? Your heart sinks into your stomach as the hangover makes itself known in full force. You groan, leaning back against your pillow.
Mimi, ever the morning person, bursts into your room without knocking, as if she doesnât notice the state youâre in.
âMorning!â she says brightly, a little too brightly, given your current condition. Sheâs holding a water bottle and some aspirin in her hand. âHere, drink this. You look like youâve been hit by a truck.â
âThanks,â you mutter, taking the bottle gratefully, but your eyes are still squinting against the harsh light. âMimi... what happened last night? What... what did I do?â
Mimi plops down on the edge of your bed, clearly already recovered from whatever wildness the night had thrown her way. She grins, almost too smugly for your current state.
âLet me think,â she says, tapping her chin like sheâs in deep contemplation. âWell, first you got a little tipsy, then you got a lot tipsy... You were a little shy at first, but after a few shots, you really started to loosen up!â
You wince, already imagining how embarrassing you must have been. âAndâŠ?â
âThen,â she continues, barely able to contain her laughter, âyou and Wonwoo had a moment.â
You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. âWait, what?â
âOh yeah,â Mimi says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. âYou two were definitely the talk of the night. You guys played that game, and then...â She pauses for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying every second of your discomfort. â...Well, letâs just say the lemon wedge wasnât the only thing shared.â
Your brain stumbles over the words as the memory floods back. You and Wonwoo, so close, his hands on your face, the taste of tequila and lemon... And then the kiss, the soft brush of his lips against yours, lingering for just a heartbeat.
You feel your cheeks heat up, even as you cringe internally. âThat wasnât a kiss, was it?â you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
âOh, it definitely was,â Mimi says with a teasing grin, clearly delighted by the reaction sheâs getting from you. âA very brief one, but yeah. It happened.â
You bury your face in your hands, groaning in embarrassment. âOh my god, Iâm going to die.â
âNo, no, no.â Mimi leans in, trying to comfort youâthough her laughter is a little too apparent. âIt wasnât a big deal! You didnât embarrass yourself too badly. Besides, from what I saw, he didnât look like he minded.â
You look up at her, eyes wide. âWhat do you mean? Did he say anything?â
Mimi shrugs, her grin turning a little more thoughtful. âHe didnât say muchâ
Your heart skips a beat. You hadnât even considered that. Did he... stay because he was just being polite? Or was there something else there?
"Did anything else happen after that?" you ask cautiously.
Mimi shakes her head. "No, you two went your separate ways pretty quickly after that. I mean, you were a little tipsy, so I didn't want to push you too much. But trust me, you're not imagining it. Something happened, even if you're too hungover to remember all the details.â
You lean back against the pillows, the weight of her words settling in your chest. Wonwoo. That moment. Had he really felt something too? Or was it just the alcohol making you think there was more to it than there actually was?
"Mimi..." you trail off, unsure how to even phrase your next question. "What do I do now?"
Mimi's expression softens slightly, though she still has that mischievous glint in her eye. "You let it play out. Don't overthink it. If somethingâs meant to happen, it will. If not, then at least you got a pretty wild story to tell."
You nod slowly, still unsure about everything. The hangover isnât making things any easier, and your head feels like itâs full of unanswered questions.
But as you drink the water and swallow the aspirin she handed you, you canât shake the feeling that this could be the beginning of something youâve been waiting for. Even if you donât have all the answers yet.
The next few days felt like an emotional rollercoaster, and you were stuck somewhere near the top, trying to keep your balance.
After last nightâs chaos, you couldnât bring yourself to face Wonwoo. You avoided him like the plague, keeping your distance whenever you saw him around campus. It wasnât because you regretted what happened, but because... well, it felt like you were the only one who cared about it, and that made everything awkward.
Wonwoo didnât say anything, didnât acknowledge you or the kiss. He acted like it was nothing, like it was just some silly game, just like the other shots and the other people. But the longer you avoided him, the more you couldnât shake the feeling that he was aware of itâaware of you. And that only made it worse.
His friends had caught on, too. Vernon had laughed it off, saying it was cute how you were avoiding Wonwoo. Minghao seemed amused. They didnât think much of it, but you couldnât ignore the tension that built up every time you crossed paths with them.
But it wasnât just them noticing. Wonwoo was noticing too. You could feel his eyes on you whenever you went to class or sat in the library. His usual nonchalant demeanor didnât give anything away, but there was something in the way he lingered a little longer, just enough to make you feel seen, even when you wanted to disappear.
Then, one afternoon, when you thought you were finally in the clear, it happened.
You were walking home, head down, lost in your thoughts as the weight of the last few days pressed heavily on your shoulders. You shouldâve stayed in and avoided the outside world. But, no, you were out here, walking alone, hoping the fresh air would clear your head.
And then, you heard the familiar sound of an engine approaching. You looked up just in time to see Wonwooâs car slowing beside you. Your heart skipped, and for a moment, everything inside you screamed to turn around and run. You were already panicking, your steps quickening, but before you could escape, the car came to a stop beside you.
Wonwoo rolled down the window, his expression as unreadable as ever, but his voiceâhis voice was what made you freeze.
âY/N,â he called out, and your pulse quickened. You turn slowly to face him
"Hey, Wonwoo. Uh what's up?" you casually, trying to hide the fact that your face is burning because of him and not the cold winds
"Just got out of class, are you walking home?"
"Yea, on my way home too. Anyways, I better get going. See you... around" you wave goodbye and started to walk again.
You hear the car door open and steps behind you, "Are you avoiding me?" his question makes you stop on your tracks. Turning around to see him leaning against the passenger side of his car
âUh... I... Itâs justââ you stutter, and then you realize you canât lie about it anymore. âItâs because of... the kiss.â
His face doesnât shift, no surprise or confusion. He just looks at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours for a moment too long. And then, as if itâs nothing at all, he shrugs.
âIt wasnât even a kiss, Y/N,â he says coolly, as though itâs no big deal. âIt was just... part of the game. Nothing to worry about.â
The words hit you like a bucket of ice water. Youâre disappointed, though you try not to show it. You wanted something more. You wanted him to acknowledge the tension, the fact that there was something between you two, something real.
But of course, that was just how Wonwoo wasânonchalant, distant, and always acting like everything was just nothing.
You couldnât help the slight sinking feeling in your chest. You forced a smile, but it didnât quite reach your eyes. âRight. Of course,â you mutter, hoping your voice doesnât betray the disappointment you feel.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. You feel awkward, standing there on the sidewalk, his car still idling beside you. But then he speaks again, his tone softening just slightly, though still with that signature aloofness.
âGet in. Iâll drive you home.â he opens the passenger door, waiting for you.
You hesitate. You should just say no, continue walking, put some distance between you. But youâre tired, emotionally drained, and there's something about his voiceâsomething about the way heâs offering that makes it hard to refuse. You sigh, not knowing what to say but not wanting to make things worse. You step toward the car, sliding into the passenger seat without another word.
As he pulls away, the silence in the car is thick, and you canât stop the thoughts that swirl in your head. You want to ask him, want to know if that kiss meant anything to him, or if he really did feel nothing about it.
But thatâs just how Wonwoo was, wasnât it? Always distant, always playing it cool, never letting anyone get too close.
The drive to your place feels like an eternity, but in the back of your mind, you know this silence between you two is only going to build the tension more. You just wish he would break it.
It wasnât easy, but you were getting better at avoiding him. The subtle things you used to do for himâsaving him a seat in the library, offering him drinks or homemade cookiesâhad all stopped. You still couldnât bring yourself to fully confront your feelings for him, and honestly, it felt like the only way to protect yourself was to distance yourself from him as much as possible.
You told yourself it was for the best. You told yourself that the space you were creating would help you get over him. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time passed, you couldnât shake the feeling that he was always watching, always noticing.
And, of course, he noticed. Wonwoo wasnât the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he was observant, maybe more so than he let on. He noticed that you stopped going out of your way to be kind to him. He noticed the absence of the small, thoughtful gestures you used to offer. At first, he didnât say anything, uncertain of what was going on, or whether he even had the right to ask you about it.
But eventually, he couldnât take the silence anymore.
It was late in the afternoon when you were walking alone on campus, heading toward the library to meet up with Mimi. The cool breeze made your hair dance around your face, and the noise of the campus life seemed distant, as if you were in your own little bubble.
As you passed by the gym, you saw him. Wonwoo. He had just finished his workout, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, his T-shirt sticking to his body in that way it always did after a session. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, but you quickly turned your attention elsewhere, pretending you hadnât seen him.
But he saw you. Of course, he did.
âY/N,â Wonwoo called out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise, his footsteps quickening to match yours. You tried not to flinch as you heard him approaching, but your pulse was racing.
You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him, hoping your expression didnât betray the nervousness bubbling up inside you. âWonwoo?â you said, keeping your voice steady even though it felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest.
He stopped in front of you, looking at you for a beat too long, like he was sizing you up. The look on his face was unreadable, but you could see the confusion in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed slightly as he took you in.
"Why did you stop?" he asked, and for a moment, you werenât sure if you heard him correctly.
"Stop?" You repeated, confused by his question. What was he even talking about?
"Yeah," he continued, his voice casual, but there was something different in it now. Something that made you feel like you were under a microscope. "You stopped... saving me seats, or bringing me stuff. You used to do that all the time."
You didnât know how to respond. A part of you wanted to lie, to say it was no big deal, that you were just too busy or distracted with school, but something in his eyes made you hesitate. The truth, the real reason you were avoiding him, was too complicated. You couldnât say it outright.
âI just⊠I guess Iâve been busy,â you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. âThings just⊠changed, I guess.â
Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, as though trying to understand, but he didnât push. There was no challenge in his voice, no annoyance. It was just curiosity, genuine and unassuming.
"Okay," he said after a beat, his eyes still locked on you. âI just thought you were mad at me or something.â
You felt a pang of guilt at his words, but you brushed it aside. âIâm not mad, Wonwoo. Iâm just... I donât know." You shook your head, unsure of how to explain your feelings without making things even more awkward. âI guess I just needed space.â
There was a pause, and then, for the first time in a while, he looked almost... vulnerable. "Space? For what?"
You swallowed hard, your throat dry. You could hear the underlying question in his voice, even if he wasnât asking it directly. Why had you pulled away from him? Why had you stopped the small things that used to come so naturally?
Before you could say anything else, Wonwoo let out a small sigh, and though his expression was still unreadable, there was something softer in his tone. âAlright. I just wanted to know.â
Without waiting for you to respond, he turned to leave, his steps slow but purposeful. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him walk away, the weight of his question lingering in the air between you.
You couldnât help but feel a sense of disappointment, though you werenât sure what exactly you were disappointed in. Was it because he hadnât pushed you to explain? Or was it because, deep down, you were still waiting for him to say something, anything, to make you feel like your feelings werenât so one-sided after all?
But that was just how Wonwoo was, wasnât it? Detached, distant, and never quite giving you the answers you needed.
And yet, even as you watched him disappear into the distance, a part of you couldnât help but wonderâmaybe he did want to know.
The cool breeze of the evening felt nice against your skin as you walked through the quiet neighborhood, sipping on your banana milk. The streets were relatively empty, the soft hum of the evening a welcome relief after a busy week. You didnât have a particular destination in mindâjust wanted to clear your head and enjoy the peace for a while.
As you walked past the familiar basketball court, you spotted a figure out of the corner of your eye. At first, you didnât think much of it, but then the silhouette registered in your mind. It was Wonwoo.
You stopped in your tracks, unsure whether to approach him or just keep walking. He didnât seem to notice you at first, too focused on dribbling the ball and taking shots at the hoop. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the court, and for a moment, you found yourself just watching him. There was something about his movements that seemed different, something tight in the way he playedâlike he was working through something that was bothering him.
Maybe it was the way his jaw was clenched or the way his shoulders were hunched. He looked almost frustrated, the usual nonchalance replaced by something more intense. You stood there, quietly sipping your drink, lost in thought as you watched him.
You were so absorbed in the moment that you didnât see the ball coming toward you. It hit you squarely on the head before you could react.
"Ouch!" you exclaimed, wincing as you staggered back a step.
Wonwooâs head snapped toward you immediately, his eyes wide with concern. He jogged over, his long legs covering the distance quickly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with worry. He stood in front of you, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of injury.
You rubbed your head, trying to play it off as no big deal. âYeah, Iâm fine. Just wasnât paying attention,â you muttered, but you could tell by the way Wonwoo was looking at you that he wasnât convinced.
âAre you sure?â He reached up to gently touch the spot where the ball had hit you, his fingers lightly brushing the area. His touch was surprisingly soft, and you couldnât help but feel a flutter in your chest despite the situation.
âReally, Iâm fine,â you said quickly, pulling back slightly. The last thing you needed was to be caught up in another one of these awkward moments with him.
But before you could brush it off entirely, something in you gave way. The distance youâd been trying to maintain, the walls youâd carefully built to protect yourselfâsuddenly, it felt so fragile. Maybe it was the way Wonwoo was looking at you so intently, or maybe it was the fact that it had been days since you last spoke. Whatever it was, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.
"I just thought I was being too much," you murmured, your gaze dropping to the ground. "And itâs not like you liked it."
Wonwoo froze, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words.
The air between you seemed to thicken, the awkwardness of the situation now mixed with something more vulnerable. You could feel your heart beating faster, the confession hanging in the air like a weight.
You regretted saying it the moment it left your lips, but it felt like the truthâno matter how painful it was. You didnât want to keep putting yourself out there, offering him small gestures and favors if he wasnât interested in them, or in you.
For a long moment, Wonwoo didnât say anything. His gaze softened, and he seemed to be carefully considering his next words. It wasnât the detached, nonchalant Wonwoo you were used to.
This time, he seemed almost... human.
"Youâre not being too much," he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual coldness. He met your eyes, and for the first time in a while, you saw something different in his gazeâsomething that wasnât easy to define. "And I didnât think it was annoying or anything."
You werenât sure if you believed him, but the sincerity in his voice made you hesitate. Was he really saying that? Did he mean it?
âI thought you wouldnât want me to keep doing those things for you if you didnât care.â
Wonwooâs expression softened even more, and he let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that was far more human than the usual composed Wonwoo you knew.
âYouâre not being too much, and I guess I see why you think I didn't care. I never said I didn'tâ he says, this time with more conviction. âI justâŠâ He trailed off, like he was searching for the right words. âI just didnât know what to make of it. You were doing all these things, and I didnât know how to react.â
There it was. The reason for his distance. The reason for his coldness. He hadnât known how to handle your kindness. He hadnât known what to do with the way you made him feel, and so he had kept his distance, just as you had.
âIâm sorry,â he added after a beat, looking slightly embarrassed, as though the admission was a little difficult for him.
You didnât know what to say, your mind swirling with a mix of emotions. Had you really been wrong all along? Had he cared, but just not known how to show it?
You were so taken aback by his answer that your mind couldn't keep up. The words he had said, so simple, yet so unexpected, rattled your thoughts. I never said I didnât care. Had you misread everything? Had all your attempts to keep your distance been for nothing?
"But then the kiss..."
"That was me being stupid, I should've apologized for invading your space like that and you look really bothered by it. I was being dumb"
"Well you did say it was just a game" you mumble
"Like I said, I was being dumb and I apologize" he shoots you a quick apologetic smile
Before you could process anything more, your face heated up with embarrassment. You felt suddenly shy, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe.
âIââ you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt a nervous energy surge through you, a mix of confusion and the rush of emotions you were trying to keep hidden.
âIâm fine, really.â You managed to give him a small, flustered smile, hoping it would make him stop worrying about you.
But Wonwoo wasnât convinced. He stepped a little closer, eyes scanning you with concern. âYou donât seem fine,â he said, his brow furrowing as he looked you over. âYou sure youâre not concussed or something? You hit your head pretty hard.â
Your heart raced at the proximity, and you could feel the overwhelming urge to escape before you made a bigger fool of yourself. He was too close.
âNo, really, Iâm fine,â you said quickly, the words coming out in a rush as you took a step back. You were panicking, trying to make sense of everything, but all you wanted in that moment was to get away from him. To breathe. To process what had just happened.
Before you knew it, your feet were already moving, backing away from him at a faster pace. You didnât even think about itâyour body just reacted, the instinct to escape taking over.
âY/N?â Wonwoo called after you, his voice filled with concern, but you couldnât stop. You couldnât deal with this right now. Not with him standing there, looking so sincere and worried, when you were still trying to understand everything that had just happened.
âIâm sorry, I really have to go!â you shouted over your shoulder, not daring to look back.
You could hear him calling your name again, but you didnât stop. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you turned down the nearby street, running as fast as you could without looking back.
You kept running, trying to outrun the mess of emotions that swirled inside you. The awkwardness, the guilt, the confusionâit was all too much. And you couldnât deal with it now.
As you finally slowed down, your breath coming in heavy gasps, you leaned against a nearby wall, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your heartbeat. Youâd never done anything like that beforeâjust ran away from a conversation like it was nothing. But in that moment, it felt like the only thing you could do.
What had just happened? Why did his words make you feel like everything inside you was unraveling?
You were doing wellâat least, you thought you were.
For the past few days, you had managed to avoid any direct interaction with Wonwoo. You kept your distance, keeping your head down whenever he was around, avoiding his gaze, and hiding whenever you could. It was easier that way. You convinced yourself it was better this way.
But then, on this particular day, as you were gathering your things at the end of class, preparing to leave, you felt a tug on the hood of your jacket. You froze, instinctively jerking away from the sudden contact.
"Y/N," a calm voice spoke, and you looked up to find Wonwoo standing there, looking down at you with a slightly amused, yet nonchalant expression. He didnât seem angry, just... observing.
You felt your heart skip a beat, and before you could stop yourself, your cheeks began to heat up. His gaze was steady, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as if he was asking you, Are you really doing this?
You didnât know how to respond. Every part of you wanted to turn away and just leave before things got any worse, but your feet felt rooted to the spot.
âI... I wasnât... trying to hide,â you stammered, but your voice came out weaker than youâd intended.
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, not saying anything at first. He didnât need to. His gaze alone spoke volumes. He was just waiting for you to admit what was going on.
You shifted uncomfortably, biting your lower lip as you awkwardly tried to avoid his gaze. âI... didnât know how to talk to you,â you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. âItâs been... confusing. And I thought... maybe it was better to just keep my distance.â
Wonwoo didnât seem angry. In fact, the amused look on his face lingered, but there was something else there, something softer that you werenât used to seeing from him. âYouâve been avoiding me for days now,â he said in that same calm tone, his voice unbothered. âBut running away wonât make this go away, you know.â
You winced at his words, feeling the weight of them more than you wanted to admit. But you couldnât deny that he was right. It wasnât going to disappear just because you ran away from it.
âI... I donât know what to say to you,â you confessed, feeling all your anxiety bubbling up again. âI donât want to make things awkward. I just...â
âJust what?â Wonwoo asked, his expression unreadable now, his voice still quiet but insistent. âYou think I wonât understand?â
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. âI donât know if you will,â you murmured, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside you. âI thought maybe... maybe it was easier to just pretend it didnât matter.â
Wonwoo studied you for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. âYou think it doesnât matter?â he asked, his voice low, almost thoughtful. âYouâre the one whoâs been giving me things, doing things for me. It matters.â
You felt your heart beat faster, unsure of how to handle this newfound vulnerability in his voice. It was unlike him, and it was making everything even more complicated.
âI didnât want to make you uncomfortable,â you said quietly, your hands still fidgeting with the sleeves of your jacket. âI thought... maybe I was just being annoying.â
Wonwoo let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as if he couldnât quite believe what he was hearing. âY/N... you werenât being annoying. I just didnât know how to respond to you, okay?â His voice softened further, a hint of frustration in it now, but not at youâat himself, maybe. "I didn't know what you wanted from me."
You stared at him, unsure what to say. His words were hitting you in a way you hadnât expected, and the confusion that had been gnawing at you for so long started to ebb, replaced by a different kind of uncertainty.
âWhy didnât you just tell me that?â you asked, your voice trembling slightly.
He looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed by his own admission, but then his gaze returned to yours. âI didnât know how to. Itâs easier for me to just... not talk about these things." He paused, then gave you a small, almost hesitant smile. "But Iâm trying, okay?â
The sincerity in his words made your chest ache, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, but at the same time, it was replaced by something newâsomething you werenât sure you were ready for.
âSo... what now?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid of the answer.
Wonwoo stepped closer, a subtle movement that somehow felt like the most intimate thing. His expression was still calm, but there was a softness in it now that made your heart race. âNow, we talk. No more running away.â
You didnât know what that would mean for you, for him, for whatever this was between you. But right now, it felt like you might finally be able to stop avoiding the truth.
You find yourself sitting across him at a diner outside campus. The booth was cozy, the dim lighting giving the place a warm, inviting atmosphere. But despite the warmth of the surroundings, you felt cold. The walls youâd carefully built around yourself seemed to be crumbling, and the closer you got to Wonwoo, the more vulnerable you felt.
You hadnât said much since youâd arrived, your gaze bouncing around the diner, avoiding his eyes whenever they found yours.
Wonwoo, however, was watching you with quiet amusement, his gaze flickering between you and the menu in his hands. He could tell you were uncomfortable, restlessly fiddling with your hands, your eyes constantly darting away whenever he caught you looking at him.
"Hey," he finally said, his voice calm but carrying a teasing edge. "You seem a little... tense."
You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, but before you could say anything, you noticed your own body languageâa slight fidget, your shoulders stiff, your legs crossed tightly. You shifted in your seat, trying to make yourself comfortable, but it wasnât working. You couldnât shake the feeling of his gaze on you.
âI... I just donât like sitting across from people,â you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze still averted. âItâs too much pressure, I guess.â
Wonwoo didnât hesitate. Without saying a word, he slid out of the booth, shifting to the side next to you. The movement was casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and in that moment, you couldnât help but feel a little lighter. He wasnât judging you for your discomfort. Instead, he was meeting you halfway, making you feel... seen.
He settled beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned back against the booth, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. He was so close now, and you felt a sudden rush of warmth flood your chest. Your heart skipped a beat, but this time, it wasnât from nerves. It was from the unexpected comfort of his presence.
âBetter?â he asked, his voice low and surprisingly gentle, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of unease.
You nodded, but this time, you didnât shy away from meeting his gaze. The proximity made everything feel a little more real, a little more grounded. And, for the first time in what felt like forever, you didnât feel the need to run away.
âYeah,â you murmured, still a little flustered, but this time, the smile on your lips was more genuine, more relaxed. âThis feels better.â
Wonwoo smirked, clearly pleased with your response, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. âGood,â he said, his voice quieter now. âI donât want you feeling uncomfortable around me.â
âSoâŠâ You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to navigate this new dynamic between you. âWhat now?â
Wonwooâs gaze softened, and he shrugged casually, though his eyes held a certain sincerity. âNow, we eat, and we talk. You donât have to worry about running away anymore.â He paused, then added with a small smile, âAnd no more avoiding me, okay?â
You couldnât help but smile, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. This wasnât going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start figuring things outâwith him, and with yourself.
You nodded slowly, the silence between you wasnât exactly awkward, but it wasnât easy, either. It felt like there were a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air, and neither of you knew how to address them.
Then, Wonwoo spoke, his voice calm and steady. âWhatâs your go-to drink order?â
You blinked, startled by the question. Out of all the things he couldâve asked, that wasnât what you expected. âUhâŠâ You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back down at your hands. âProbably... iced vanilla latte. Or banana milk,â you added with a nervous laugh, gesturing to the nearly empty carton in front of you, you pulled it out of your bag a few minutes ago.
Wonwoo nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. âI figured you liked banana milk. I see you drinking it a lot.â
Your cheeks heated up at his observation, and you ducked your head, suddenly very aware of how closely he paid attention to you. âYeah, itâs kind of a comfort drink,â you admitted softly. âWhat about you?â
âAmericano,â he replied easily. âNo sugar.â
You scrunched your nose at that, and Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle at your reaction. âWhat?â he teased. âNot a fan of bitter drinks?â
âNot really,â you admitted, daring a quick glance at him before looking away again. âI like sweet things.â
Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving you. âWhatâs your favorite dessert?â
You bit your lip, trying to think. The way he was watching you so intently made your brain feel foggy, and it was hard to focus. âProbably... cheesecake,â you finally said. âStrawberry cheesecake.â
He hummed thoughtfully, as if filing that piece of information away. âStrawberry cheesecake,â he repeated, his voice soft. âNoted.â
âWhy are you asking me this?â you blurted out before you could stop yourself.
Wonwoo shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. âJust trying to get to know you better.â
That answer caught you off guard. You looked down at your lap, your hands twisting nervously. âBut... why?â
He didnât answer right away, and when you finally gathered the courage to look up at him, you found him watching you with a softness in his eyes that made your heart ache. âBecause I want to,â he said simply, his voice quiet but certain.
Your breath caught in your throat, and you quickly looked away again, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
Wonwoo didnât push you to say anything else. He let the silence settle again, but it didnât feel as heavy this time. It felt... different. Like he was giving you space to process, to breathe.
And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe he wasnât as far out of reach as youâd always thought.
It's suppose to be another normal day. You're in class, sitting next to MImi still feeling sleepy but then something slides infront of you.
You stared at the banana milk on your desk like it had suddenly sprouted wings. Slowly, you turned back to look at Wonwoo, who was casually flipping through his notebook like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Mimi, sitting to your right, nudged your arm, her expression a mix of confusion and barely-contained glee. âWhatâs going on?â she whispered, her eyes darting between you and Wonwoo like she was trying to piece together a crime scene.
âI have no idea,â you whispered back
You leaned slightly toward Wonwoo, lowering your voice as much as possible. âWhat are you doing?â
âAttending class,â he replied, not even looking up from his notebook. His tone was so calm, so casual, that for a moment you thought youâd imagined him moving seats altogether.
âHere?â you pressed, glancing over your shoulder again to see his friends Vernon and Minghao, who were both watching the two of you with poorly hidden smirks. Minghao even gave you a small wave, which only made you more flustered.
Wonwoo finally looked at you, his expression as neutral as ever. âWhy not?â
Before you could respond, he nudged the banana milk closer to you. âYou like this, right?â
You blinked down at the carton, your brain short-circuiting. âI... yeah, butââ
âThen drink it.â His tone was soft but firm, leaving no room for argument.
Beside you, Mimiâs jaw was practically on the floor. âOkay, what is going on here?â she hissed under her breath, leaning closer to you. âDid you bribe him? Threaten him? Sell your soul to some matchmaking demon?â
âI donât know!â you whispered back, your voice frantic as you stared at the banana milk like it held all the answers to lifeâs mysteries.
Wonwoo, clearly aware of the hushed conversation happening beside him, leaned back in his chair and glanced at Mimi. âIs something wrong?â he asked, his calm demeanor never faltering.
Mimi froze, her eyes wide as she realized he was addressing her directly. âUh, no? Nothingâs wrong,â she stammered, clearly trying to play it cool. âJust... curious, thatâs all.â
Wonwoo nodded, satisfied with her answer, and turned his attention back to his notebook, leaving you and Mimi to exchange bewildered looks.
The rest of the class passed in a blur. You were hyper-aware of Wonwooâs presence beside you, the subtle sound of him turning pages, the occasional shift in his seat, even the faint scent of his cologne. You couldnât focus on the lecture to save your life, and every time you caught Mimi looking at you, she wiggled her eyebrows in a way that made you want to crawl under the desk.
When the class finally ended, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape before your brain completely melted. But as you stood up, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
âWalk with me,â he said, his tone more of a statement than a question.
You glanced at Mimi, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes and a grin that was far too smug for your liking. âGo ahead,â she said, waving you off. âIâll meet you later.â
Before you could argue, Wonwoo gently tugged your wrist, guiding you toward the door. You followed him, your heart racing as you wondered what on earth he was up to now.
You were half jogging to keep up with Wonwooâs long strides, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the campus. It wasnât like he was walking that fastâit was just that his legs were ridiculously long compared to yours.
Your steps were hurried, almost clumsy, as you tried to keep up. âWonwoo,â you huffed, glancing at his back, âcan you slow down? Not all of us have tree trunks for legs, you know.â
He glanced back at you, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. âWeâll be late if I slow down,â he said simply, but his pace did ease up slightly.
It was almost cuteâtoo cute, honestly. The height difference, the way you had to trudge along behind him like a kid trying to keep up. And then there was him: calm, composed, and acting like dragging you to your next class was just a normal, everyday occurrence.
By the time you reached the door of your classroom, you were slightly out of breath. Wonwoo, of course, looked as unbothered as ever. He gently let go of your wrist and gestured for you to go in.
âGo,â he said, his tone soft but firm.
You blinked up at him, confused. âWait, where are you going?â
âTo my class,â he replied, as though it was obvious.
You frowned, gesturing vaguely in the direction you had just come from. âYour class isnât here?â
âNope,â he said, already turning on his heel to walk away. âItâs on the other side of campus.â
You stared at him, your jaw dropping. âThe opposite side?â
He paused, glancing over his shoulder to meet your incredulous gaze. âYeah,â he said nonchalantly.
âThen why did youââ You cut yourself off, not even sure how to finish the sentence.
Wonwoo just shrugged, his expression unreadable. âFelt like walking you,â he said simply, as though it was no big deal.
And then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing at the door of your classroom, completely flustered and at a loss for words.
What is he doing to me? you thought, burying your face in your hands. Whatever game Wonwoo was playing, it was definitely working.
This new routine had become so normal that you almost stopped questioning itânot that you were any less flustered every time Wonwoo waited for you after class or walked you across campus. It was just easier to let it happen, even if your heart constantly felt like it was doing somersaults. Mimi teased you endlessly about it, of course, but youâd stopped trying to defend yourself. What could you even say?
One afternoon, just as class was ending, Wonwoo approached you while you were packing up your things. You were expecting him to grab his bag and lead you out of the room like usual, but instead, he hesitated.
âI have something to do after class today,â he said, his voice soft yet direct, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. âI canât drive you home.â
You blinked up at him, surprised. âOh, thatâs okay. I can justââ
âWait,â he interrupted, giving you a look that made you freeze. âAre you going to walk home alone?â
You faltered, unsure how to answer. âI mean, itâs not that far...â
He frowned at that, clearly not liking your response. âI donât like the idea of you walking home alone.â
Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you quickly brushed it off, waving your hand dismissively. âItâs really fine, Wonwoo. Iâve walked home alone before.â
âNot anymore,â he said firmly, pulling out his phone.
You raised an eyebrow as he started dialing, wondering what on earth he was doing. âWhat are youââ
âHey,â he said into the phone, cutting you off. âWhere are you right now? Can you drive someone home for me?â
You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he really calling someone just to make sure you didnât walk home alone?
A few moments later, he hung up and turned back to you. âVernon and Minghao are nearby. Theyâll drive you home.â
âWait, what?â you asked, your voice rising slightly in disbelief. âWonwoo, you donât have toââ
âI already did,â he said simply, grabbing his bag. âTheyâll meet you outside in five minutes. Just wait for them, okay?â
You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you stopped you in your tracks. It wasnât stern, exactly, but it was... serious. Protective. Like he genuinely wouldnât forgive himself if something happened to you.
You sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing. âFine,â you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
He softened at that, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. âGood. Iâll text you later.â
And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind reeling.
When you made your way outside, Vernon and Minghao were waiting by Vernonâs car, both of them looking far too amused for your liking.
âSo,â Vernon said, leaning casually against the hood of the car, âyouâre the one Wonwooâs been babying lately.â
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. âCan we not talk about this?â
Minghao chuckled, opening the passenger door for you. âDonât worry, we wonât tease you too much. Wonwooâs been... different lately, though. Itâs kind of interesting to watch.â
âDifferent how?â you asked, sliding into the car and buckling your seatbelt.
Vernon smirked as he started the engine. âLetâs just say you bring out a side of him we didnât know existed.â
You couldnât decide if that made you feel flattered or even more flustered. Either way, as they drove you home, you couldnât stop thinking about the lengths Wonwoo had gone to just to make sure you were safe. And even though it was embarrassing, a small, shy smile found its way to your lips.
Later that night, just as you were about to settle into bed, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You blinked at the screen, momentarily stunned when you saw the name.
Wonwoo.
Your heart immediately started racing. He had texted you before, sure, but calling? This was new. Hesitantly, you picked up, bringing the phone to your ear.
âHello?â
âHey.â His voice was deep and smooth, laced with a certain warmth that made you grip your phone a little tighter. âDid you get home okay?â
You felt your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself. âYeah, Vernon and Minghao dropped me off. You really didnât have to go that far, you know.â
âI did,â he said simply. âI told you, I donât like you walking alone.â
There was something about the way he said itâcalm, steady, certainâthat made your chest feel warm. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the giddy feeling bubbling inside you.
Instead, you changed the subject. âHow was your thing after class? You never said what it was.â
âJust something for a group project,â he answered. âIt took longer than I expected.â
You hummed in understanding. âThat sucks.â
He let out a quiet chuckle. âYeah. Anyway, how was your day?â
At that, you perked up, launching into a detailed retelling of everything that had happened since class. You told him about Mimiâs latest antics, how she nearly got into an argument with a professor because she was convinced she turned in her assignment when she actually hadnât. You talked about how Vernon and Minghao teased you the whole car ride home, about the new cafĂ© you wanted to try, and even the silly little things that made you laugh that day.
Somewhere along the way, you noticed he had gone quiet.
âWonwoo?â you called, suddenly feeling self-conscious. âAre you still there?â
There was a pause, then his voice came through the speakerâsoft, almost gentle.
âGo on, Iâm listening.â
Your breath caught in your throat.
There was something different about the way he said it. He wasnât just saying it to fill the silence. He meant it. He liked listening to you.
You felt heat rush to your cheeks, but you pushed forward, finishing your story despite how shy you suddenly felt.
When you finally ran out of things to say, he let out a contented hum. âYou should get some rest,â he murmured. âIâll see you tomorrow.â
Your heart melted at how soft his voice was. âOkay,â you said quietly.
âGoodnight,â he added, and you swore you could hear the smallest smile in his voice.
âGoodnight, Wonwoo.â
The call ended, and for a moment, you just sat there, staring at your phone. Then, all at once, the emotions hit you like a tidal wave.
You let out a loud groan, grabbed your pillow, and screamed into it.
âWhat are you doing to me, Jeon Wonwoo?!â
Your pillow, of course, had no answers. But one thing was clearâyou were so doomed.
It's a few weeks later, you're at the cafe you frequently hang out when you have free time. The usual, you're on your yapping mode while Wonwoo listens. But then you said something you didn't mean to tell him.
The moment the words left your mouth, you froze.
You hadnât meant to say it out loud. It was just one of those things you only ever admitted to Mimiâhow you were so confused about what was going on between you and Wonwoo.
But now, you had just said it. Right in front of him.
Your heart stopped.
Slowly, hesitantly, you turned to look at him.
Wonwoo was already staring at you, that small, amused smile still lingering on his lipsâbut his eyes held something else. Something unreadable.
For the first time, he didnât respond immediately. He didnât tease you, didnât brush it off. He just watched you, as if he was carefully thinking about what to say.
You scrambled to fix it. âI-I meanââ you let out a nervous laugh, waving your hands. âForget I said that! It was just, um, something stupid I told Mimiââ
Wonwoo tilted his head, his gaze still locked on you. âYouâre confused?â he asked, his voice calm.
You swallowed. âI mean... yeah?â
Silence.
The tension was unbearable. Your heart was practically screaming in your chest.
Finally, he leaned back, eyes flickering to the coffee in front of him. Then, after a long pause, he spoke again.
âWhat do you want us to be?â
Your breath hitched.
You stared at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. Your mind raced, completely unprepared for the question.
âIââ you fumbled, gripping the edge of your sleeves. âI donât know...â
Another pause. Then, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. âLiar.â
Your head snapped up. âExcuse me?!â
Wonwoo met your gaze again, eyes knowing, almost too knowing. He didnât look mad. If anything, he looked fondâlike he had already figured out the answer before you even realized it yourself.
Your face burned. âIâm not lyingââ
âYouâve liked me for a long time.â His voice was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it left you speechless.
Your entire body tensed.
Oh my god.
He knew.
Of course, he knew.
Everyone knew. You knew he knew. But hearing him say it so bluntly, with no hesitationâit made your stomach flip.
You wanted to disappear.
âIââ You swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him. âOkay, so maybe thatâs true, butââ
âBut?â He was still watching you, waiting.
âBut I donât know what you want.â The words came out smaller than you intended, but they were honest. âYou... youâre always around now, Wonwoo. You drive me home, you wait for me after class, you listen to me ramble all the time. I justââ You bit your lip. âI donât know what that means to you.â
Another silence.
Wonwoo didnât answer right away.
Instead, he reached for his coffee, taking a slow sip. Then, with the same infuriatingly calm expression, he set it back down, resting his chin against his palm as he gazed at you.
And thenâ
âIsnât it obvious?â
Your breath caught in your throat.
Your hands clenched under the table, heart pounding in your ears. You knew what he was implying, you felt what he was saying without words, but you still couldnât believe it.
And Wonwooâknowing you so wellâcould see that.
So, he leaned in slightly, his voice quieter this time.
âI wouldnât do all of this if you werenât special to me.â
Your brain short-circuited.
You felt like your heart had stopped entirely, like you had forgotten how to breathe.
Jeon Wonwooâwho had spent years acting nonchalant toward youâwas now sitting here, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
You didnât know what to say.
So, naturally, you panicked.
âIâumâI need to go to the bathroom!â you blurted out, shoving your chair back as you stood up abruptly.
Wonwoo blinked, a bit startled, before letting out a soft chuckle. âYouâre running away?â
âI am not running away!â
âYouâre literally running away.â
âI need to pee!â you lied, voice high-pitched as you quickly turned toward the restroom.
Behind you, you heard Wonwoo laughâactually laughâbefore calling out, âIâll be here when you get back.â
You groaned, covering your face as you rushed away.
This was too much.
Jeon Wonwoo was too much.
When you finally gathered the courage to come back, your heart was still hammering in your chest. You had taken extra minutes in the restroom just to stare at yourself in the mirror, mentally screaming and trying to convince yourself to act normal.
Exceptâhow could you act normal after what just happened?
You cautiously made your way back to the booth, and there he wasâWonwoo, sitting comfortably with one arm draped over the back of the seat, sipping his drink as if he hadn't just dropped that bomb on you.
And then, when he noticed you, his lips curled into that teasing smile.
âYou good?â he asked, his voice laced with amusement. âTook you a while.â
Your face heated.
âI had toâum, you knowâactually pee.â You sat down stiffly, eyes fixed on the table.
âUh-huh.â He didnât look convinced at all.
You fidgeted, not knowing what to say. Now that you knew he felt something for you, you had no idea how to act around him. You werenât prepared for this. You had spent so long assuming your feelings were one-sided that the moment he admitted otherwise, your brain completely shut down.
And Wonwooâof courseânoticed.
He watched you with that quiet amusement, letting the silence stretch between you. Then, after a beat, he spoke again.
âAre you still confused?â
Your breath caught.
You looked up at himâfinally meeting his gazeâand you regretted it immediately because he was already staring at you.
His dark eyes, calm and steady, held a kind of certainty that made your stomach flip.
âIââ You swallowed. âI donât know.â
Wonwoo hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly. âI see.â
You thought that would be the end of it, that he would back off and give you time to processâbut no.
Instead, he leaned in.
Not dramatically, not forcefully. Just enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence, enough that your breath hitched and your hands curled into fists in your lap.
Then, in a voice so quiet that it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered,
âThen tell meâŠâ
His eyes flickered to your lips before locking back onto yours.
âWhat do you want me to be?â
Your brain short-circuited.
Your body went completely still.
The weight of the questionâthe meaning behind itâhit you all at once, and suddenly, everything felt too real.
Wonwoo was still watching you, waiting, his face unfairly close to yours. He wasnât teasing anymore. He wasnât joking. He was giving you the choiceâasking you to decide what this was between you.
And youâŠ
You had no idea how to answer.
Because for the first time everâ
You realized that your silly little crush wasnât so one-sided after all.
Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you were sure he could hear it.
What did you want him to be?
For so long, you had thought the answer was simpleâyou wanted him, you always had. But now that he was actually asking you, the words caught in your throat.
You were frozen, caught between the overwhelming weight of your long-time feelings and the terrifying reality of facing them head-on.
Wonwoo didnât move. He was still leaning close, his dark eyes fixed on yours, waiting patiently. He wasnât rushing you, wasnât pushing you to answer, but that only made it worse.
You wanted to say something, anything, but all that came out was a small, breathless,
âIââ
And then you panicked.
Your body moved before your brain could catch upâyou quickly grabbed your drink and took the biggest gulp imaginable, as if that would somehow wash away the moment.
It didnât.
Instead, Wonwoo let out a quiet chuckle, finally leaning back, giving you space.
âYouâre cute when you panic.â
You almost choked.
âIâm not panicking,â you sputtered, setting your drink down with a little too much force.
His lips twitched, clearly not believing you. âSo, whatâs your answer?â
âIââ You exhaled, gripping the hem of your shirt. âThis is a lot, okay? You justâyou never made it seem like you liked me before, and now youâreââ You gestured vaguely at him. ââdoing all this and itâs messing with my brain.â
Wonwoo tilted his head, looking at you with quiet curiosity. âI never made it seem like I liked you?â
You gave him a look.
He hummed, gaze flickering downward for a split second before meeting your eyes again. âThatâs not true.â
Your brows furrowed. âWhat?â
âI just⊠donât show it the way you do.â He said it so casually, so matter-of-fact, as if it was something you shouldâve known all along.
You stared at him, your brain struggling to process his words.
And then, as if to prove his point, Wonwoo reached outâhis fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment before he grabbed your wrist, gently pulling your hand closer to him.
Your breath hitched.
âDo you really think I wouldâve let just anyone take care of me the way you did?â His voice was lower now, softer, as his thumb absentmindedly traced slow circles against the back of your hand. âI noticed, you know. Every time you saved me a seat, every time you gave me something without expecting anything in return.â
You swallowed thickly.
Wonwoo glanced down at your intertwined hands, as if realizing he was still holding you. But instead of letting go, he gave your fingers a small, almost hesitant squeeze.
âI didnât ignore it because I didnât care,â he admitted. âI just⊠didnât know how to respond.â
The confession made something in your chest tighten.
Wonwoo had always been unreadable to youâhis quiet, nonchalant demeanor making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. But now, sitting here with him, listening to him actually talk about his feelings, you realized that he wasnât cold at all. He was just careful.
He let out a quiet sigh. âBut when you stoppedâŠâ His grip on your hand tightened slightly. âI didnât like that.â
You blinked. âYou didnât?â
He shook his head. âNo.â
It was such a simple response, yet it made your heart race all over again.
There was a small beat of silence before he spoke again, quieter this time.
âI missed you.â
Your chest ached.
All this time, you had thought your feelings were a burden to himâthat he barely noticed you, let alone missed you. But here he was, telling you otherwise, proving you wrong in the gentlest way possible.
Your fingers curled around his, gripping back.
ââŠI missed you too.â
Wonwoo smiled, the kind of small, rare smile that made your stomach flip.
âSo,â he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, âare you still confused?â
You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck. ââŠMaybe.â
He chuckled. âThen should I make it clearer?â
You sucked in a breath when he leaned in again, just close enough that you could see the soft curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes.
His gaze flickered to your mouth, then back to your eyes.
âWhat do you want me to be?â he asked again, voice barely above a whisper.
"Do I have to answer now?"
Wonwoo just smiled at your question. That soft, knowing kind of smile that made your stomach do flips.
âTake your time,â he said simply, "You waited for me, without expecting anything. It's my turn now" he tells you.
You could barely meet his eyes, your fingers twitching against his. âI justâthis is a lot, okay?â
âI know.â His thumb brushed over your knuckles in a soothing motion. âThatâs why Iâm letting you decide.â
That didnât help at all.
You groaned internally, dropping your forehead onto the table in defeat. âYouâre making this so much worse, Jeon Wonwoo.â
He chuckled, and you could feel his amusement. âAm I?â
âYes.â
âYouâre the one blushing like crazy.â
âShut up.â
He laughed again, and you hated how much you loved the sound.
After a moment, you hesitantly lifted your head, still unable to look at him directly. ââŠSo, youâre not gonna, like, be weird about this?â
âNope.â
âYouâre not gonna pressure me?â
âNo.â
âYouâre just gonna⊠wait?â
Wonwoo leaned back against the booth, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours. âAs long as you need me to, as long as you want me hereâ
Your breath hitched.
Oh.
You bit your lip, feeling your heart squeeze at his words.
ââŠOkay,â you mumbled.
âOkay?â
You nodded shyly, finallyâfinallyâglancing up at him. âIâll think about it.â
His lips twitched, amused. âGood.â
And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, Wonwoo lifted your hand to his lips and pressed the lightest, softest kiss against your knuckles.
Your brain completely shut down.
âYouââ You squeaked, yanking your hand back as if you had just been electrocuted.
Wonwoo just smirked.
âTake your time,â he repeated, looking way too satisfied with himself. âIâll wait.â
And you knewâyou knewâthat no matter how much you tried to think about it, your heart had already decided.
#fic#au#fluff#svt#seventeen#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario#seventeen fluff#svt imagine#seventeen wonwoo#wonwoo#jeon wonwoo#svt fluff#svt slowburn#svt x readers#wonwoo imagine#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo scenario#wonwoo x reader
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Rule Breaker - Pt 1
max verstappen x single mom!reader
{next}
face claim: none, random pinterest find warnings: cursing, max is broody, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, idk red bull team aside from Max, Checo, and Horner... (y/n's bestie is named after my irl bestie bc she told me to write this, and y/n's son is not named after Magnussen i swear) Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4293 auth.note: hiii new to writing for f1 so I'm posting this in the middle of the night and hiding in bed - feedback greatly appreciated. also this is forbidden love/he falls first/friends to enemies to lovers
"Hey Max, come meet the new social media admin."
On his way out, he barely heard the words. But they registered and he immediately turned, knowing how important it was to have a good rapport with the social media personnel. He only had to meet them, then he could leave and go to the team apartment and⊠He didn't know. Pass time in his sim until he couldn't hold his eyes open. Maybe he'd go for a run until he was close to exhaustion. Or see if Lando was in the country and they could go out together. It was only when he was about to pass out that he was able to sleep and not be plagued with dreams.
His eyes swept the small office, swiveling to focus on the new face. She smiled, giving him a little wave as she set down her slice of pizza.
"Max, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Max."
"Hello," he said, watching as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"Hi, sorry." She took a sip of her drink and wiped her mouth again. "Sorry â It's so great to meet you."
She was American. Walking over, he extended his hand. "Where are you from?"
Shaking his hand, she smiled up at him. "Well most recently I was withâ"
"No, no, where in America," he corrected.
"Oh! North Carolina. I try to keep the country accent to a minimum but sometimes I slip up." She motioned to the pizza box on the desk. "You want a slice?"
No, he had to leave. His work was done, he didn't need to hang around and kill his precious down time. Besides, his diet was strict for the next few days, what with the race coming up. He had to focus on⊠Within fifteen seconds he was sitting across from her, holding a slice in one hand. One slice wouldn't hurt, he decided as he took a bite. "How long have you been in England?"
"About three weeks?" She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Three weeks tomorrow. I was staying at an Airbnb until a week ago when I moved into my apartment."
He nodded. "Are you going to be based here or go to the races?"
"Races. Gonna be living the glamorous life of travel and hotels and surviving on caffeine and sugar," she said with a roll of her eyes.
"It's not so bad."
"I'm sure I'll get used to it. You've been doing it for, what, half your life now?"
Shrugging, he took a sip of his water. "More than that, really. Are you saying you don't travel?"
"Not like this. I lucked out with my last job because I was able to do it mostly from home. I think I went up to New York or out to Cali maybe six times total? But I know I can do it," she added when his eyebrows lifted. "It'll just take a little getting used to, especially with a little one in tow a lot of the time."
That surprised him. His eyes immediately moved to her hands, which were completely bare of rings. "A little one?"
Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting. "He's three."
"What's his name?" Max asked. It was none of his business about the boy's father, anyway, so he wasn't going to ask about him. And he didn't even care.
"Kevin." Her smile was both shy and sparkling.
His chest tightened. Kevin, he knew, was one of the most loved children in the world. "What's he like?" The words came out and only after saying them he realized he wanted to know.
"He's⊠He's Kevin." She laughed. "He asks a million questions and will talk to anyone about anything. He's high energy but has laser focus when it's something that interests him â Like the other day I took him to the park. I expected him to be running around and trying out all the swings and stuff, but he spent an hour crawling in the grass following a caterpillar."
"Laser focus can be good at times," Max told her, earning a warm smile.
"I know. He comes by it honest because I do the same thing when I'm working."
"Will you be bringing him to the races?" Finished with his pizza, he shook his head when she nudged the box towards him and sat back to finish his water.
"Yeah. Not all of them, but to the next few. I already talked to Mr. Horner and Wanda about it," she said quickly, as though expecting him to be upset about her bringing her child to work. "He won't be in the way. My best friend â Ellie, she's his godmother â is traveling with me to Imola and Monaco to watch him for me. But her new job starts the first of June so I have to make arrangements before then."
"Does he like racing?"
"He's three," she deadpanned. "He loves anything with cars or trucks."
"You'll have to bring him to the trackâ"
"He also loves fart jokes and bugs."
Max blinked at her, snorting on a laugh when she grinned at him. "Fair enough."
"I do have to warn you, though," she said carefully, standing to gather the napkins and throw them into the trash. Closing the pizza box, she used a clean napkin to wipe off the desk. "He likes McLaren."
"It's the orange livery isn't it?" Max sighed. When she nodded, he shrugged. "I'll do my best to not hate him."
She giggled, letting out a snort.
And, for the first time in six months, Max felt lighter.
*-*
"There's my lil doodle bug," Viv cooed as Kevin leapt off the couch and ran towards her. Dropping her purse and work bag, she scooped him into a hug. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day, hm?"
Her son grinned, squeezing her tight. "I fell in poop!"
Viv froze for two seconds and leaned back a little. "What kind of poop?"
"Dog. Yes, it was fresh. Yes, he had a bath. Yes, I washed his clothes," Ellie announced as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your dinner's almost done â How was work?"
Viv kissed her son's cheek and set him down so she could pick up her bags. "I spent the day reading protocols and policies and signing contracts. Oh, and getting my uniform."
Ellie took the knapsack stuffed with team shirts and jackets. "Good thing you love blue huh?"
"No kidding." She glanced over to Kevin, who had climbed back onto the couch and resumed lining his hot wheels along the back. "How was he today?"
"He was fine. You worry too much, mama," Ellie said gently, following y/n to her bedroom. Setting the knapsack down, she took the work bag and reached inside to switch off y/n's work phone. "Ah, ah, you're off now. You don't officially start work until Monday, so they can't expect you to be on call."
"Yes ma'am." Y/n held her hands up in surrender. "I'm gonna change and get him tucked in then I'll eat, promise."
"Perfect. Bridgerton tonight?" Ellie asked on her way out the door.
"You know it!" y/n called after her.
Once she'd changed into sweats and an old t-shirt she went to the living room. "C'mon, doodle bug," she said softly, smiling when Kevin slid off the couch without hesitation. She helped him pack his cars into their cubby, telling him about her boring day at work while she led him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Then to her bedroom, wishing she had been able to afford a larger apartment so he could have his own space. But he didn't seem to mind, and more often than not he ended up crawling into her bed during the night. Something she treasured, because she knew that all too soon he would be "too big" to share a bed with his mama.
Three storybooks and a rambling made up tale about a one-eyed dragon and the princess that saved him from the evil knight later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned off the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams," she whispered before she left the room.
"So I met Max Verstappen today," she told Ellie a few minutes later while fixing her drink.
"Ooo Mr Tu Tu Du Du himself?"
Y/n snorted. "Yeah, that one." The chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli looked so much more appetizing than the greasy pizza she'd had for a late lunch, and she almost felt like she'd cheated on her best friend for ordering takeout.
"What's he like?" Ellie asked, scooping a little more sauce over the noodles.
"He's nice."
"Just nice?"
"I mean, he asked me surface level questions and laughed at my lame jokes? Yeah, nice." Y/n pulled her plate away before Ellie could push more food onto it and sat down to eat. "Everyone's been so nice, EllieâŠ"
Her friend squeezed her shoulder. "I'm so glad. I have good news, too."
Y/n lifted her eyebrows, unable to speak because her mouth was full.
Ellie sat down, smiling brightly. "I spoke to HR today and Kev will be able to use the daycare."
Gulping down her mouthful of food, y/n gasped. "Oh that's great!" she cried, feeling the weight of worry that had been plaguing her for three weeks lift. "They're sure?"
"Yep, you just have to come in with me before the first and sign a document giving me permission to take him from the premises."
"Excellent, we can go in the morning? I have to go in after lunch to get my kit. Camera, laptop, all that. And Wanda told me to get more shirts so I don't have to worry about laundry while on the road â Oh and I'll be getting our passes."
"Kevin is so excited about Italy. He wants to see the leaning tower of pizza."
"Bless his heart, maybe I can take him one day."
Plans made, she finished her late dinner and did the washing up then changed into her pajamas before settling on the couch to watch Bridgerton. They were rewatching the series so she didn't feel guilty about scrolling her social media, finally biting the bullet and following all of the RedBull people she knew from headquarters.
"You are the bane of my existence⊠and the object of all my desires."
"Ugh," Y/N and Ellie whined in unison.
"So much nicer than you've had me hard since we met," y/n muttered.
"Let's be real, practically anything is better than that," Ellie agreed.
They finished the episode and y/n headed to bed, keeping as quietly as possible even though she knew her son could sleep through anything. Digging her work phone from her bag, she powered it on to check for any missed messages, smiling slightly when she saw Max had added her on WhatsApp. Adding him back, she was about to turn the phone off again when a new message popped up.
đđ»
Rolling her eyes, she replied with the same emoji and waited a few seconds before plugging the phone in and turning on do not disturb. She wasn't going to have a late night chat with Max Verstappen of all people. He was probably just being nice, she told herself as she brushed her teeth and did her skincare. Wanda had told her that Max added everyone but rarely messaged anyone aside from Mr. Horner or the engineers.
Besides, she wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself as she climbed into bed. She could be friendly, but she was there to do a job.
And no flirting with him either, she thought, immediately wondering why the idea had popped into her mind. She would never â okay, she might, if unintentionally. She knew it was a protective thing, knew it was because she had the undesirable need to have everyone like her. But she couldn't do it. Not with him, especially. He'd probably laugh in her face. He was younger than her and probably had a never ending line of gorgeous women waiting to please him.
Before she switched off the lamp she glanced over at her sleeping son. A living, breathing, very real reminder of what she'd gone through just four years ago. And she knew she couldn't go through that again. She wasn't strong enough. She refused to endure that torture and heartache. Kevin needed her, so she had to be strong for him.
Not to mention there was a no hanky-panky clause in her contract?
She had barely closed her eyes when she heard his toddler bed creak. Lying there, she listened to his feet whispering against the rug, smiling in the dark when he slowly slid the covers back.
"Mama," he whispered, and she reached for him. He snuggled close, tucking his head under her chin as she pulled the covers over them.
"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair.
"Love you, Mama."
*-*
"I think it's good, yeah," Max said, eyes scanning the screens of data from the upgrades. "It'll be great for turn seven." Nodding, he listened to the engineers as they went over potential upgrades for Monaco. Once the meeting was finished he grabbed his water bottle and left the room, ignoring the almost immediate phone call from his father. He knew it was his dad without checking, and strode down the hall, intent on leaving and heading straight for the airport to go home. Where he could ignore everything and everyone until Sunday when it was time to fly to Italy.
Rounding the corner, he lurched to a stop as a small child darted in front of him, his giggles echoing down the corridor. The little boy stopped and looked up at Max, blinking slowly.
"Hi!" He waved.
"Hello." Max heard rapid footsteps and glanced up to see y/n iquickly approaching.
"Kevin Scottâ"
"I've got him," Max told her with a quick wave, squatting down to the boy's level. "So you're Kevin?"
The boy nodded, light blonde curls bouncing on his head. "I'm Kevin. That's Mama."
"I'm Max. I heard a lot about you."
Kevin's eyes widened. "You know Mama?"
"About this much." Max held his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. He quickly looked to y/n, who was walking up behind Kevin. "I work with her."
"Ohh⊠She's gonna take me to see cars. D'you like cars Mister Max?" he asked seriously. As though cars were the most important thing in the universe.
"More than I like myself some days," Max quipped, reaching to check the miniature car the boy was holding in his hand. "I drive one like this."
Kevin gasped. "Do you got it here?"
Max chuckled. "We have a lot. Do you want to see them?"
"Please," the boy said, and Max couldn't have said no under any circumstances.
"You have to ask your mum," he said gently. "And maybe say sorry for running away from her?"
Kevin immediately turned to his mother. "Mama I sorry. Can Mister Max take me to cars?"
She sighed, squatting down to fix his shorts. "We've gotta be more careful, sweetheart. And yes, Mister Max can take us to see the cars."
Kevin spun to face Max again. "She said yes!"
Grinning, Max nodded and stood.
"Thank you," y/n said softly. "I'm sorâ"
"He's three, yeah?" Max reached to place his hand on the boy's head, gently guiding him closer when he started to wander off. "Don't apologize for him being a child."
She tipped her head at that, then nodded, grabbing hold of Kevin's hand as Max turned to lead them back down the hallway he'd just left. "I only came by to get my kit, and his aunt had paperwork at her new workplace to finish up, so I had to bring him."
"I'm glad you did." Max gave her a gentle smile, using his card to open the door leading to the back of headquarters. "Have you been back here?"
"Only on my tour the other day."
"Just stick with me," he said. They wouldn't be entering the engineer or design areas, only taking the corridor to the garage. Otherwise they'd have to travel all the way to the main entrance and walk around to the back, which would be tedious for her son.
"I'm under contract and signed an NDA, and it's not like I'd know where to go to sell team secrets," she told him. "And I wouldn't even know what I overheard."
"Not a car fan?" he asked, accepting the model car Kevin was shoving at him. Slipping it into his pocket, he guided them along the curving corridor.
"Eh⊠Kinda? I like racing. I don't understand all the mechanics to it, I just like the adrenaline of watching twenty guys drive really fast. And I can admire good craftsmanship, like a Bugatti or a McLaren, ya know?"
"What do you drive?" Max asked, using his card to open the door to the garage. Met with the faint aroma of rubber and asphalt, he inhaled deeply, catching with it a lighter, more pleasant scent.
"Nothing at the moment. I've been taking an Uber to and from the apartment," she explained. "I'll probably get a used car after my first paycheck."
Max furrowed his brows, stopping on the catwalk. "You haven't gotten paid yet?"
"No? Well, only my signing bonus, and that's gone to household necessities like rent and food. It's fine, Max, I don't need a car right now."
What are you going to do, give her one of yours? he thought, reaching to Kevin and lifting the boy to his hip so he could carry him down the stairs to the main level. Kevin was already oohing and aahing over the neat rows of cars. "It's just me, Brandon," he called, seeing the member of the security team at the other end of the garage. "A quick tour for a new friend, yeah?"
Brandon waved and disappeared around the corner.
At the bottom of the stairs, Max set Kevin down, ushering him to the nearest car. The boy's excitement was contagious, and Max gleefully told him about each one that he'd driven, helping the boy climb into each and press buttons on the steering wheel. Laughing when Kevin made racecar noises, he pulled out his phone to pull up some videos for sound effects. Swiping away the notifications from his dad, he turned up the volume so the engine sounds echoed in the garage, enjoying Kevin's childish glee.
"This one you know," he said, guiding him to the most recent addition. Lifting him into the seat, he squatted down. "This is a car I drove last year, whichâ" He pulled the model car from his pocket and set it on top of the steering column. "âis just like the one you have."
"Wow." Kevin looked at him with pure awe. "Did you win?"
"I did. And I won the championship too."
"You're a champ-een, Mister Max?" the boy gasped.
"I am."
"Like Lightning McQueen?"
"You could say that," he chuckled, affectionately ruffling the boy's curls. Glancing over at y/n, he paused when he saw she was holding up her phone.
She peered at him over the top. "Is it okay to take pictures?"
"Of course." He had a feeling she'd already taken dozens. He stepped out of the way so she could get photos of Kevin in the car, then lifted him out once she tucked her phone away. "Have you seen the trophies?"
"No. Can we see 'em, Mister Max? Please?"
"You have to ask your mum." Turning, he sent y/n a pleading look as Kevin asked permission.
"As long as Mister Max doesn't mind," she said, rolling her eyes when Kevin squealed yay.
"It's a long walk, do you want me to carry you?"
Kevin squirmed, wriggling so he was piggybacking. "Thank you Mister Max."
His chest tightened, and he reached to adjust the boy's legs around his middle. "You're welcome, Kevin. We do have to make a stop on the way to the trophy case, though."
Next to him, y/n cleared her throat. "I can take him if you've got something to do."
"No, it's fine, a quick stop," Max assured her, motioning for her to go up the stairs first.
"A pit stop?" Kevin asked, giggling as Max jogged up the steps.
"Exactly that. No more than ten seconds," he promised.
Fifteen minutes later, he was squatting down to fix the collar of Kevin's new shirt. "There you go, mate. What do you think?"
Kevin grinned and gave him a thumb's up.
Max looked up at y/n, who rolled her eyes. "He has to be Team Red Bull," he explained with a shrug, adjusting Kevin's new cap with a grin. Thanking the merch manager, he handed over the bag of goodies he'd grabbed and motioned for Kevin to climb onto his back.
"Thank you!" Kevin called, waving enthusiastically as he was carried out.
"Thank you, Max," y/n murmured while they walked towards reception. "But please don't get him anything else."
"I won't," he said softly. "If I oversteppedâ"
"No, no, it's fine. He'll wear the shirts until they're too small and he'll play with the models until they fall apart. I just don't want him to think he'll get this type of treatment all the time."
"I understand." He nodded. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Which he found admirable. "âŠSo giving him one of my old cars is out of the question?"
She halted, jaw dropping. "Max!"
"A joke!" he promised, flashing her a grin as he jogged ahead.
"Not funny," she scoffed behind him, and he heard her huff as she ran to catch up. "Those things cost probably a millionâ"
Max swung around, easily catching Kevin and swinging him back onto his back. "The car for Miami was about sixteen million."
Her eyes widened. "Sixteenâ" She pressed her hands together right in front of her mouth. "Million? As in sixteen then six zeroes behind it?"
Nodding, he started walking backwards, amused at her reaction. She was staring at him in shock, and her son was giggling. "It's hard to pinpoint an exact cost, because we reuse some components from race to race. A chassis, or wings, yeah? If you really wanted to know I can pull up the data and get the price for each partâ"
"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Please don't. I'd probably faint."
"It's an expensive sport, y/n," he reminded her.
"Yeah no shit," she muttered, exhaling harshly. "I've got so much to learn."
"You'll be fine." He'd meant it to come out in an offhand manner. A generic it's okay so feelings wouldn't be hurt. But it came out gently, laced with reassurance and promise. And, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened again. "If you have any questions you can ask me."
"I can Google," she told him.
"I can change my Wikipedia to say I'm eighty-six. Doesn't make it true," he quipped.
To his relief, she laughed. "Fair point. I'll be sure and ask you."
He turned his attention back to Kevin, swinging him from his back to his hip. Reception was empty, and he set the boy down so he could explore the various displays. "He can't hurt anything," he reassured her, knowing she was watching carefully as Kevin ran over to a wing displayed on the wall.
"I just worry," she sighed.
"Why do you sound like you're apologizing?" Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Kevin walk around the large room, drinking it all in. "You're his mother, you're supposed to worry. If you didn't you would have to apologize."
"Thank you."
"He's a good kid, y/n," he said softly.
"I think so too." He could hear the smile in her voice and turned slightly to see it on her face.
Every other time he'd been in this room the weather outside had been cloudy or rainy. He couldn't remember the sun ever shining as he'd stood there to soak in all the history. Until now. It poured through the windows, causing the trophies in the cases to sparkle and the polished floor to gleam. It shone into her eyes, and he could only stare at her as she squinted a little, a tiny dimple appearing in her left cheek.
God, she was lovely.
She glanced at him and his breathing kickstarted. Unconsciously licking his lips, he cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well, for a single mom."
Her smile faltered and he mentally kicked himself. She looked to Kevin, who was studying the Red Bull logo on the wall, and looked at Max again. "I didn't have a choice."
"I'm sorry," he said automatically.
"Oh he's not dead." She watched her son, her smile gone. "Just dead to us."
"Then I'm sorry for bringing it up." It had ruined the day. Well, alright, not the day but the moment. They'd been having fun, he'd been having fun.
You always fuck up don't you?
His jaw clenched as the angry voice from years ago echoed in his mind.
"It's okay, Max." Her gentle voice cut through the echoes of the past and he forced his jaw to relax.
Nodding, he uncrossed his arms and called to Kevin, taking him by the hand and leading him to the towering trophy case. "Come on, y/n, time to learn some history."
She snorted on a laugh but joined them, and he could tell she was paying attention as he rattled off years and races and drivers to Kevin.
You're going to fuck this up too, the voice sneered.
#f1#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#max verstappen#max verstappen fic#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#my writings > mv > rulebreaker
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