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b3ach-bunn7 · 3 months ago

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GOOD GRACES

You meet Gojo at a party and tell him he needs to prove his worth before you let him take you out.

Or, the four times Gojo tries to date you and the one time you try to date him.

The dress you’re wearing is impossibly tight against your figure, and this night is impossibly boring. You’re a good friend. A great friend, even. To put yourself in a room with all these stuffy, high society people. You think you deserve some kind of award for it.

When Utahime asked you to join her, there was no contest. Of course you’d say yes to your best friend, no matter how heinous her request was. She’d been unable to find any plus one and she knew half the people at this event would turn their noses up at the fact she’d shown up alone. That was enough to deter you but the desperate look on her face had you accepting.

That’s why you were here, sitting on a table on your own while she mingled with others. You think it might be some alumni event from the rich high school she went to. Jujutsu Tech? You remember she showed you the tuition her parents used to pay once and you nearly passed out. You’re sure that's an amount of money you’d probably never see in your life. God, you hate the rich.

At least some of her peers were hot. You had your eyes on the blonde wearing blue and cream. Definitely boyfriend material. You tug your dress up your body. Utahime was definitely smaller than you, and the expensive dress she’d lent you was much more revealing on your body than it was hers. You wonder what all the high class teachers thought of your cleavage popping out of your dress. You wonder what blue suit thought about your cleavage sticking out of your dress.

“You look like you’re having fun.” A voice teases.

“I’m glad somebody’s fooled.” You reply, looking up at the man standing in front of you.

He’s tall. That’s the first thing you notice about him. You’re sitting down but you’re sure even if you stood he’d still be towering over you, long limbs that cross over a broad chest. You can see the outline of muscle through the black button up he’s wearing, and the thickness of his thighs that stretch his black slacks. And his hair is white. Dusting over his eyes that are impossibly blue, crinkled with amusement as he looks down at you.

You hold a hand out. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

His brows furrow slightly at your hand. But he still grabs it and his palm is warm as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I don’t think I recognise you. You were in the class of 2018?” He tilts his head slightly as he asks the question.

“Oh, God no. I’m here as a plus one.” You shake your head.

“You don’t sound too happy about that.” He grins, taking the seat beside you. You turn a bit so that you're slightly facing him, rolling your eyes.

“Of course I’m not happy about it. This place is way too prim and proper for me.” You sigh.

Gojo laughs. “What, high society not doing it for you?”

“Hell no. It’s like every conversation I’ve had is just a competition of who can brag about their wealth more. I’ve taken to just lying about it all.”

“Lying?”

“Yeah. You have two yachts, then I have three. You have one million, I have two. I can go all day.” Gojo laughs again and it makes you grin.

“Well, Y/N. You’re a good addition to these things. I hate them too. Everyone’s always all over me, you know. I was valedictorian, the teachers love parading me around to the current students.”

The very unsuccessful attempt at subtle bragging is not lost on you. Something about him, the attractiveness and cockiness rang familiar.

“Hm. You’re Gojo, right?”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “How did you know?”

“Oh, Utahime told me about you. Full of himself and tall, amongst other things. I think you fit the bill.” You pat his shoulder affectionately and he pouts.

“I can’t believe she’s been chatting shit about me. I’m a great guy.”

“It’s never the great guys who need to say they’re great guys, my friend.”

He pouts again and you giggle. You lean back, taking another sip of your champagne. You don’t notice the pair of blue eyes intently watching you do it.

“God, there’s a box of chocolate and a movie marathon waiting for me at home. I just need to power through this.”

“Oh yeah? What are you watching?”

“Romcoms. Tooth rotting romcoms.”

“Oh I love romcoms. You know, a lot of women say I’m just like-“

“I’m going to stop you right here.” You hold up a hand in his face and Gojo huffs, reaching up to grab it and move it.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’m sure I can guess and none of it makes you look good.”

He’s still pouting and also still holding you. Long, slender fingers that basically engulf your own hand, they’re that much bigger than yours. You wonder what else-

Okay. Maybe no more champagne for you. You tug your hand out his grasp, trying to play off the blush that dusts your cheeks.

“If you wanted to hold my hand so badly you could just say, Gojo.”

“I want to hold your hand.”

You fluster. “Shush. What’s your favourite romcom?”

“You just told me to ask. And.” He pauses, thinking. “27 dresses.”

You grin, now turning to face him completely. “I love that movie!”

“Me too!”

“Wow. I thought you were just lying to get into my pants. But you’ve got good taste.”

“Yeah, I definitely have good taste.” And he looks at you in that intense way again that makes you laugh nervously.

“So what do you do, Gojo?” You clear your throat, changing your mind and downing the rest of your champagne. You could do with the confidence.

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh, cool. Like in suits.”

Gojo snorts a laugh. “Yes, like in suits. Though I think I’m much more attractive than that Harvey guy.”

It’s your turn to laugh. He pouts again. “What, you don’t agree?”

“I don’t know. I’ve not actually watched the show.”

“Take my word for it. I am much more attractive than him. I’m taller, too.”

“What, that’s important to attractiveness?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks reddening again. You do know what they say and some part of you knows Gojo is probably not only blessed in the wealth department.

Jesus. You really need to stop drinking so much at these things. You glance at the empty glasses near you and you pretend they don’t exist.

“Gross.”

Gojo grins again, flashing those pearly white teeth.

“So, are you-“

“Gojo, fuck off.”

Utahime’s voice is whispered as she speaks but Gojo’s face twists like he’s been yelled at. He stands and tries to pull her into a hug but she shoves him away.

“Utahime! It’s been so long, you grew up so beautiful!”

“Shove your compliments up your ass, Gojo. Come on, Y/N, we’re leaving.”

You frown slightly, glancing at Gojo who also looks slightly dejected. But Utahime warned you of what he’s like. And while all the flirting and everything was nice you’re sure it’s all just a ploy to fuck you and leave. You were not going to be another woman under his belt. That poor girl that he fucked once.

But he’s so hot. That button up is hugging his biceps so deliciously you have to physically pull your eyes away.

“It was nice speaking to you, Gojo.” His eyes widen as you go to leave.

“Wait, can I get your number?” He asks quickly.

“No, you can’t get her number. I’m not letting you fuck her over.” Utahime snaps, pulling you up on your feet.

For the first time a twinge of irritation crosses Gojos features. “Come on, Utahime, don’t be like that. I’m not-“

“I don’t care, she’s not interested. It was not nice seeing you.” She snarls, dragging you away.

You always commend Utahime on her strong character but you sort of wish she’d just shut up. You give one more wave to Gojo, and you sigh at the sight of him standing there, because you know it's the last time you’ll ever see him.

——————-

It turns out you will see Gojo again. Or more accurately, his wealth.

You walk into your office the next day to see a very expensive looking bouquet on your desk. Blues and whites, all different types of flowers that bend and twist over each other. You slip off the card that’s attached to the bouquet and smile slightly at the very bad drawing of Gojo imprinted on the front. And a phone number scribbled underneath. A quick google search tells you these flowers cost a few hundred pounds. You’re so shocked by the sight of the price you don’t hear Utahime slide up beside you. You do hear her annoyed sigh.

“Let me guess. Gojo?”

You slip your phone in your pocket. “Might not be. I could have a secret boyfriend.”

“Yeah right. Like you can keep a secret for longer than a second.” She grabs the card out of your hand.

“Tell me you’re not going to message him.”

“I think I might. Thank him for the flowers, you know?”

Utahime brows furrow at your sly smile. “Whatever. I can’t stop you. You’re a grown woman. It’s your funeral.”

She raises her hands in surrender and passes you the card again. You pocket it and decide you’ll message him after work. You spend the rest of your shift staring at the flowers, wondering when he’d had the time to even get them here. Had he been thinking about you as much as you had him? Because you had been, last night, as you were falling asleep. Thinking about his height, those slender fingers, that grin. You realised it had been a bit too long since you’d been with a man.

You decide to text him on your way home. You’re squeezed on the train between an old man and a woman you think is about to fall asleep on you.

You: thank you for the flowers mr gojo

Gojo: 😁😁 Did you love them so much

You: I did

You: thought they take up a lot of room in my office

You: how much did you spend on them 😭

Gojo: Only the best for you baby

Gojo: And price is no issue

Gojo: You deserve them

Gojo: Surprised you’re even messaging me

Gojo: Utahime finally lay off?

You quickly realise that Gojo is not against double texting. Or quadruple texting, it seems.

You: I told her to fuck off >:)

You: jk

You: I told her I’m a big girl who knows what she’s doing

You: especially with guys like you

Gojo: 🤔 Guys like me!?

Gojo: Incredibly handsome and rich and talented and funny and smart guys??

You: modest too..

You: no, I mean guys who fuck girls and then expect them to leave right after

Gojo: If EYE fucked you you wouldn’t be able to leave

Gojo: But I’m not like that 🙁🙁 what has Utahime been telling you about me

You: im gonna ignore that first message for ur own good

You: and she told me enough 😒

Gojo: Whats enough

You: what’s your body count first

Gojo: … 😅

Gojo: Okay not fair I used to be a slut when I was a teenager

You: look i won’t say I’m not interested

You: ur hot and ur funny and u have good taste in movies

You: but I’m 24 😭 I’m not getting involved with someone who isn’t considering long term

Gojo: But I am considering long term

You: really?

Gojo: With you yeah

You: you prove that to me then

Gojo: 😫😫😫 HOW

You: YUCK don’t use that emoji

Gojo: 😫😫 WHY

You: looks like ur in the throes of an orgasm

Gojo: LMAOOO

Gojo: I look much sexier when I orgasm thanks

You: okay luckily my stop is next so we can stop talking about your orgasms now

——-

The flowers become a regular thing. So does the texting. You let Gojo know after the third time of leaving them at your desk that this wasn’t proving he was serious about you. He tells you he knows, and that he just wants to spoil you. You pretend that it doesn't leave butterflies in your stomach.

It’s been two weeks and you find yourself growing more and more attached to him. He messages you every morning and every night, during his breaks at work. He sends selfies too, with his three trainees, the smiley one with pink hair, the moody black haired one and the girl with a killer bob. Selfies of him in his suit for work, of him at the gym. You think those are definitely your favourite.

It’s weird that someone like Gojo is interested in someone like you. You’re sure there’s a thousand girls who are prettier and rich like him he’d get on with much better. You told him as much one late night, insecurities churning in your head, the early hours of the morning loosening your lips.

Gojo: Shut up don’t say that

Gojo: I like you because ur funny and kind and ur so smart

Gojo: I could give two shits about how much money you have

Gojo: And you’re beautiful Y/N

Gojo: Why do you think I approached you in the first place?

Gojo: Once you finally say yes ur definitely wearing that dress again 😋

You: thank you Gojo <3

You: and that’s utahimes dress I had to give it back :/

Gojo: I’ll buy you ten like them

You’ve not actually seen Gojo since the party. But you couldn’t mistake the figure chatting to your receptionist as you leave for your lunch break as anyone else.

“Gojo?”

He looks up the second he hears your voice. And you think his eyes brighten a little when he sees you, and he bounds over. He stops in front of you, warm hands dropping on your shoulders.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m taking you to lunch.”

“I’m not going on a date with you, Gojo.” You cross your arms.

He smiles slightly, shaking his head. “Not as a date. As friends. We’re friends, right?” He smiles wider and you couldn’t say no to him if you tried.

You begrudgingly walk out, waving goodbye to Doris at the front desk. She winks at you and you shoo her away. Gojo ends up driving you to a cute little ramen shop not to far from your place. He orders something he insists you’ll love. He commends his choice again as the steaming bowls are placed in front of the two of you. Before you could call him too confident, you practically moan when you take the first bite.

“Oh my god, this is so good.” You speak through a mouthful of noodles and Gojo nods.

“I know! You’ve never been here before?”

“No! If I did I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

The two of you chat about work. Gojo tells you about his latest case, and you listen intently, only a little jealous of how fun it sounds.

“The most interesting thing that happens at my work is someone eating someone else’s lunch.” You huff. “Or maybe the huge bouquets of flowers that keep showing up at my desk.”

Gojo leans forward slightly at the sight of your teasing smile. The table the two of you are on is small enough that when he does so his legs press against yours. You sit up a bit.

“Glad I can bring some entertainment to your office.”

“You’re giving me way too much. I had to give one of the bouquets to my mum, I had no space at my place. And she’s asking questions.”

“Oh yeah? Who’d you tell her they were from?”

“My stalker.”

Gojo splutters. “Your stalker? That’s not fair!”

You laugh. “Why not!”

“Well, that's ruined my first impression. I need my in-laws to like me.”

You roll your eyes. “What happened to this just being lunch?”

Gojo hums. “I can’t be prepared for the future? Who knows what it holds?”

“Shut it you.” You dunk your chopsticks into your bowl

He just looks at you. You glance up at him. You think catching him in the act will make him stop, but he doesn’t. Just keeps staring at you.

“You alright there?”

“You look really pretty today.”

Your face heats and you swallow. “Thanks.”

“This blouse.” He leans forward, fingers curling into the collar of your button up. He’s about one inch away from touching your skin and you want him to, want him to reach and trace his fingers down your chest.

“Looks good on you.”

You nod. Eyes transfixed on his. “T-Thanks. Yeah. Thanks.”

He grins once again, something glinting in his eyes.

————

A week later, the office postman drops something at your desk. An envelope with messy handwriting you can immediately recognise as Gojo’s.

You rip the envelope open and two slips of paper fall out. You quickly deduce that their tickets. Your eyes skim over them quickly. Your mouth drops open when you read the loopy calligraphy on them and you grab your phone, immediately dialling Gojo’s number.

“Gojo! You didn’t!”

“Wait, what did I do?” His voice comes confused down the other line.

“The tickets! To the outdoor movie night thing at the park! They were sold out, how did you get them?”

“Oh, that! Yeah, I know someone who works there that owes me a favour.” You can almost hear the smug tone in his voice but you don’t care.

Because the truth is you really wanted to go. Those outdoor movie parks. You always loved the picnic blankets all spread across a field, watching the sunset behind the movie screen. And not only was this one in the prettiest park in your town, but it was also showing one of your favourite movies ever. You usually went every year and you’d tried to buy tickets but you missed the cut off and they’d all been taken. You tried not to dwell too much in your disappointment, but this was too much.

“God, Gojo, thank you. How’d you even know I wanted to go?”

“You mentioned it like. A week or two ago? When I called you during my lunch break, remember?”

You barely did, so you have no idea how he did. You say as much to him and he laughs.

“I don’t know either. It’s not important. I hope you enjoy them.

He pauses suddenly.

“Also, this isn’t me like- asking you out subtly. They’re yours, you take who you want.”

God. Was Utahime sure this is the same Gojo she had gone to school with? Bceuase the man she’d described was nothing like the one you were on the phone with.

“Shut up, I’m taking you, obviously.”

“You really don’t need to.”

“I know. I want to.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll pick you up after work, then?”

“I finish at five.”

“I’ll see you then.”

——

It’s been a month and Gojo doesn’t know what to do.

He hates it. Never in his life has he been this enamoured with anyone. It’s usually the other way around and usually he’s the one rejecting unwanted advances. As vain as it sounds, Gojo doesn’t think he’s ever met a woman who’s taken longer than a few days to fall for him. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much more. You respect yourself too much to fall for the stuff his usual girls do.

Gojo will be honest. When he approached you at the party, his one goal in mind was to get you in bed. You just looked so good. Tight dress clinging around your curves, those tits almost spilling out. The expanse of your legs, paired with those heels. God, he’s only human. How could he not come over to you?

But then he’d actually spoken to you. And you were funny, and witty, and he kind of wanted to introduce you to his mother instead of just fuck you. And then Utahime had to ruin it all before he even had a chance.

So Gojo’s been trying so hard to win you over. Done everything he can think of. And it’s worse now, because the more he tries to win you over, the more he gets to know you, and the more he wants you. Not just physically but in every way of the word. He wants to take you out on dates, and wants to introduce you to Geto and Nanami. Buy you necklaces and bracelets that cost half his paycheck, introduce you to his family.

And most of all, though, he wants to spread you open against his bedsheets. Kiss his way down your neck, your chest. Make you whine underneath him, come undone under his hands.

That’s all minor details. Patience is what Gojo needs and what he definitely doesn’t have any when it comes to you.

He walks into his office, cursing the wasted good weather as he signs in. He waves at the receptionist Ijichi, a cheery, starry-eyed man a few years younger than him. Before he can reach his office he sees Yuji and Nobara standing in front of the door, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. Megumi is standing off to the side. He looks uninterested but Gojo can tell by the way he’s slightly leaning towards them he’s listening too.

“Is there a reason you young trainees are giggling in front of my office?” Gojo asks.

He feels oddly like their teacher, even though new hires are sort of everyone’s responsibility. They always only come to him. Megumi is probably his favourite but he’ll never tell them that.

Yuji giggles again. “You didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend, Gojo.”

Gojo’s brows furrow in confusion. He tilts his head to the side. “Apparently I didn’t tell myself either. What are you talking about?”

Nobara joins him, grinning. “Yeah, is she hot? I bet she is, you’re too vain to date someone ugly.” She shakes her head scathingly and Gojo splutters.

“Both of you shut up. Go do some work.” He shoos them away and they stalk off.

Gojo mumbles some choice words under his breath. He walks in and instead of seeing his messily kept desk he’s met with a bouquet of flowers on his desk. They’re definitely smaller than any of the ones he got you, but they’re pretty and pink. He plucks the card off the side and scoffs at the clumsily drawn person he’s guessing is supposed to be you.

Gojo: Blushing so hard in the office rn 🙈

Soon to be gf: do you love them :D

Gojo: They’re very pink

Soon to be gf: does that hurt ur masculinity :(

Gojo: Of course not

Gojo: I love them😆

‘I love you’ is what Gojo wants to say but he holds his tongue. That’s always his issue. Gojo doesn’t love a lot but when he does, he loves hard. Loves so much that he thinks it might kill him, swallow him whole.

He spends the first few hours of his shift idly working, eyes darting to the flowers that sit pretty on his desk. The trainees keep trying to find stupid excuses to walk in so they can try and see who they’re from, but Gojo just waves them off every time. He decides to go out for his lunch break, because the sickly sweet smell of the flowers is only reminding him of everything he doesn’t have.

And then he sees you chatting with Ijichi at the entrance and he remembers what this is all for. Your face lights up when you see him, grinning cheekily.

“Did you like your flowers, Mr Gojo?”

“I did indeed.”

You rest your head on your hand, leaning against the desk. You’re wearing a summer dress, something blue and patterned that clings to your chest and torso and flits around your lower half. The skirt rides up your thighs as you lean forward to whisper something to Ijichi and he curses under his breath.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo walks until he’s right in front of you.

You look up, something mysterious in your face.“I’m taking you out for lunch.”

Gojo tilts his head. “You’re taking me out? What's the occasion?”

“Just felt like it. Come on.”

Gojo follows obediently as you grab his arm, linking yours in it to walk him out the building. You chatter about something or the other. He can’t really focus because the sun is shining off your skin and your smiling and he just wants to reach over and touch you.

“Okay, we’re here!”

You pull Gojo into a bakery. There’s cakes and cupcakes and pies all lined up in glass cases, and the other half of the shop is filled with sandwiches and savoury treats. Gojo is practically drooling as he reads the menu.

“What- Why are we here?” He asks, eyes still trailing over the long expanse of desserts to choose from.

“I know you like your sweets so I looked around for a good bakery and this one was right here, right next to your work! So I thought I’d take you here so I could-“

You pause. “Yeah.”

“So you could what?”

“No matter. Now go pick something.”

You end up taking the desserts to go after the ten minutes it takes for him to decide what he wants. You lead Gojo through some pathways he’s never been down before. He asks you if you plan on murdering him and you roll your eyes. Doesn’t deny it though.

The end result is not his murder location, but a cute park, with ducks and a pond. They sit on a rusty bench dedicated to someone gone, and eat their desserts. You scrunch your nose at the amount of sweets he can eat in one sitting. The two of you talk about everything and anything, until you start looking nervous.

“You okay? You’ve gotten all fidgety.”

“Mhm. I’m okay. Just nervous.”

Gojo is confused. Nervous about what? About him?

“What’s there to be nervous about?”

There’s a soft breeze blowing wisps of your hair into your face. It's only twelve o clock so the sun shines brightly above the two of you. The park is pretty empty, though, the occasional dogwalker or old man idly walking by. You bite your lip, scratching at your cheek.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to ask you out.”

Oh.

Your cheeks flush red almost the same second as the words leave your mouth.

“Shit. Fuck, I didn’t mean- Oh god, I’ve ruined it.” You groan, covering your face with your hands.

Gojo breathes a laugh. “What- What's going on?”

You shake your head, still hiding in your hands. “God, I just. I like you, I realised. Really like you. And I think that- that I want to be with you. So I thought about asking you out and I was going to do all the things you did for me, like the flowers and everything. But I’ve fucked it.”

You look up at him and he looks at the crease between your eyebrows, the small pout on your lips. And it seems the only thing he can do is reach forward and kiss you. His hands reach up and curve under your jaw, fingers toying with the hairs on the back of your neck. You make a little whine as he licks into your mouth and it makes him press closer. He’s sure you can probably feel the arousal on him, and he knows that as he lets his hands slip to the small of your back and pull you onto his lap.

“So beautiful, you know that? Been dreaming about this.” He groans, kissing your jaw, down your neck.

He licks at your pulse and you moan slightly and he can feel the heat on your face as you cards a hand through his hair. You pull him back, and it’s his turn to moan at the pain in his scalp mixed with the delicious pressure of you sitting in his lap.

“Gojo, we- we’re in public.” You laugh.

He leans forward, dropping his forehead on yours.

“I don’t care. I’ve been waiting for you for a month, you temptress.” He sighs dramatically.

“Ask me out first at least, gosh.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you all enjoyedddd! i just randomly had the idea for this and i hope you all like it. also i really wanna write smut but i also cringe out so much?? so one day just expect at the end of one of these oneshots y/n getting dicked down!

as always asks are open, so plz feel free to leave me some suggestions!

#fluff #oneshot #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #satoru #gojo satoru x reader fluff #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #b3ach bunn7

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etherealily · 9 months ago

Text

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breaching every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what you thought he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffle bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

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cameronspecial · 10 months ago

Text

Let Me See It, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe never wants Y/N to not be able to do something she wants because of her financial situation.

A/N: This video is the inspiration.

Masterlist

Everyone knows Rafe Cameron is packing in his pants and his bank account. So Y/N isn’t blind to the money her now-boyfriend has. What is surprising to her once she starts dating the Cameron man is his complete willingness to give large amounts of his money to her. Not that she asks, he randomly sends her the money and will refuse to take it back whenever she tries to return it to him. He literally threatened once to stop eating if she didn’t take the money. However, it doesn’t stop her from trying to impede him from giving her the money. Rafe always finds a way though. Y/N is lying in his bed, reading a book for class while he is in the shower. Her phone on his bedside table buzzes every few minutes with a new notification and although she is annoyed by the sound, she is too lazy to turn it on Do Not Disturb. The sound of the continual stream of water coming from the shower head stops and out comes Rafe with only a towel around his waist. The drops of water slowly running down his smooth abs pull her attention from the page. Rafe catches her gaze and smirks to himself. The vibration from her phone causes wrinkles to form between his eyebrows. He raises a finger to point at the technology, “Let me see it, Angel. Please.”

She doesn’t question his request. She has nothing to hide and she trusts he doesn’t have any malicious intent with wanting to see it. He probably wants to put it on DND or check the time. Y/N hands it over with her eyes returning to her book. With her phone in his hands, Rafe can now see who is blowing up his girlfriend’s phone. It’s her study group, which is comprised mostly of other male students. For some, this fact would bring jealousy to their partner, but Rafe feels secure in his relationship with Y/N and it also helps to know the reason why there aren’t a lot of women in the group is because Y/N’s other female friends are busy with work. What does get his emotions going is the actual messages of the group chat.

Dinner at Greenleaf later tonight? One of the members of the group chat texts and it is followed by agreement from the other members. Rafe’s eyes find the blue bubble belonging to his girlfriend’s response. Sorry guys, I can’t. I have to start budgeting with tuition for next semester coming up. This breaks Rafe’s heart that his angel can’t go out with her friends because she needs to save money. Not being able to do something he wants to do because of money is something foreign to Rafe and he is determined to make sure Y/N doesn’t have to choose between what she wants to do and what she can afford. He grabs his phone from his desk, opening his bank app immediately. He sends an e-transfer to her and once he knows the text notification has gone through, he places her phone on her stomach. His hand yanks her book out of her hand. He tilts his head toward his dresser, where she keeps some spare clothes. “Get ready, you are going out to eat.” He struggles to not invite himself to the dinner, but he knows that it is healthy for them to have lives outside of their relationship. One of her eyebrows raised, “What are you talking about? I thought Topper wanted to try this recipe he found on TikTok.”

“He does. You aren’t going to be here for it because you are going to Greenleaf with the others.”

“Oh, Rafe, I already told them I couldn’t go. I have to start saving for tuition.”

“Check your phone,” he orders, flicking his chin to the phone on her stomach. She opens her phone to find the notification and shakes her head, “You have to stop sending me money, Rafe. I know how to budget and I can take care of myself.” “I know you can take care of yourself, Angel. But it’s not like you aren’t taking care of yourself if you take it. So put the money in your account and start getting ready before you are late,” he says, finally deciding it is time to get his own clothes on. She sighs and does as he orders. Her eyes widen at the number she sees. This is the largest sum of money he has ever sent her. “Rafe, ten thousand dollars! I’m not going to spend that much on dinner,” she argues, already making it her mission to send back ninety-nine percent of it. He shrugs, “It’s fine. Get whatever you want and you can pay for everyone else’s bill too. I also might have to get you to get me something in case Topper decides to go off-book with the recipe.” “Even if I got all that, it still wouldn’t break a thousand,” she persists. He takes her phone out of her hand and points at her clothes, “Don’t worry about it, Angel. Start getting ready. You don’t have to use all the money for dinner tonight. I’m only making sure you have enough money in case you need stuff for school or home or something.”

Upon seeing the time, Y/N ceases the small argument and begins to change. She kisses Rafe once she has her clothes on, heading out the door with the exchange of I love yous. Y/N may have agreed to take the money and knows he wants her to spend it on her, yet it won’t stop her from getting the new ring she knows he has been eyeing for a while now. Just because Rafe’s love language is gift-giving, it doesn’t mean she can’t give something right back to him.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron series #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks fic #outer banks rafe #obx fanfiction #obx #obx fic

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zeroeightzeroone · 1 year ago

Text

your heart and my anchor - han jisung

love collection

genre: hurt/comfort

pairing: fem!reader (infp) x idol!han jisung (intp)

warnings: descriptions of anxiety and of a panic attack

wc ~2.6k | moodboard

notes: if this looks familiar, it was originally posted to my secondary blog @zerothreetwentyfive so i'm republishing everything here on my main blog.

originally requested by @pcchacoseung

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

sometimes, you wonder why you decided to work and be a university student at the same time, that is until you remember the money that goes into tuition fees and the fact that you needed to move out in order to attend school. you're privileged enough that your parents are able to help pay your tuition whilst you pay for your rent and the other necessities you need to live in the city but that doesn't lessen the amount of stress that plagues you on and off again throughout the semesters. especially at the end of the year when exams are creeping up on you, figuring out how to move your schedule around to accommodate studying, working and finding the time to take a breather and relax; the latter option is usually dropped from the equation.

when you aren't on campus or at work, you've locked yourself up in your room. sitting behind your desk and stuck to your laptop, your textbooks and notebooks sprawled and spread over the surface, multiple pens around the area. sometimes you lose all sense of time when you're so hyper-focused on the task at hand that you only get a couple hours of sleep before you rush to get ready for work. you're done work when the sun goes down and once you get home you're back behind your desk, working till the sun comes up. the routine only repeats whether you like it or not.

jisung has been pretty busy as well. behind-the-scenes work with writing, producing and directing songs that may or may not end up on the next album, attending schedules and practicing day in and day out. it's been a while since you've been able to see each other, the both of you exchanging a few texts here and there.

j.one<3: i miss you baby i wrote some lyrics today thinking about you

you: i miss you too :,) a lot, a lot a lot

j.one<3: how have you been love? school and all?

you: it's been good

whenever he asked how you were doing, you'd always tell him that things were going fine, that it's okay, that you've got everything under control; acting like everything is a hundred and ten percent fine and dandy and you aren't on the verge of a breakdown every couple of hours. you didn't want him to worry about you. you didn't want to add to jisung's own current struggles, not wanting to burden him with your own.

j.one<3: hmm ok love you know i'm here right whenever you need me

you: of course and i love you for that

j.one<3: i love you more you got this, i believe in you baby

after your short text conversations, you'd turn on 'do not disturb' mode and a little message would pop up on jisung's side that you've switched it on.

j's one and only has their notifications silenced

a little signal for both you and him to get back to work.

…

j.one<;3: hey love i'm gonna be in the studio all day working you wanna come by and do your work here too?

and that's how you ended up sitting on the couch inside the studio. your laptop rests on your thighs, two browser windows opened up alongside each other on the screen with a notebook and pen sitting next to you. across the room, jisung sits at the recording desk in front of the computer with the program opened up on the screen, a headset over his ears and a notebook sitting in front of him, twiddling a pencil between his fingers.

although, the longer you're seated inside the studio, with your laptop displaying your calendar on one side and schedule on the other; showing off tasks that need to be finished today whilst the other side shows off the tasks and events coming up in the week.

the more you're convinced that you're going to have a mental breakdown with each passing minute.

you thought that maybe, just maybe, being in the same room as jisung would help as motivation, as comfort. having your person in the same room might hold you back from taking cover inside a hole, alone, curled up into a ball and ignoring the stresses life's currently throwing at you.

but instead, as the time passes you feel deep envy growing for your boyfriend who is seated at the recording desk. you find yourself envying the way jisung is twirling his pencil, bopping his head to whatever track is playing through the headset and the way he is able to—unlike you—focus on the tasks at hand.

how were you supposed to focus on anything when your mind continues to relentlessly remind you of all the work that needs to be done today? that you'll wake up tomorrow, only to repeat the process of slaving to get the work done.

how could you even try to focus when that tightening sensation in your chest, the one that restricts your airflow, only gets worse as the time passes?

you couldn't—you can't and you hate it.

you absolutely hate how you feel right now.

how you're mentally and emotionally trying to calm yourself down. trying to talk yourself back onto the ground and out of your frantic mind to breathe.

your heart's racing, the pulse only picks up as the time passes. it beats so loudly you can't seem to hear anything other than your own heartbeat, your hearing completely zeroed in on it.

your chest not only feels heavy but it starts to hurt, a throbbing sensation begins to come and go. it's like there is someone sitting on your chest and no matter how hard you try to get them off, you just can't. the harder you struggle, the more you feel suffocated, as if the air inside this vast recording studio only occupied by you and jisung is being sucked out, the walls closing in on you.

that painful feeling of your breath caught in your throat only leads to your heart rate picking up double time, your body feels restless while your mind repeats the same shit over and over again. the angel on one shoulder tries to calm you down, telling you to take a breather, take a break but the devil on the other only talks over her. overpowering her completely, as she reminds you that you aren't deserving of a break or a breather right now; seeing as you haven't completed any significant amount of work since entering the studio.

unbeknownst to you, your body trembles as your hands come together in front of you, fingers fiddling and picking at the skin on the opposite hand.

y/n, you think to yourself, come on, pull on your big girl panties and get on with it.

you're distracted trying to calm yourself down.

trying to bring yourself back down to earth instead of currently being inside your own head, you feel like you've lost any semblance of control you once had. god, you hate this feeling, you absolutely loathe how your heart quickly palpitates beneath your heavy chest, gradually getting dizzy as your restlessness only builds. however, no matter how anxious you feel, your body is nailed to the couch—you're frozen and unable to will yourself to get up on your feet.

it's like everything around you is speeding up and leaving you behind. they're leaving you behind in a state where your self-control slips away and causes your fear to grow tenfold.

you're scared. you're terrified that you won't come down from this— that you don't know how to come down from this, how to regulate everything inside you. the dread slowly sinks in as you slowly convince yourself that you will never be free from this state of overwhelming emotion that consumes you as the minutes pass.

jisung's hands move to adjust the headset, moving one cup away from his ear as the track has finished playing a moment ago. initially, he wanted to note something down in the notebook in front of him but the moment that one cup is off, he completely removes the headset and places it down in front of him on the desk. for a moment, he stills, listening to the room:

the echos of you clicking around on your laptop isn't heard.

this leads jisung to wonder if you've dozed off in the middle of working prompting him to spin around in the rolling chair, only to be met with you sitting on the couch wide awake.

when his brown eyes are laid on your figure, jisung's heart drops at the sight; you gnawing at your bottom lip, your chest trembling as it heaves, your whole face is flushed and your eyes are the slightest bit blown.

jisung immediately knows what's going on, he knows it all too well.

your boyfriend rushes to his feet and towards you, shutting your laptop and moving it on the couch beside you. slowly, jisung is kneeling in front of you as he gently encapsulates your hands in his.

he can feel the way your body trembles beneath his touch.

"y/n, baby, my love," jisung calls for you softly, his chocolate brown eyes sparkle as they gaze up at you, "you're okay, you're safe."

his eyes scan over your face, watching as your own slowly meet his. there's a dullness to your eyes, a sense of apprehension laced in your features as your thoughts plague your body and mind.

"hey, love," he smiles and lightly caresses your hands with the pad of his thumbs, "just keep your eyes on me, i'm here. i'm not going anywhere, okay? just focus on my voice, love."

you fight your own body to regain control, to regain the strength to regulate your own emotions. you've grit your teeth in an effort to stay focused on your boyfriend's voice.

"hey, hey… you're safe love. i'm gonna move beside you, okay baby?" he moves slowly to sit next to you on the couch, careful not to startle you with any quick or sudden movements.

one of his hands move to your cheek gently caressing you there as well. a feeling of delight washes through his body at the sight of you instinctively leaning into his touch.

"you're okay. i know it feels scary right now but you're going to be okay. you're going to get through this, yeah?"

the hand on your cheek moves to pat your hair down gently. jisung's gentle touch moves around your body as a physical reminder that you aren't alone and that he is here with you.

"just keep focusing on my voice."

jisung continues to look over you, observing your current state and identifying how else he could help.

"i'm proud of you, you know?" he says fondly, "i know things get hard and it's scary sometimes but you always find a way to get through it. you're always doing such an amazing job."

a deep, unstable breath leaves your lips.

"good girl! you're doing great. breathe, breathe with me okay?" he inhales deeply and you attempt to follow him. then he exhales, "...one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

your exhales are shaky, your control not totally regained as you're fighting to get yourself out of your own head. but you feel the tension slowly dissipating from your body.

"one more time with me. concentrate on your breathing, okay?" this time jisung shuts his eyes as he inhales, hearing you take in a breath as well, before letting the air out slowly, "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten..."

jisung notices your previously blown-out eyes have softened, he then decides to move on another strategy to further help you anchor yourself back down into the present.

"that's my girl, i'm so proud of you," he pats your hair once again, "does my y/n need anything right now?"

your voice is incredibly hushed and strained when you squeak out the next two words, "hold me."

jisung scoots even closer to you. adjusting himself so one arm is around your shoulders, wanting to hold you close to him. his other arm moves your head to rest on his chest and he gives you a moment to adjust as he whispers reassurances that you're okay, that you're safe and that he's here.

your ear presses up against his clothing as his hand rests on your jaw, caressing your skin with his palm. the warmth radiating off of jisung's body has your body reacting the way it usually does, melting into him as a wave of comfort washes over you. another deep breath leaving your lips, still a bit shaky but an improvement nonetheless.

"what are three things you can hear right now?"

your eyes flutter close as you try your best to tune into your surroundings, trying to identify noises inside the quiet room.

you hum, "your heartbeat… the vent… your breathing."

"how 'bout three things you can smell?"

"your cologne… coffee… brownies."

"now, can you tell me three things you can see?"

your eyes open slowly with blinks as you adjust to the light before you scan around the room.

"recording desk… microphone… computer."

jisung's hand moves to wrap around your wrist, gradually lifting your hand up in the air in front of you both.

"wiggle your fingers for me," your fingers wiggle, "kick your leg up for me," you kick your leg up slowly, "roll your ankle around." you roll your ankle around, "good job my love, i'm so proud."

your arm moves to wrap around jisung's body, pulling yourself closer to him. a breath of relief leaves your lips at the sense of ease that comes with the action, how you're able to grip onto the fabric of his shirt and nuzzle your face further into his chest.

"inhale," he sucks in a breath and you follow suit, "exhale... one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. do you need anything else, y/n baby?"

you shake your head, melting into his side as you feel your pulse and breathing regulate to a normal pace. you feel like your feet are back on solid ground, in control and in the centre of your mind instead of backed into a corner hiding away from it.

"i'm here," he coos, swaying your bodies back and forth, "you're not alone. never. i'm here. i'm right here with you."

when you shut your eyes, tears fall down your flushed cheeks-- tears that had welled up due to stress and overwhelming bursts of emotions you weren't able to control--but now they fall with a sense of relief.

"i love you," your voice is quiet, trembling the slightest bit, "thank you… thank you for being here. i love you so much."

jisung hushes you, his hands gently running up and down your back, "it's the least i can do. I'm always gonna be here, y/n, always."

you nod, your eyes still closed as you take a couple of moments to yourself in jisung's arms. this time you're trying your best to anchor yourself back down to earth by thinking of what you love, what relaxes you, reminding yourself of the light and the good.

you know this isn't going to be the last panic attack you're going to have but at least you know that you aren't alone, there's always someone willing to help. jisung continues to remind you of that, that he'll be there for you no matter what, in any way he possibly can. at the same time, jisung knows that you'd do the same for him as you've done it time and time again.

jisung has told you multiple times that he doesn't know how he'd function without you, feeling like he would be completely lost without you.

you are his heart.

meanwhile, jisung is your anchor.

in the middle of an uncontrollable storm, when the harsh waves rock the boat every which way, an anchor is vital to stay strong and controlled during such conditions. an anchor is a symbol of stability, a symbol of strength; a person you can rely on to support you to stay strong, to hold on even during the toughest of storms.

you found that person in jisung.

#zeroeightzeroonerequests #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenarios #stray kids hurt/comfort #stray kids soft hours #stray kids x reader #stray kids one shots #stray kids oneshot #skz imagine #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz han comfort #skz han one shot #skz han imagine #skz han fluff #stray kids han one shot #stray kids han imagines #stray kids han imagine #hjs love collection

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sophswritingthings · 1 year ago

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ruin my life -- chapter 1

| warning(s): light swearing |

| a/n: modern mizu had such a grip on me, and now were here. |

| summary: an overlook into mizu's life before you enter it. |

| song rec: ruin my life -- zolita (for the story, in general) |

| word count: 776 words / 4,211 characters |

______________________________________________________________

mizu always kept to herself, she was never the loud type. always played a background role, even if people thought she should be in the spotlight.

never had she believed that before she met eiji.

eiji was an alumni at her school.. one of the many famous actors the school had produced. the amount of actors they had produced is why she really wanted to go to the school, in the first place.

and meeting him kind of changed her whole perception of her own talent, of her own mind. if someone who was so great could tell her all these great things about herself, they were true, surely.

"listen here, kid, nobody ever did anything by sitting on their ass and never getting anything done," he furrowed his eyebrows as they walked side by side, through the halls of the marbled school. "I know that better than anyone. you remind me of myself, when I went here."

she arched one eyebrow, "how come? im.. nothing like you, I mean.. you're this great actor and im just.. a college student who can barley pay their own tuition."

he gently gripped her shoulder, nodding, "exactly. do you think I was some great guy while I was in college? I didn't come from riches, kid, I could barley pay for this college when I was your age."

she adverted her gaze, a little sigh leaving her lips, "suppose that's true," mizu mumbled.

"and ive heard you do fencing," he tapped his cane against the ground, "as did i."

"oh--yeah. yeah, I know," a small smile crossed her lips. "its part of the reason I wanted to start. sort of, I guess."

"its a noble practice," he nodded, smiling a bit. "may I request to meet you, again, mizu? after your classes, tomorrow."

her eyes widened, gazing at him. someone as great as him, wanted anything to do with them?

"um, uh, yes." she stammered, "I'll meet you here."

and from then on, that's what they'd do. hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks that she would meet eiji for both fencing practice, and acting/college advice.

eiji was basically the father she had never had, someone to inspire her, push her forward.

her college life had improved, a little. not by much, but a little. she still lived in a small-ass college dorm with three other girls, sharing two sets of bunk beds in the room the size of a walk in closet.

"mizu? hey?" one of the girls, carrie, seemed to take an interest in her early. and of course, she had settled on the top bunk of mizu's bed. the girl popped down, swinging her head over mizu's bed. "you doin' anything tomorrow? me and some friends were going out and--"

mizu's head had almost immediately blocked out any word she said. she didn't want anything to do with this girl, nor what she was offering. she seemed to be the kind of girl to cling and never leave, and she was not about that. she'd come home crying over some new girl every week, she could guess, crying that they said she was "too clingy".

"uh--yeah. im working," mizu hissed, never looking up from her phone.

that wasn't a lie, actually, she had work at her average pay job as a barista. she had been working there ever since she got accepted into the college, how else would she pa her tuition?

not that it helped, much, it wasn't the best pay ever. and her tuition was more than 50,000 dollars a year--she was going to be in debt for more days than she thought she could count. but if she managed (and hopefully she would, with eijis help) to get a good gig, or few, she could pay it off in no time.

the coffee shop wasn't too bad, though. customers were usually quiet, besides the few that would come in every so often. she'd get okay tips, considering she tried to be as respectful as she could.

she had her friends. none of which attended the same school--they all had different majors. whom she considered her best friend, akemi, was in harvard law school miles away from them. taigen had gotten into law school, too, just not the same. (he definitely wasn't smart enough for harvard, that's for sure.) and ringo, the sweet culinary major she'd met going out for drinks, one night, with akemi. he was a mixologist, and despite his lack of hands--he was a wonderful one.

her life was calm. her life was quiet.

there was never anything absolutely interesting, about it.

that was--until you walked into it.

______________________________________________________________

#mizu #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #part 1 #modern au #bes #blue eyed samurai fanfic #x reader

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 2 years ago

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Sugar and Spice : Prologue

Word Count : 1.4k

Warnings : swearing, food mention, cheating, mention of fighting someone, minor hurt

A/N : I'm going to try and do daily updates like I usually do, but I make no promises as I am working on this series as well as Perfect For You and requests. Anyway! This chapter is honestly really tame for what the series is going to be. Just a quick introduction to some of the characters. I hope you enjoy regardless!!! The toxic will come!

His profile was simple, basic. There was nothing spectacular about it. She had other men in her messages with more interesting profiles, with pictures, yet she found herself replying only to catluvr1998. He intrigued her, drew her in, right from the beginning.

After meeting him, her intrigue only grew. He was young and handsome. He certainly wouldn’t need to pay for sex or arm candy, evident by the amount of girls staring at him every time he took her out. Yet his eyes were only on her.

She liked having other daddies, other men on the back burner so she doesn’t get too attached. She knew better than to get attached. Knew what happened the last time she got attached. But with him it was different. He was addicting in the best and worst ways. A drug she couldn’t get enough of. A drug she refused to quit. Even when she found out the secret he tried so hard to keep from her.

“You’re married?” Minho looked at her then to the ring she was holding. The same ring he slid off his finger before every meeting with her, slipping it into his pocket, and forgetting about it until he pulled up in front of the house he shared with his wife.

“Yes.” She shoved the ring into his hand and began to walk away, but he caught her wrist. She struggled against his grasp, begging him to let her go. But he held on tighter. “I don’t want her to ruin what we have, Y/n.”

“I don’t sleep with married men, Minho.” With one final tug of her arm, she was able to get free from his grasp. But she didn’t move, she stayed standing in front of him as if there was still something holding her there.

“Then pretend I’m not married. Because when I’m with you, she doesn’t exist. It’s only you.” He moved closer to her, cupping her face in his hands, and pressing his lips to hers. Game over. He won. Minho always gets what he wants, and he wants her.

“I need a new sugar daddy.” Hyunjin exclaimed, flopping onto the couch beside her.

“What happened to the one you met last week?” He handed her his phone wordlessly, a text conversation already open. Immediately she could tell why he broke things off. “We’ll get Chris to fight him.” She jokingly said handed his phone back to him, hoping to get him to crack a smile.

“I’d pay to see that.” He chuckled. Mission accomplished. “Help me find a new one? You seem really good at finding the good ones.”

“What about-“

“We don’t talk about him.” She giggled but agreed. No good would come out of talking about him. The reason she stopped seeing one man exclusively. The reason she would only keep each one around for a short period of time. Until Minho. But Hyunjin doesn’t need to know that she’s folding in on herself again, that she’s falling down the same hole she did back then.

“Give me your phone.” Hyunjin happily handed over his phone as he curled into her side. She scrolled through the profiles on the site she introduced to him a few months ago when he complained about his tuition and rent being so expensive.

“What about him?”

“No bio means immediate turn off.”

“Him?”

“Barely makes enough money to support one person let alone two.” It continued like that for a bit. Hyunjin pointing out guys that interested him and Y/n pointing out how to tell they would be bad sugar daddies. She taught him all the tricks she picked up on throughout her years of being a baby, and he listened as if it was the most important information he would ever learn.

When her roommates came home, she handed Hyunjin back his phone, and went to see what they wanted to do for dinner. And as always, it resulted in the two of them arguing over which restaurant would be better. “Hey! Who said we were going out to eat? What if I was going to cook?”

Both her roommates looked at her before bursting into laughter. “Oh please. You don’t know how to cook.” Seungmin teased, shaking his head.

“I hate you both.” She mumbled before heading back to where she left Hyunjin, Jeongin calling after her that he didn’t even say anything, but all she did was flip both of them off. “Did you find anyone interesting while I was talking to the babies?” She asked, sitting next to him again, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Him. I have to have him. Do you see those arms? He could choke me and I would thank him.” She giggled as she took the phone from her best friend, giving a quick once over to the profile he was clearly ogling while she was gone.

“Give him a like but wait for him to message you first. Remember, we want them begging for us, not the other way around.”

“Y/n we’re hungry! Can we please go eat now?” Jeongin whined as he walked into the room her and Hyunjin were in. “Hi hyung. Are you joining us for dinner?” Hyunjin looked over to Y/n with pleading eyes and a pout on his face, knowing it was hard for her to say no when he looked at her like that.

“Fuck sake. Someone call Chris. Might as well make it a group thing.” She rolled her eyes.

“We all know that he’s probably trying to rizz up some girl so the only call he’s answering is yours.” Seungmin chimed in with his arms crossed across his chest.

“I need new friends.” She mumbled pulling out her phone and calling Chris, who luckily answered after only a couple rings.

“What can I do for ya sweet cheeks?”

“Please tell me you were not with someone when you answered the phone like that?”

“What’s wrong with how I answered the phone?” She made eye contact with Seungmin who was just smirking to himself, knowing he was right in his assumption that Chris was flirting with someone just seconds before answering his phone. He will always answer her call, no matter what, which is why she’s the only person with a personalized ringtone, a secret only he, and Seungmin, know.

“Not important. We’re all heading out to eat and I wanted to invite you.” It didn’t pass by the other three standing in the room the way she told him she wanted to invite him, not all of them. Ever since Chris joined their friend group, there has been unspoken sexual tension between the two, but neither of them made a move.

“You specifically, baby girl?” He teased.

“Come or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.” She hung up the phone before he could reply, but the others already knew he would be there. Because there was no way he would turn her down.

“You look beautiful.” Chris whispered in her ear when the others were too deep in their own conversation to pay attention to the two of them. Her cheeks reddened at the compliment. She tried so hard to get over the hopeless crush on her friend, but it seemed impossible when he looked at her like she was the only girl in the world and treated her like she was the most precious person to him.

“Well that makes one of us.” She teased causing him to chuckle. She got lost in his smile. His beautiful, wonderful smile that made all the bad days better. And as she opened her mouth to say something else, her phone went off.

I miss you. Can I see you? She stared at the text with a small smile on her face, one Chris recognized all too well. It’s the same smile he gets on his face whenever she calls him, and he knows it’s time to let go.

Of course. I miss you too. It was like all other thoughts disappeared as soon as Minho texted her. Her mind was filled with only thoughts of Minho. So she excused herself from the dinner, sending enough money for them to pay the bill and then some to Seungmin, and went home to change and wait for Minho to pick her up.

She promised herself it wouldn’t be like this again. She wouldn’t become attached, wouldn’t crave his affection. But no matter how many times she tried to walk away, she always ended up back in his arms. Every path she walked down lead her back to him. Because everything leads back to him. He made sure of it.

back to masterlist

@mxnsxngie @chansducky10 @im-yn-suckers @tattywood @kpoprhia

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elumish · 1 year ago

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Writing a Professional Email

I work in client services, which means that a frankly depressing amount of my job is writing emails, both for myself and for other people. There is an art and a science to writing professional emails.

The subject line

The subject line should be informative enough that somebody scanning through their inbox can tell what the email is about and whether they need to look at it any time soon. Depending on their job, some people get hundreds or thousands of emails a day, and they need to be able to tell at a glance whether an email is important to them.

When emailing someone particularly at another organization with a question, I will often use "Inquiry" or "Question" in the subject line. depending on industry standards, you may also use something like RFI (request for information).

If you want to be clear on why exactly you're sending an email, it is the standard in some industries to start your email with For Action: or For [Reason]: (e.g., For Review:, For Situational Awareness:). I generally only include that in emails staying within my organization, but depending on how well you know whoever you're emailing, you may or may not feel comfortable to do that outside of your organization.

You may not need to be that prescriptive in your email subject lines. if I'm emailing someone about tuition assistance, I might just use the subject "Tuition Assistance."

The salutation

How you address the person sets the tone of the entire email. A lot of this has to do with industry standards and the level of formality you're trying to convey.

At my organization, the explicitly-stated expectation is that you will address everyone, regardless of level, by their first name. If I got an email from someone at my organization referring to me by Ms. [Surname] I would be immediately confused and suspicious.

When emailing agents or addressing them in query letters, it seems like the expectation is often to use their first name--but you should always check, in case they specifically say they want to be referred to in some other way.

When emailing someone with an industry-specific title (professor, doctor, military or law enforcement) it's often your best bet to start with their title. You should make sure you know how to properly abbreviate them, if you do that--the same military rank, for example, is abbreviated differently depending on the service (e.g., Second Lieutenant is abbreviated 2LT, 2ndLt, and 2d Lt).

As you become closer to them, you may start to address them by their first name--but not necessarily.

Also some people/industries prefer "Hi" while others prefer "Dear". if you're really not sure, I've found that defaulting to "Good morning" or "Good afternoon" is often an easy workaround.

The body

Organize the body of the email so the most important information is clear, easy to find, and unambiguous. I frequently use bullets and/or tables in my emails. I also use strategic bolding and underlining, especially for due dates or specific asks.

If you don't know the person or they won't understand why you're the one emailing them about the thing, it can help to introduce yourself. If you're going to do so, keep it short and focus on the key info (e.g., "I am part of x team and am reaching out to you because of y").

If you think your email is too long, it probably is.

The closing

I recommend finding a closing that works for you and stick with it. What I see most commonly are Best, Regards, Best Regards, or Sincerely, but you have a good deal of flexibility here. (I use Regards.)

You should also consider whether to sign off with your first name, full name, or full name + title. I use first name because my signature has my full name.

The signature

Most (all?) email service providers let you set a default signature. My organization has a very prescriptive signature block, so for my work email I just use that.

If you don't have that, I recommend some version of

Full Name Organizational Title Organization

#professional writing #emails

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sasquatchandleatherjacket · 5 months ago

Note

hi I do not want to overstep, but I work in financial aid and this year has been horrific to students and their families. I saw your post in the fafsa tag about tuition, and it is unacceptable that it is 2 weeks out from the bill being due and you don't have your offer.

a few things -- if that offer comes back and it is too low, you have the right to appeal the award amount (do you have educational tax credits, student loans you're repaying, grandparents you support financially, regular medical bills, etc that the office did not consider?). You might be able to request an extension on the bill's payment due to the lack of the letter.

if there are no late fees for paying the bill, then you might be able to hold on paying until you get your award letter and are able to evaluate the actual offer. Payment plans can help you spread out payments in chunks of 3,4,5 etc.

You can ask about deferring attendance, in the worst-case scenario.

Wishing you and your kid the best!!

Hi kind anonymous friend! I am ASTOUNDED at how messed up things are this year and honest to god think some kind of class action against General Dynamics is called for!! Or a senate hearing or something.

Thanks for the advice! I have reached out to the bursars office to inquire about payment deadline extensions and etc and am waiting to hear back.

TODAY we received a message that the noncustodial parent waiver we submitted months ago was rejected… which is just WILD and all but guarantees we will not have an aid package before classes start. The VERY INCREDIBLY HELPFUL email did not say WHY it was rejected, lol, so like, waiting to hear back about that too. (If you have any insight on what supporting documentation I can submit to prove that my ex left the country 10 years ago and we are unable to contact him that would be great😅).

Anyway, payment is due the 8th and move in is the 21st and we FULLY don’t know how much aid we’ll get or if we’ll get ANY which is absolutely bonkers and terrifying and I haven’t had a good nights sleep in weeks.

Anon I can only imagine how much this sucks for those of you working in financial aid offices, I hope you are taking care of yourself and that it hasn’t been too terrible!

#literally heads should be ROLLING over this but with everything going on in American politics I know this is under the fold news #fafsa #financial aid #whyyyy my kids first choice school had to be one of the ones with the noncustodial parent requirement is just PERFECT #like ‘sorry kid your dad abandoned you so we can’t grant any aid lol sucks to suck’#‘also please pay us $40000 in one week for the first semester’

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nowoyas · 2 years ago

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Edible Arrangements 31

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: FORMATTING THIS FOR MIDNIGHT FROM AT 11:53 PM YEET

Chapter Summary: January flies by as you begin a new semester. Izuku falls deeper and deeper. You begin to fear you may never pull him out.

Warnings: off-screen minor character death, murder talk, blood

Word count: ~3300 words

January comes like an old friend, the cold biting, the snow settling over the house and the lawn in a gentle, untouched blanket. Izuku has spent most of it—all of it, except for when you drag him out somewhere—inside, focusing on grading, on work, until the exact moment he can break away to his real project of the day:

The Fucking Death Adder.

("Fucking" is not part of the man's serial killer alias, but it might as well be for how Izuku thinks of him.)

Four days into January had woven the threads Izuku had been collecting into a dead end. Nothing seemed to be happening anywhere—had the man gotten injured and was recovering? Or had he decided to lay low in light of too much attention? It couldn't be that he knew Izuku was getting closer—his habits hadn't changed except for you. Still he spent his time inside, squashing the occasional media request from a desperate journalist who still remembered his past and focusing more on his students than on things like getting an appropriate amount of sunlight for a vampire or remembering to drink. Still he isolated himself. Still he appeared to research, and teach, and teach, and research.

He wants to be grateful for his time spent studying languages, but his decent Russian only gives him enough to know that the news site he's scouring has nothing to say about mysterious murders matching the description. Neither does any of the others—in other words, just as much information as he had before. The man could be anywhere, and here Izuku is, sitting still.

Sitting still and waiting.

It is with great displeasure that I must inform you that suffering does not come to an end. Not even minor sufferings, or medium-strength sufferings that beg you for a steady supply of extra-strength Tylenol.

Or, in this case, not only one familiar face, but two, the first sitting just across the aisle from you in a bigass auditorium in a too-cold building on campus so that you’re stuck shivering with an arm not yet healed enough to make long sleeves comfortable.

Blond hair and a resting annoyance face.

Further ahead, towards the front of the room (you think making a point not to turn around and be forced to acknowledge Neito’s presence) is a head of fiery hair. It seems Itsuka and Neito still aren’t getting along. (Did they ever?)

Neito waves at you. You consider dropping out of college.

(If Izuku weren’t now also paying your tuition, too, you might.)

(You should really consider getting a job.)

On the bright side, suffering comes with good things! On Tuesday, there Mina is, TA’ing your general education credits-mandated dance class! When class lets out, you hang around and walk out of the building together.

“You didn’t intentionally take my class, did you?” she teases, eyes playfully narrow.

You snort. “No way. How do you even TA for dance? Gonna be grading papers this semester? Proctoring dance exams?”

“Oh, totally. For sure. Definitely.”

You check your phone. For the millionth time since New Year’s.

“You good?” she peeks at you.

You shrug. “I just… Did Tenya happen to mention why…”

“Oh. That. He hasn’t said anything… maybe ask Tsuyu? I know she and Tenya have been hanging out, like, constantly.”

Something in you twitches in discomfort. You can’t place it—why should you care? They’re your friends. If anything, you’re pleased that for once, people are getting along, seeing as how you tend to collect people who are incompatible on a fundamental level. (Case in point: Tenya and Izuku. Case in point: Neito and half of your friends.)

(Whether Neito counts is debatable.)

So you’re glad, really. And you don’t care! You don’t have a reason to care about something like that!

“Since when?” you ask.

(Dammit.)

“Since New Year’s, I think. Chalk it up to bonding over not being drunk at the party, I guess.”

“If only that worked.” You force a smile. It comes too easy to you. Why do you have to force it? “And yet the usual two are still at each other’s throats.”

She snorts. “Got that right. I’m not sure you’re ever getting those two to agree on anything, sorry.”

“Haha, yeah.”

(God, you really just said “haha” out loud.)

(It’s worse than you thought.)

Mina arches a brow your way. You hate her nose for these things. Ear. Whatever. She should take a journalism course and leave you to not acknowledge your problems. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong. I think I’m just stressed. You know, all the classwork, and I didn’t really get any rest over the break, and—“

“Oh?” Her voice drops low, teasing. “What were you up to?”

You roll your eyes, batting at her shoulder. “Shush. I was doing some personal research.”

“On what? Vampire anatomy?”

“I’ll bite you.”

“Go for it. Bite your hot landlord first, though!”

“Oh fuck you,” you reply, though there’s no bite to your words and you both know it.

She smiles. “There’s [name]! You were getting all gloomy there for a bit.”

“Was I?” You tilt your head. Maybe you were. It’s already slipping away, though. Fuck, are you experiencing mood swings? Do you need to call up your old therapist? “Weird. I already can’t remember.”

She hums suspiciously. “You’re a good actor, though…”

“Really!” You take on a mocking tone. “You just make everything unimportant slip away, my dearest—“

Now she’s laughing and hitting your arm.

Whatever it was, it’s gone, and with it, the pair of you go, too.

Neito to [name] at 3:47PM

Neito: You probably don’t care, but I wanted to tell you:

Neito: I called the number for the therapist you gave me.

[name]: that’s great!

[name]: like, genuinely

Neito: Regrettably, it seems that I’ve been put on a waitlist. Who knows when she’ll actually be available, but I thought I’d tell you

[name]: oof

[name]: that sucks

[name]: she’s totally great though. worth the wait

Neito: I sure hope so. You said she’s good with trauma-type things, right?

[name]: oh yeah totally

[name]: did I ever tell you my roomate freshman year stabbed me?

[name]: *roommate

Neito: she WHAT

[name]: right? it was totally out of nowhere

[name]: yeah apparently a girl with a transformation quirk totally replaced my roommate for no reason

[name]: like my roommate was just a random sort because I didn't really have any friends to room with so we'd never met or anything

[name]: anyways so she was dead before we ever met afaik shit was wild

[name]: some other stuff went on around that time too so I just bucked up and forewent some meals to pay for therapy lmao

[name]: all that to say doc fuyumi's great! aside from the scar it's like it never happened lmaoooo

Neito: well, that's a rave review if I've ever heard one

Neito: but are you just like a magnet for trouble or something?

[name]: hey, that's not nice

[name]: apparently I'm ALSO a magnet for vampires, thank you very much

Neito: I'm sorry but I'm failing to notice a difference

You roll your eyes and pocket your phone. You're sort of hoping your troubling vampire magnet tendencies will help you find the answers Izuku's looking for. Best not to curse it.

The time flies on. Maybe it's your nose being in so many books and classwork, maybe it's the looming presence of your lack of a job (completely for lack of trying, mind you) in the background of everything, but it flies.

(Izuku's no longer sure what day it is, let alone the time. He's trying, really! But sometimes things are more important than sunlight and keeping regular schedules, and Sbeve is good at reminding him to eat every now and then. So if he sleeps at his desk more nights than not these days, that's between him and his desk.)

And then, as January melts into February, you check your email on your way in the door after class. It's an absent scroll—you're worried about a paper draft for your Quirk Genetics course; you've been checking for a notification of the feedback obsessively every day since you submitted it. You've been working hard on this paper, dammit, and—

(He's replying to an email from a student. Run of the mill questions, but he's sure they just missed the line in the syllabus they need. No big deal! A quick reply, and—)

Anyways, that's not the issue, not really.

(His fingers still on the keyboard, head tilted in confusion.)

The issue is that, as always, the house is eerily silent. Some days it's been like you lived alone in this mansion. You hate it—not because Izuku can't spend his time doing as he wishes, or because you're finding that the meals you've grown used to just having have started trickling out, but because Izuku is steadily growing worse along with it. You can barely count how many times you’ve had to remind him to feed, how often you have to drag him away from his damned desk to make sure he sleeps and dresses himself.

(His desk phone is ringing, the one intended for work calls. His desk phone never rings. Of course he picks up—he's got tunnel vision, but he's still doing his job! It's probably just a matter of something his colleagues need to know. Not a big deal, either!)

(If his hands twitch with nerves and his eyes skim a news article on his second screen as he picks up the phone, that’s between him and Sbeve.)

And you've tried to help! You have! But there's only so much you can do when the man doesn't even look for information in a language you speak half the time. It's shit like Russian, which admittedly is extremely cool but completely unintelligible to you!

(Whatever he had been typing is gone from his brain. The words on either screen are gone.)

But still.

(Dr. Midoriya? Are you there?)

The mansion's silence feels heavier than usual.

(“No, no!” he replies, voice strained. “Yeah. No. Sorry. Just… yeah. You get it.”)

(I do. No one’s gonna blame you if you take a day or two off work, you know.)

(He navigates to a new tab and pulls up his email. He’s got someone to contact. “Oh, I won’t be doing that. Can’t fall behind, you know? But I’ll give the poor kids a day off. Uh, yeah.”)

You set down your bag and scroll back through your emails, searching for any point of interest. Feedback, or a new assignment, anything to keep your mind off of how useless you're being while Izuku falls deeper into tracking a serial killer who might be dead by now anyway.

(“Does anyone know yet?”)

(The chancellor sent out the memorial email earlier. Depends how many have checked their email, I guess.)

Your breath hitches on the words "In Memoriam" in your inbox.

from: [email protected]

A message from the Chancellor

February 2nd, 2051

Fellow Ravens,

I am deeply saddened to inform you about the loss of one of our Senior students, Momo Yaoyorozu, an undergraduate student completing a degree in Biochemistry.

Momo was an exceptionally bright student. In addition to her work in the International Honors College, she worked in the KUC as a tutor, offering her expertise to all students in many fields. She participated in the university debate club and has won many awards in the College Bowl since her beginning at the school. Momo had accepted an offer to join a Master’s program with Ossenfelder beginning in the fall, furthering her education in biochemistry.

Our thoughts now are with Momo’s friends and family, those who cared for and loved her, and other Ravens who are touched by this loss.

Visitation for Momo will be held from 7:00-9:00 PM Saturday, February 11th, at Respite Funeral Home, 48th Street. A memorial celebration will take place at 5:30 PM Monday, February 6th, in front of the Kevin University Center.

The U of O Counselling Center can provide support to any students and other members of the campus community affected by the loss of Momo. The Dean of Students Office may also be a useful support resource for students and may be reached during hours Monday through Friday.

Sincerely,

Shouto Todoroki

Chancellor

There’s a bliss that comes with this. You’ve known it since the first bite, and you’ll know it to the last. In the time following a fresh bite, your mind is clear, your emotions lulled, the waters calm ahead. You’d like to think that it somehow soothes Izuku, too, to drink from you like this. He needs it, of course. Idiot’s been forgetting.

He pulls back, buries his face in your freshly-bitten neck. His exhale is heavy, but no heavier than yours, which comes out more tired sigh than you’d have liked. If you’re holding him too tight, if he’s holding you too tight, well, you’re both used to that.

“Did you know a Momo Yaoyorozu at the university?” he mumbles eventually, and you still.

“I was trying to convince myself I didn’t,” you admit, voice already creaking with tears. “She was one of my TAs last spring.”

His words come slow, halting, haunting. “They aren’t publicizing the circumstances around her death out of respect for the family. Those of us on faculty have been told to keep a close watch on all of our students for the rest of the term.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—“ He pulls away, stares you dead in the eyes so you know he’s serious. “They think she was killed. Her family had a lot of money, but we can’t rule out other motives if she was killed. The police want to question any of her professors, in case they know anything.”

Your blood hasn’t warmed since you first read the email. This doesn’t warm it now. “Did—did they say why they think it was a murder?”

He stares for a second, eyes hard, and then looks away. “She was in one of my classes. I don’t know when they’re coming, but just in case, you should cover your arm and your neck.”

“What? You don’t think—“

He sighs. “If it is what I think it is, then it’d be best if they didn’t see me living alone in a massive house with someone covered in the same kind of wounds as the murdered student.”

Your eyes are blown wide as you nod. “Right! Yeah, of course!”

He smiles, drops his head against your shoulder again for a moment. “Thank you. Now let me deal with those wounds.”

He pulls out his usual bandages—these ones covered in tiny, smiling bats—and smooths them over the bite marks as always. His thumbs linger on the edges, eyes somewhere far away.

“Izuku?”

“Be careful, okay? I-I won’t force you into anything, just… m-maybe stay in at night when you can for a little bit? Just in case?”

You let out a breathy, tiny laugh. “Yeah. I’ll be careful.”

The cops come, just as expected, two days later. You’ve got a scarf on, and long sleeves that scratch, but aren’t nearly as uncomfortable as you were expecting. Too bad you had to go almost the entire winter before you were able to wear long sleeves again.

When you answer the door, it’s two men—one who looks more detective than cop, and another who looks more cop than detective. “Good afternoon, there. We’re here looking to speak to a Dr. Midoriya Izuku. Does he live at this address?”

You nod, studying them closely. Given the tails on the more-cop one, you can guess that he’s just got an animal quirk. On the other… nothing jumps out at you. He looks perfectly normal. Nothing that would indicate a quirk at all. “Um, yeah. I think he’s in his office. If you’d like to come in, you can sit while I get him! But be warned, our cat bites.”

You lead them to the living room, let them sit on the sofa. Before they can thank you, you’re bounding off toward the stairs, careful to maintain a calm persona even though you know what you and Izuku both want out of this situation.

It’ll be rough trying to get it, especially without casting needless suspicion on fifty year-old baby-faced Izuku.

Cops probably expect a healthy amount of nerves, right? Polite smile, wide eyes? But Izuku would have obviously known they were coming and what for, and if you live here, of course you have an idea, and—

You’re overthinking it.

You poke your head into that damned hidden office, eyeing Izuku carefully. He’s looking better than he has in nearly a month, hair as untamed as always but clean, clothes that he definitely wasn’t wearing yesterday or the day before. If nothing else, thank fuck those cops didn’t give a specific date for when they’d show up. Izuku has been forced to pay at least a little attention to himself in the meantime, not knowing when he’d need to be presentable.

“’Zuku, it’s the cops,” you say, gentle. He’s easier to startle these days, too, with tired eyes and the occasional growl sent your way if you don’t telegraph your entrances enough. “C’mon, they’re here to talk to you.”

He raises his head with a resigned sigh. Even having planned for them to show up (you more extensively than Izuku… I think) he’s unprepared, dragging himself after you. You’re careful not to say anything strange, not knowing the quirks of the cops sitting on your living room couch. The cat one likely has better hearing than average; the normal guy? Anything’s fair game. Best not to chance it.

You split from Izuku as he greets the cops (“Good afternoon, g-gentlemen!” with only the slightest stutter) and poke your head in to ask about drinks. If you’re listening, if you leave your phone on the buffet with the recording app on, no one has to know.

Friendly chatting, quiet, forced laughter from both sides. The kind of laughter you would expect to hear from men talking about a dead girl—trying to be jovial in spite of awful circumstances. Failing, just a little bit. You’ve got drinks down in front of them soon enough—water, tea, and the most concentrated coffee you can manage for Izuku. (A sludge, really.)

You linger in the doorway to the kitchen, unsure of whether they want you out of the room or not. They don’t seem particularly bothered by your presence, but the normal guy flicks his eyes between you and Izuku as if trying to decipher something. You can’t place it until you do, and then it hits you in the chest.

You miscalculated.

It’s real nice to think about keeping suspicion off the uninvolved Izuku, lest they realize he’s in his fifties and connected to a very high-profile case, but—

I’ll be honest, her wounds were… strange… one of the men says from the other room. Almost like bite marks.

You stride back in, keeping up the pretense of chasing Sbeve. You scoop the little terror up, cuddling him to your chest and lingering behind Izuku.

“If possible, we’d also like to talk to your… um…” The normal guy has his eyes flicking between the pair of you again, confusion written on his face.

At once, you and Izuku are reaching for an explanation, because shit, yeah, doesn’t it look suspicious if the professor connected to the dead girl has a similarly-aged girl living in his secluded mansion for no apparent reason?

“Tenant!” you blurt. (“R-roommate!” Izuku yelps.) “He’s my landlord. I rent a room upstairs.”

(The visible relaxation on Normal Guy’s face makes you even more tense.)

“Uh, the name’s [name],” you follow up lamely.

He believes you. More than his cat-faced partner seems to. Easily, too. Completely and totally easily.

And that?

That stresses you out even more.

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#my fics #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader

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l1nghuarchive · 2 years ago

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HI THERE ASTRIE!!! I was browsing through ur blog when i realized. wait. i can request mystic messenger stuff???? WOH OMG????

Well as a die hard Yoosung simp, now i feel like ive been called upon by hatsune miku herself to request a Yoosung x reader where they dye their hair together (oneshots pspsps)

Ive never requested anything from u before, so feel free to decline this! and also. TAKE. UR. TIME. Idk if u know this from how i am on Amia's blog but. IF U ARENT TAKING CARE I WILL BE VV ANGRY >:( SO U BETTER NOT OVERWORK URSELF OR GRGRGRRRR

Pairing : Yoosung Kim x reader

Warnings : n/a (mention of rikas death ig?)

A/n : i actually took my time :') (1 week+) hope you enjoy this tho!! Btw you are NOT the mc and instead a college friend of yoosung.

COLLEGE was rather… Stressful to say the least, with you entering one of the best universities out in Korea you expected yourself to always do good in your studies and that is what you did. Though, you didn't expect yourself to befriend one of your classmates who didn't really enjoy studying as much which really made you wonder how he even got into SKY University perhaps by luck? But yet you heard that Yoosung got in with a scholarship and is going to be working for the corporate heir Jumin Han, of course silently you did envy him after all being on C&R's waiting list could only be achieved in your dreams..

You didn't expect to be dying your hair on the weekends where you could be studying for upcoming exams, well you didn't really have any choice with Yoosung's constant pleas. You both decided to dye your hair together since Yoosung's hair colour was fading as well,though your parents wouldn't have allowed you to dye your hair they aren't here to nag at you! So why not just live your life without the eyes of your parents?

You were lucky enough to convince your parents to pay for your tuition fees, after all you were a grown adult and should be finding a job instead of asking your parents for money. Though they did pay a crazy amount to get you in here, you still felt guilty for them spending so much on you.

Yoosung's voice awoken your train of thoughts before your vision cleared as you saw Yoosung snapping his fingers in front of you with a worried face.

"are you okay? You don't look too good.. I didn't put any hair dye on your eyes right!?!"

You shook your head before a calm smile on your face as both of you waited for your hair dye to dry, you weren't one for small chatter and often it was Yoosung who started conversations between you both though it was silent between you both it wasn't awkward at all and instead it just added to the calm atmosphere.

"So, how is RFA doing..? Do you perhaps plan on holding another party soon?"

You always refrained from talking about anything related to RFA after hearing that Yoosung's cousin had sadly passed away, comfort wasn't your strong suit but yet you still try and gave him encouraging words. Though you always wanted to attend a party held by the RFA and even if you got the chance, you knew it might clash with your studies after all you had always placed studies above all even when you were in high school. You never really went to parties, instead you were always cooped up in your own room reading or studying you technically weren't a loner. You still had friends but they weren't really in your inner circle and you only interacted with them when it was lunch.

You looked over to see Yoosung ranting about the new member of RFA with stars in his eyes, unknowingly a small smile dawned on your face for some reason your heart was slightly warm perhaps not used to this feeling of someone actually wanting to talk to you though you won't deny it isn't a good feeling.. You had always found yourself smiling and enjoying whenever Yoosung rants about his day or his games, was this what your books.. Call a crush?

Reqs are closed as of currently sorry! Likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciated tysm if u do any of those!

#yoosung #yoosung kim #yoosung x reader #yoosung headcanons #mystic messenger #mystic messeger headcanon #mystic messenger x reader #yoosung x mc #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger fanfiction

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classicquid · 1 year ago

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wavevisa001 · 2 months ago

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Top 5 Reasons for Study Permit Refusal and How to Avoid Them.

Applying for a Canadian study permit is an exciting step toward pursuing your dreams, but it’s crucial to avoid common mistakes that can lead to rejection. Here, we outline the top five reasons for study permit refusals and how Wave Visas Immigration can help you succeed.

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To secure a Canadian study permit, you must prove you can cover tuition, living expenses, and travel costs. The required funds for 2024 are at least CAD 20,635 for a single applicant outside Quebec, with additional amounts for dependents. Failing to provide adequate proof of funds or documentation can result in refusal.

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Add supplementary documents such as pay slips, employment details, or bank history for added credibility.

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Officers assess whether you’re likely to return to your home country after completing your studies. Weak evidence of ties to your home country may lead to refusal.

How to Avoid This Issue:

Showcase property ownership, family connections, or a stable job in your home country.

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Submit a detailed and accurate application to avoid processing delays.

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Since December 2023, Designated Learning Institutions (DLIs) must validate admission letters within 10 days of submission. Failure to validate the LOA in time will result in rejection.

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karansharma1993 · 2 years ago

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Reasons to Consider Personal Loan for Your Education Today

Education is a necessity for any child and is among the costliest commodities parents have to finance today. To reduce the chances of dropping out, students take personal loans for education that can help manage their general expenses in college. This is because the loan can be used to pay tuition fees and other expenses like food and accommodation. Students only need to find the right lender with agreeable repayment terms for the personal loan for education they take. Here are some benefits of signing up for these kinds of loans as a student today.

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People often ask for loans when facing a predicament or emergency. Lenders understand the urgency and seek to streamline the procedure further for you. They only ask you to avail few legitimate documents, for instance identity cards, employment proof, address proof, and pay slips. The reduced documentation makes the whole procedure hassle-free as approval only takes a few hours to days. You should note that documentation like address proof only seek to prove your residence as no collaterals are collected during such by these types of lenders.

Disbursed within a reasonable time

The process of applying for personal loans for higher education from banks is becoming more complicated as the years go by. Besides increased documentation and scrutiny, the disbursement period could take forever causing delays for those with urgencies. This is not the case when you use friendly lenders for these types of loans. By finding the right ones to borrow from, you enjoy immediate disbursement once your request is approved. Since no collateral or initial deposit is needed, you are set to pay your fee upfront among other expenses that students deal with.

Access to high loan amounts

Personal loan for education happens to be one of the loan options with higher limits. Students can apply for these kinds of loans to cope with the high tuition fee charged. The loan limits are also high to help students cater to their general life in school besides the tuition cost. With reduced financial burdens to handle, they can fully focus on their education as they draw towards the ideal monthly payments to make to the lender. Choosing an affordable lender will help you go through the repayment period stress-free.

Conclusion Inflation has largely affected the education and medical sector which are termed as basic needs today. Simplified above are the real reasons why taking a personal loan for education will be of great benefit to you.

#personal loan for education #education loan

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vargskelegore · 2 years ago

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heyoo!! could we get a fic where transfer student!shuri realizes u mostly eat struggle meals like ramen n the occasional hamburger helper n since you feel bad abt her taking you out to eat a decent meal everyday she learns how to cook w you 💪🏾

author's note: NO BECAUSE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO CUTE. i'm always eating a damn struggle meal so this is relatable af. ramen gang for the win tho.

cake boss, who? - hbcu!shuri x black!reader

requests: open to headcanons & imagines!

on campus, for lunch, you usually ate ramen. no, not maruchan-- that shit was below your standards. nongshim. the more superior budget ramen. although, even that shit wasn’t really healthy for you.

it was a common experience-- being a college student and being broke since you were either unemployed, or your job paid so bad you might as well be unemployed.

you were lucky that sometimes your rich roommate would pay for you to eat because she wanted to- but since she was always gone, going on dates with random dudes on campus, it wasn’t often you ate something she got you.

honestly, shuri took you out to eat more times than you could count (AS FRIENDS.... i guess?), but you felt really bad about taking her money and food all the time. it wasn’t like they were michelin star restaurants, just stuff like ihop, waffle house, panera bread.. they were luxury to you, though.

on one of the days you were cooking shin ramyun, there was a familiar knock on your door. shuri. shuri developed this knock based off of drum beats they would do back in her home country, and it was something she did on your door to remind herself of home, and also let you know her arrival.

“the door is open!” you called out, attempting to keep the amount of smoke down because if you even had it float a little too high, that alarm was gonna get you, and your cooking in the dorm days would be over.

as soon as shuri walked in, she could smell you cooking the same thing, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

“every time i walk in here, not only are you cooking, it’s always that high sodium trash.” shuri looked around the room as she walked inside.

“yeah well, it’s at the local neighborhood walmart, and it’s like six bucks for a pack of them.” you shrugged as you pushed the noodles around with your chopsticks.

“..is the meals i get you not enough?” there was a hint of panic in shuri’s voice -- one thing about her was that she always tried hard, but for you, she went beyond that. she wasn’t exactly sure why she was like that.

noticing what shuri said, you cut her off so quick. “no! i love the places you take me, but.. i don’t want you to spend money on me like that..” your voice got quiet at the end, and that’s when shuri walked over to you, staring down at you.

“nonsense, it’s barely anything.. i’m willing to spend enough to keep you well fed. i think it’s stupid how american university tuition just uses up so much money that you have to live off of cheaply made factory food.” shuri could go on a rant about this, and you could tell she had been bottling that opinion up for a while.

“i don’t disagree, but this is my life, shuri.” you sighed in defeat as you turned around to drain the water.

shuri got directly behind you, hands in her pockets. when you turned back around, you were met with her being right in front of you.

“then let me try something different. let’s cook together.” there was hope in her voice as she stared down at you. your hand, which was being occupied by your ramen pot, slightly began shaking.

“i, uh..”

“please? i think you can make a good meal without using so much money, if that’s what you’re worried about.” her voice was gentle, and god, how could you say no to that voice? hell, it was practically begging.

after a moment of silence, you nodded.

shuri’s face lit up as she took the pot from your hand, pouring the sauceless noodles into the trash. you were a bit shocked that she did that so quickly.

“shuri, that was my lunch--!”

“hush, we’re gonna make a better lunch together.”

ever since that moment, you two started making food together. learning how to cook cheap and tasty food was a bit of a challenge, but you both managed to deal with it.

you two made everything together. pasta, soup, fancy ass sandwiches, and so much more. for you, seeing shuri in an apron when you guys were baking was the cutest thing ever.

powder all over her face, squealing when a certain ingredient got all over her. it was adorable and it melted your heart.

there was nothing more you enjoyed than the company of shuri.

on one of the days you two were baking, you both decided to bake a cake this time. nobody told y'all it would take a while, but honestly, that was probably because you two were goofing off instead of baking which made it take longer.

as you were mixing the buttercream frosting mixture together, shuri sighed in annoyance.

"crap, i forgot my phone.. i'm gonna go get it, i'll be right back. don't eat the frosting. i'm serious."

you held your hands up in surrender before nodding. mentally you were smirking, because you were gonna eat it anyway.

as soon as she left, you waited about 20 seconds before sticking your finger into the bowl and taking a taste.

a few tastes turned into more tastes. and more. but it wasn't enough to make it look like it wasn't enough for icing.

as soon as you could hear shuri coming back, you immediately went back to mixing, whistling a bit as you didn't acknowledge her presence out of guilt of eating it.

"..y/n? i'm back." shuri raised an eyebrow at you as she walked back over to where she originally was.

you hummed before muttering out a quick "hi." and went back to doing what you were doing.

shuri, being the suspicious person she was, crossed her arms and just stared at you. you could feel her stare but you tried so hard to make it seem like you didn't care.

"y/n. turn around for me, real quick?"

"but i'm mixing.. i can't get distracted." you lied, realizing your once rhythm on mixing suddenly became very irregular.

shuri didn't say a word before pulling you from the mixing station and over to where she was standing. you tried covering your face, but she was quick to make you uncover.

that's when she saw it.

she brought a thumb to your face, wiping off something on the corner of your mouth, and licking it off her own thumb.

"that tastes really good, but damn, y/n, you could've lied a little better, no?" it was icing. she had a teasing grin on her face as she watched you become visibly embarrassed. all she could do was laugh as she went to grab the frosting and begin icing the cake.

you were stunned, to say the least. what were you gonna do with this girl?

#sam is obsessed with shuri #sam answers asks #hbcu!shuri #shuri udaku x reader #shuri x reader #black reader #imagine

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