#they were playing music while working and i come in

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N���s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

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

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

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

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

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

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

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

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

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

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

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

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

11:14am you: or be square?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have to close your eyes though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods at you in approval.

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

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

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

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

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

And then the kickoff starts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1-1, even match.

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

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

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

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

2-1, UTokyo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3-1, UTokyo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head and wait for his response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you can do is watch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

H–

Huh?!?!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the halftime timer is up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3-2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

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

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

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

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

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

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

And the ball lands in the net. 

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

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

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

The referee chirps his whistle. 

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

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

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

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

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

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

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

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

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

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

➸ you're all caught up!

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

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

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

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

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

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

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

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

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

[heegyukeluv]

the devil wears prada (sjy)

pairing: idol!jake x afab!reader

synopsis: As Sim Jaeyun stepped out of Prada’s after party, everyone ignored his goodbyes to the sea of paparazzis, because the buzz was about the lucky person who got to disheveled his hair. Jake’s honest answer for that was: the devil. And she for sure wears Prada.

my's note: i love how everyone saw Jake’s after-party photos and thought the same thing (i'm everyone). disheveled hair jake after-party prada that’s all. and i just realized i don’t know how to write a quickie lol enjoy <3 (please take into consideration this is a work of fiction, this doesn't represents the artist's image)

warnings: SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, quickie but not really, public (?) bathroom sex, mirror sex, reader is quite dom with jake (i can't help myself), mention of alcohol. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 5.4k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

The air was thick with the scent of luxury – champagne and expensive perfumes mingling with the buzz of the conversations in every corner of the room.

You had your back leaning against the marble counter of the bar, fingers nonchalantly tracing the edge of your vibrant drink and eyes drifting through the sea of people. Everyone was dressed to impress, each guest showcasing their creativity through Prada’s clothes, accessories and shoes.

Working in the fashion industry came with perks, and being invited to exclusive after-parties was undoubtedly the best one. So you weren’t a stranger to this world. The glamourist atmosphere, the music playing as a soft background, the dim lights casting a perfect blend of elegance and casualness over the place.

It made your body shiver with joy, fulfillment at its most filling your chest, as the surroundings seemed to confirm what you already knew: you were in the right place – your place.

Earlier, at the main event, you watched the showcase with sparkling eyes, recording specific moments to use later as inspiration for your own creativity process. You loved how free you could be with your ideas while doing your work, not to mention the possibility of adding tons of yourself to it. Some might call it an egoistic behavior, as if your job existed solely for your own satisfaction. But the creation was yours, so why shouldn’t the outcome be about you too?

You took another sip of your drink, your sharp gaze scanning the room.

As soon as you stepped at the after-party, many other designers and some artists approached to compliment both your visual and your work, and you confidently talked with them. Yet, coming not from one, but from a few of them, there was an underlying tone; their praises were not solely aimed at your outfit or your impeccable creations, but rather an attempt to carve a path to your heart – or, perhaps, under your dress.

You never denied you had a good appearance. Together with your sense of style and your fearless demeanor, you enchanted anyone who crossed your way. The badass woman aura you exhaled was almost palpable and extremely hot for those who watched – with heart and lustful eyes – as you passed by.

Despite the usual lingering intense gazes on you, far from feeling intimidated or even shy by them, there was one pair of eyes burning deeper, piquing your curiosity as you kept on searching for its owner. 

It was like you every motion was being captured by them, following you across the room, and no matter how many conversations you effortlessly maneuvered through, all you could feel was the constant, intense weight of the said gaze.

After one more drink and some uninterested noddings at the guy who took place near you at the bar, you finally found him.

Sitting on the middle sofas of the main room, drink in hand, together with his group, devil eyes staring at you shamelessly, biting his lip and looking extremely hot as doing so.

You quirked an eyebrow in his direction, not even bothering to follow the bla-bla-bla coming from the random guy anymore, his words sounding like nothing to you at that point.

Especially because the attractive man looking at you didn’t even flinch after getting caught, as if it was the purpose from the beginning. If anything, he deepened eye contact in a daring, cocky manner, almost challenging you to react over the tension that started to hang in the air between you two.

Unlucky to him, you weren’t the type to follow anyone’s lead but yours, so you simply let out a soft scoff, a smirk tugging at your lips as you deliberately took another sip of your drink without breaking the new unspoken game – the one you were sure you would win.

You observed closely how he drifted his gaze away from yours just to blatantly check you out, stopping on your bare thighs for a moment before doing the same on your exposed chest, the neckline of your dress giving the perfect bait for men like him.

He shifted on his seat, gulping and then assaulting his lower lip with his teeth once more, as if trying to contain himself from running all the way to you, just to undress you properly instead of keep on doing that with his glare. 

You would be lying if you said that his demeanor wasn’t helping to ignite the fire from your core to your entire body, skin heating with a hint of desire. Even so, you waited patiently.

The random designer talking to you was long gone already, though you barely noticed, unnecessarily engrossed in your little game.

With a subtle, innocent tilt of your chin, you motioned your head slowly as a signal, beckoning him to come closer, without breaking eye contact. The simple gesture caught him off guard; his confident atmosphere stumbling to keep itself up, eyes growing wide in surprise, and you found it irresistibly adorable.

The corner of your lips curled when he stood up after whispering something to one of his friends, who quickly glanced at you and then showed a small smile. You finished your drink as he made his way over, his steps relaxed, but his eyes avoiding yours. You almost chuckled at the endearing scene.

As he approached, you noticed how young he seemed to be, perhaps even younger than you. Not to mention his incredible inebriating fragrance and self beauty – the plump pink lips and the high bridge nose perfectly sculpted doing things to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes straightaway dropping to your exposed neckline, lingering on the curve of your chest.

You leaned in just slightly, making sure he got a better view, batting your lashes with a sly smile. “Hey.”

Without asking for your preference, he ordered two drinks. You decided to let it slide for now – being surprised could be fun every now and then, and maybe accepting his drinks could be one of the keys to get something more.

“You’ve been turning heads all night.” He finally said after a while, the hot, aussie accent didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your body heat increased as an immediate response. 

As you tilted your head slightly, letting a small smile play on your lips, you smoothly replied with faux innocence. “Have I?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, thanking the bartender for the drink as he handed you one, oblivious of the rhetorical question. Your smile widened. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/N,” you politically extended your hand, eyes sharp on his face. His grip was hesitant, and the moment your fingers touched, an unexpected jolt of electricity shot through your body. You suppressed a slight shiver.

“Jake,” he introduced himself, caring little to nothing about showing how affected he got just by feeling your soft palm on his.

His breath hitched, getting caught on his throat as his eyes darkened. He couldn’t help but think about how your touch would feel elsewhere on his body.

The excitement flooded your chest instantly, you had to hold back yourself because you realized that if you wanted – and you so did – those perfect lips would be attached to yours in no time, and if you were lucky enough, they would be exploring other parts of your body as well.

“Nice meeting you, Jake.” You murmured, pronouncing his name with your most velvety voice, slowly pulling your hand away to grab your drink from the counter, sipping it.

Jake tracked your deliberate movements, wetting his slightly parted lips when he saw your red lipstick staining on the glass edge, utterly in disbelief he simply discovered someone who definitely came out from his wettest dreams, who would turn the smallest, innocent gesture into something sensual.

Even the simple act of blinking in his direction seemed meticulously calculated to make it hard to resist your advances, fueling the growing tightness inside his pants.

Not to mention how sexy his name rolled out of your beautifully tinted lips. 

Jake leaned his arms on the marble counter, turning his head to keep on watching you, as if your presence were an alluring, tempting show, happening right in front of his eyes just to damage his weak heart.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He blurted out shamelessly, shattering the ‘cool’ facade he was trying to maintain under your intense gaze.

There was something about how sincere, seductive, and yet, desperate he sounded, as if his greatest longing in life was to have you right away. You were enjoying that guy so much so far. 

“I’ve noticed,” you chuckled with your eyes brimming with flirtation, shifting between his plush, kissable lips and his desire-filled orbs. “And are you planning to keep just looking?”

Jake blinked, momentarily taken aback with your quick and direct response. Although you had an obvious confident aura radiating through your pores, he definitely didn't expect you to be so straight to the point, thinking he would have to ease things a bit more.

And honestly? He found your vibe more exciting than he would like to admit. 

“I guess that depends on what you want,” he answered, voice dropping a tone, trying to match the energy you exuded.

Ignoring the chills running through your spine by his low murmur, you softly chuckled and leaned back against the bar, gaze still locked with his.

“Oh, Jake,” you teasingly cooed, grinning, with your voice dripping with amusement, “I always get what I want.”

It was visibly apparent how your words ignited something on his body, perking up in anticipation while his eyes deepened and his jaw clenched; if you looked close enough, you would see the slight bulge in his crotch area. 

Jake straightened his posture, finishing his drink in one go without breaking eye contact, hooded eyelids offering you the most magnetic sight you saw that night until that moment.

Then he leaned in closer, the tension between you two increasing with every heartbeat. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he whispered in your ear, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face.

As he walked towards the restroom area, his confident stride only added to the thrill. Men would be promising you the best night of your life just to leave you hanging and dealing with your situation alone. However, Jake seemed to exude an air of boldness blended perfectly with devotion, making a rush of anticipation bubbling in your core.

You let out a small laugh, not even caring about finishing your drink. The thrilling game had just started and you were so ready to play.

Jake’s lips tasted like heaven. And fancy liquor.

His hands were everywhere, but mainly on your ass and neck, his desperation evident by the way he pressed your back into the cold wall, sucking your lips as if his life depended on it.  

After following his traces, feigning indifference as best as you could to the open public, it took mere seconds before you felt his strong grasp on your hips guiding you into the bathroom – fortunately, they had private, separated spaces, making it easier for the two of you to steal as much privacy as the party allowed.

You could hear the muffled hum of the songs playing as a background, merging with the lewd sounds from the messy, hungry kiss you both shared and the soft groans rumbling from Jake’s throat as well.

Just minutes ago your plans were completely different; just some kisses and calling it a night, definitely not imagining things going further than that. However, the way Jake’s mouth skilfully moved against yours made you wonder how good it would feel in other places of your body, like in between your legs, and you just had to give it a chance.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, barely breaking the contact, lips already swollen and reddened due to your lipstick and your not so gentle bites. 

You hummed in response, unable to form proper words about how amazing of a job he was doing just by kissing you. 

Your fingers tangled in his silky brown hair, tugging without restraint because you quickly realized how much Jake liked it. He moaned, lips parting against yours with the intensity of the pull, your hazed gaze catching a quick glimpse of his eyes rolling back – an extremely devilish view.

Although stumbling a bit, Jake managed to easily place you at the edge of the sink’s counter by lifting you firmly gripping your thighs, the feeling alone making you wince as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support.

The room seemed to shrink as your breaths quickened, the boiling sensation bubbling in your stomach as you anticipated for more of his intense, heated, passionate touches. 

Jake, just as breathless, decided to assault the flesh of your neck and exposed collarbone, getting drunk on your scent and softness as he did so, loving how you tilted your head just enough to give him some more access to explore.

A soft moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened on his hair when he nibbled your sensitive spot, close to your earlobe, sending jolts of electricity directly to your pussy.

You could feel a smirk creeping into his mouth, right before he questioned teasingly, slowly sucking the area. “Do you like that?”

You fought to keep your composure, a soft smile threatening to break through as the heat blossomed in your core. His breath tickled your skin, deliberately waiting for your answer while igniting every inch of you by keeping on playing on that spot. 

The first reaction you gave was another moan together with your nails digging on his shoulders and scratching his scalp. Then you admitted, still struggling to hold yourself back. “Fuck, yes. I do.” 

Jake cooed at you, gently pulling away from the curve of your neck to study your dazed expression; lips agape releasing heavy breaths, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink and eyes half-lidded, fluttering slowly, still dripping in the same confidence you once carried, as if even under his lead you were the one commanding.

“You look hot and messy, and I haven’t even started yet.” Jake teased, a playful smile gracing his lips as he pressed them against yours again.

“Do you always talk that much?” You murmured, not quite intending to judge his demeanor, but a bit annoyed and amused by how he appeared to need to hear you frequently while savoring you. 

“Only when I'm nervous.” Jake answered honestly with an awkward chuckle, helping you to remove his jacket, which landed straight on the ground and he couldn’t care less.  

“Oh, do I make you nervous Jakey?” You smirked, thirsting over his now exposed veiny arms. 

Watching Jake’s cheeks being painted with a faint blush while he swallowed hard under your sharp gaze, clearly getting flustered, brought back the control you thought was lost. 

“Maybe a little,” Jake tried to play it cool, but his voice came out smaller than he expected, and he tried to avoid facing you by leaning to kiss you again.

A glint of mischief sparkled in your eyes when you noticed he was losing his composure. You kindly held his head still, forcing him to keep his gaze on you. “Aw, come on, Jakey. Don’t shy away now,” you said, a smooth voice layered with playfulness and a sultry, almost mocking undertone. “You haven’t even started yet, isn’t that right?” 

Jake nearly moaned when he heard your words, not because of them itself but by how hot you sounded. His cock throbbed painfully inside his pants, his underwear probably stained with his leaking precum at that point. 

Jake got fooled at some moment by thinking he was the one in charge, even provoking you while exploring your desires initially, but the reality was that he had been following your lead like a lost puppy all along. 

There was something about how confident and dominant you seemed to be since the beginning, not faltering a single moment to his boldness, and somehow you carried that still, assuming the control gracefully, as if it was your job. And Jake was very grateful for you doing so.

His eyes softened and his breath hitched. 

“Tell me, what do you want from me?” The question slipped from his plush, beautiful lips, laced with desire and a touch of vulnerability without much cohesive thinking, clouded mind craving to satisfy you, because that meant his own fulfillment. “I wanna give you everything.”

Devoting to a devilish goddess like you was a tempting surrender he was eager to embrace.

You felt a pulse straight in your clit and your cheeks heating, the weight of his desperate words triggering your following behavior.

Jake saw the way your face brightened up, realizing he had opened the hell’s gate and he was eager to enter – if you were the personification of the devil, he was more than willing to drown into your lustful, tempting sea of sins. 

“What do I want from you?” You echoed, an amused grin curling the corner of your lips as your eyes traced Jake’s attractive features, pausing on his perfectly sculpted high-bridged nose, accompanied just below by his tasteful lips. You smiled, caressing it with your thumb. “I want them. Eat me out.” 

Jake’s breath got caught on his throat and his eyes grew in a slight surprise, not only due to your bold, straightforward request, but mainly because the idea of having your pussy in full display for him to play sounded too dreamy.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a low, contained voice, struggling to keep down his excitement, biting his lower lip, aiming to confirm he wasn’t going insane.

“I know what I want, Jake.” You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow. “And you?”

Jake’s eyes immediately dropped to your chest and then your bare thighs. The dress had ridden up due to the position so he was able to see a hint of your laced, black panties. He wet his lips, mouth watering while he lowered enough to bend comfortably and be eye level with your cunt.

You watched, fascinated by how in trance he seemed to be, as though your final word was the cue for him to dive into you completely. 

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation as you propped yourself up to help Jake slide your panties down your legs, gentle hands caressing your smooth skin as he did so. Then he grabbed your ass and pulled you forward, shooting you a quick glance and smile before burying his face between your legs, the smell of your pussy intoxicating his senses. 

He first gave it a small, slow kitty-lick, testing the waters, then frowned in pleasure, groaning with your delicious taste dissolving on his tongue.

A soft gasp slipped from your lips and you quickly pursed them to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, fighting the urge of allowing yourself to let go so easily. One of your hands searched for support on the edge of the counter and the other held on tight to Jake’s hair.

Jake gave a long, savoring lick, finishing with a delectable, lewd sucking noise in your clit, as if he was starting to make out with your pussy. Your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs feeling like jelly as a wave of weakness coursed through you.

His hot muscle started to work faster, steadier and precise in between your folds, your entrance and your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving each of them the right amount of attention.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you moaned shakily, unable to keep it low. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you threw your head back, unconsciously waving your body towards his face, practically griding on it.

Jake moaned with your praise, skilfully shaking his head whenever he flickered his tongue in your hole, just to rub your clit with his nose, before moving back to suck on it, entirely immersed on his duty to please you.

He was on cloud nine. 

Your taste flooding his senses, your body reacting to his stimulus, heating up and shivering under his precise touch, your pretty moans filling up the space straight into his ears, like angels singing – though he was sure you were a devil in disguise. 

Every noise coming from your throat was sending a rush of electricity directly into his dick, not to mention how your cunt became wetter and wetter with the lewd mixture of his own saliva and your arousal. Jake could die that moment and would be happy with it.

Reading the way your breathing grew heavy and feeling how you clenched around the tip of his tongue, Jake deduced you were near to the edge.

“I’m close–” You whispered, confirming his theory.

The knot on your stomach tightened when Jake began to focus mainly on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, eager for your release – perhaps more than you. “I’m really close, Jak–”

Your arms nearly failed to keep yourself up as your orgasm hit, a long moan falling from your mouth interrupting your warning, your spine arching with the euphoria wave and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your juices coated Jake’s tongue, who took all of it proudly; you hissed feeling his mouth still working on your sensitive cunt, and you pulled him away by his hair.

Without a word Jake brought his lips to yours, making you taste yourself still hazy minded after your strucking climax. You groaned, slowly starting to move your hips to get down from the counter, Jake unconsciously helping you through it by supporting your weight until your heels landed on the floor. 

You lightly pushed Jake’s chest to move him away, meeting his dazed expression, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his veins. You grabbed the hem of his black shirt, quietly asking for him to remove it. And he did without hesitation.

"Fuck me," you demanded, taking a glimpse of his beautiful toned abs, a bit out of breath and even needier now. "Fuck me and watch you doing it through this mirror."

Jake flashed a quick grin, still recovering from the smothering and delightful feeling of being in between your legs, before fumbling with his belt, hands frantic undoing the button of his pants to slide them down.

You took your sweet time to thirst over the outline of his covered, extremely hard length, interrupting his actions by gripping his wrist, savoring the moment as you licked your lips, mouth watering.

“It’s a shame we cannot take much longer,” you started, fauxing innocence as you stepped closer just enough to touch him over his white boxers. A small, provocative chuckle coming from your throat before you murmured. “Really wanted to feel you in my mouth.” And then you kissed the corner of his parted lips.

Jake whimpered when you softly squeezed his neglected dick, leaning closer to you instinctively, holding onto the edge of the counter behind you while resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder. His breath was heavy against your skin, where he pressed his lips a few times until reaching your earlobe, nibbling. 

Your sneaky hands entered the hem of his clothing piece to jerk him off; your teasing, deliberate moves were driving him insane. The way your warm palm rubbed his sensitive tip made his groans increase just as much as his pulse, and he moaned a bit louder when you finally freed his aching dick out of his boxers by pushing them down, allowing your hand to pump his shaft easier. 

With closed eyes, you enjoyed the waves of pleasure going down, directly to your cunt, making you wet again by hearing Jake’s sultry noises and hot breath brushing against your ear.

Your lips grazed along his jawline at the same time you threatened your fingers through his slightly dampened hair, disheveling it even more before pulling it away from the curve of your neck, so you could capture his mouth in a slow, passionate kiss.

"Condom?" You asked under breath after parting away from his mouth, slowing your hand on his dick. You noticed his body tensing right after your question, eyes growing wide in panic, which piqued your curiosity.

There’s no way he…

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

You let out a soft scoff, part laughter, part disbelief. Without missing a beat, your hands resumed their movement, this time teasing him by randomly stopping, repeating the motion a few times. His moans grew louder, hips bucking desperately against your hand as if seeking more, his mouth agape and eyes glistening with despair.

"What a naughty boy," you cooed, slowly shaking your head in a false disappointment. "Were you planning on going raw with me, Jakey?" You questioned, voice low, layered with playfulness. 

Jake winced, desperation growing inside his chest, fearing you to leave him now, when he needed you the most.

"N-No..." He shook his head, “I wasn’t– I forgot, I’m sorr–” 

"Unluckily we just met.” You interrupted. “I don't know you well enough to let you do that. Right?" 

Jake nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was truly following your words. You were loving to see him falling apart so easily, almost begging for you not to leave him through his messy moans. 

His breath hitched and he almost grabbed your hand in place when you let go from his hard, red and needy cock. "P–please…" He finally pleaded, holding your waist as his eyes searched for yours in complete despair.

You quirked an eyebrow, smirking at his endearing demeanor. "Aw, you really wanna fuck me, don't you?" You caressed his cheek with your clean hand, smiling.

“I really do,” Jake whispered, moving his head just enough to kiss your palm. “Please, let me–”

“Not without protection, Jakey,” you said firmly, although with a hint of teasing, because you had a way out of that situation without harming your health.

And the said solution was inside your purse, which got tossed on the ground at some point of your initial make out session with Jake. 

Jake's puppy sad eyes followed your every motion when you moved his hands off of your waist, thinking he had messed up completely. But then he saw you grabbing your bag and taking a condom off of it, showing to him with a playful grin.

"And lucky to us, I'm always prepared, Jakey.”

You slowly approached him again, his gaze catching the alluring sight of you gently opening the packaging using your teeth, while your eyes confidently remained locked onto his, loving to see his bewildered expression.

Without a word, you slid the condom on his length, stroking it a few times before turning your back to him, bending over the counter and lifting your dress, revealing the beautiful view of your bare ass.

Jake’s firm hands instinctively gripped your hips and he positioned himself behind you while biting his lip in anticipation, the thrilling excitement boiling stronger in his cock.

He searched for your eyes in the mirror in front of you two, and of course you were already looking at him through your hungry orbs, savoring the image of Jake’s craving your body.

"Now fuck me as desperate as you seem to be."

Your words hung in the air for seconds before Jake’s mind snapped away from your tempting view in the mirror; your boobs nearly jumping out of your neckline, lips swollen but carrying the same confidence, and your eyes. Your fucking eyes. Your devilish eyes. 

“Your desire is my pleasure, Y/N.” It was all Jake managed to say with his low, husky voice, before pushing deep into you.

Your mouth fell open with the breathtaking sensation of being filled up, and Jake began to slowly pump into you, giving you a little time to adjust. Or you thought so.

You still had no idea that he was already stepping near the edge of his own release, that being the reason for his deliberate hip rolls – there was no way in hell he was going to let the opportunity of enjoying your delicious squeezes around his dick slip away that easily.

“F–fuck,” his voice cracked as he whispered. “You f–feel amazing...”

You looked at Jake in the mirror after hearing how weakly his words came out, as if he were already lost in a haze of his own pleasure. And he truly was. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight of his head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly parted, a faint smile gracing his lips.

When a specific deep thrust hit your g-spot, you almost cried out and Jake quickly paid attention to it. Then he bent you even more on the marble counter with one hand forcing your back, to ease his access to your sensitive area and help with his movements, speeding his hips the right amount to make you roll your eyes.

“T–that’s it...” You moaned. “Fucking me so good.” You praised and Jake groaned, his hands immediately sliding to cup one of your covered breasts, massaging it while keeping his pace, eyes locked at the insanely delightful view in the mirror.

A sequence of moans slipped out of your throat as Jake started fucking you hard and fast, desperately even. How your walls clenched tight around his cock was driving him insane, and he seeked for more of that addicting feeling.

The sound of the distant music did nothing to cover the slams sounds echoing the bathroom at that point, and honestly, neither of you cared anymore, far gone in your own pleasure.

At some point your own body started to encounter his pushes into you, but it wasn’t enough. So you straightened your posture a bit, tugging Jake’s hair while looking at his eyes in the mirror – his fucked up expression sending shivers down your spine. 

“Faster, Jake.” You urged, a bossy tone dripping out of your mouth like a sweet sugar that Jake grew obsessed with. And he instantly obeyed.

Your free hand cupped Jake’s on your boob and your eyes fluttered close while you tilted your head back, lost in the amazing feeling of Jake pounding into your g-spot, a mess of moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths. 

Since he had his eyes open, Jake watched your body quivering with his thrusts, the fucking Prada logo on your dress shining with the dim light of the bathroom, your makeup slightly smeared due to the mess. It was completely out of this world how good you looked, and the way you were squeezing his dick together with the view, sent him even closer to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum–” He said in one go, as an eager statement, not a warning, desperate to feel his release. 

Your breath started to quicken with his erratic pace, and you fluttered your eyes open again, catching the sight of Jake’s concentrated frown and mouth agape, letting out the prettiest moans you ever heard.

You said nothing, you just tightly gripped the hand on your chest and leaded it to your clit, inciting him to rub it for you. Jake got your message, and with all the overwhelming stimulus, your second orgasm hit, mouth falling open gasping for air as you supported yourself on the marble counter, your head falling forward while you kept on feeling Jake’s deep thrusts.

You clenched involuntarily around his dick, and that was enough for him to achieve his climax as well, resting his head on your shoulder, holding you close still.

Jake moved back with a hiss, completely dizzy and fulfilled. He removed the condom and tossed it onto the trashcan before dressing himself back again, helping you to recompose since your legs were shaky.

“Thank you,” you said in a hoarse voice when he offered you your purse and your panties, to which you decided not to wear again because, well, it was on the floor.

So you cheekily pushed into Jake’s pocket without saying a word, and he didn’t even noticed, too focused on looking out for you by supporting you to keep steady. 

You turned to the mirror, fixing your messy hair and makeup as best as you could. 

“How do we get out of this bathroom now?” Jake asked after the silence, watching you re-apply your red lipstick. 

You just smiled, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek to purposely leave a mark there. “Like this.” And you simply opened the door, not even caring about the instant stares you received as you did so, Jake following your lead right behind, a small shy smile adorning his lips. 

With a last goodbye look, you parted ways, your confidence evident in your stride, and Jake fumbling to smooth down his disheveled locks, now with the acknowledgment that the devil definitely wears Prada.

[wintfleur]

𐙚 . BEST PART

𝓹airing ∿ lando norris x f!reader ᰔ 𝓸ne shot ; fluff, established relationship 𐙚 𝔀c 2,555 ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓻oro's note. YAY MY FIRST F1 FIC IN A WHILEEE looking for some f1 moots >.< ﹒ ꒰ 𝓵ibrary ꒱

𝓢. the best part of both of your days was the mornings you shared

You tiredly rubbed the sleep from your eyes with your knuckles as you walked through your apartment, following the delicious smell coming from the kitchen along with the faint sound of music playing through the small radio that your boyfriend had gotten for the kitchen. Your footsteps were soft and slow, as you were extra careful not to slip on the wood flooring. Your fluffy socks, not helping with your balance and neither did your drowsy state. 

You had awoken with a grumpy groan when you realized you were alone in bed, your boyfriends' strong arms not wrapped around you like you remembered them to be before your eyes grew heavy and you slipped into a peaceful sleep. For a moment you worried that your romantic and sensual night that you shared with your boyfriend was all just a dream that your subconscious mind came up with to comfort you from how much you missed him. 

But when you groggily rolled over to lay on his side of the bed you were reassured that it was in fact not a dream when you felt his warmth still on the sheets. So, you sleepily got out of bed and reached for Lando's quadrant hoodie you saw was on the desk chair through your barely opened eyes and slipped it on over your cloth less body. 

Your grumpiness only faded from you when you caught sight of your boyfriend standing in front of the stove, his back to you. Your eyes slowly trailed down his bare back and arms, taking in every detail of his muscle and skin before your eyes fell to the black sweatpants, he was wearing that hung low on his hips. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him and his head of messy bed hair, softly bopping along to the music. 

You missed the sight of him being so domestic so much while he was away working. You missed him. 

Your feet softly padded against the tile floor of the kitchen as you quietly walked up behind him, your tired eyes squinting from the sunshine that came through the wide-open kitchen window, he always did prefer natural light, and he loved the smell of the morning air. You missed the way his body stilled for a small moment as he sensed your presence, as you wrapped your hoodie covered arms around his waist and nestled your head on his back. 

Lando doesn't flinch at your sudden touch, he had expected you to come waddling into the kitchen searching for his warmth as soon as you woke up. He knew you all too well. Your eyes quickly fluttered close; the sunlight was too much for them. He took his hand that wasn't holding the spatula and rested it on yours that was resting on his stomach, a happy smile on your lips at his warm touch. His voice was deep and still filled with sleep as he asked – “sleep well darling?” 

You were far too tired and had no energy to form any words to answer him, so you just slowly nodded against his back that was slowly falling and rising with his breaths and mumbled out a soft “mhm” – The clear tiredness in your tone made him chuckle. 

“Still tired?” he hummed as he gave your cold hands one more squeeze before reaching over to grab a small handful of blueberries, as he sprinkled them in the perfect sized circles of pancake batter, he knew they were your favorite. He brought his hand back to yours, instead slipping it under the sleeve, his warm and slightly rough fingers caressing your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His soft touch only makes you more inclined to drag him back to bed. 

“I must have really tired you out last night, huh sweet cheeks?” Lando asked you teasingly, using that pet name he loved to lease you with. His lips twitched up into a smirk as he hints at the night the two of you shared. You immediately feel frustrated at his teasing, hiding your face in his chest as your hold on his waist tightens. Your lack of response makes him chuckle to himself. 

“Let's go back to bed” you asked, your words coming out muffled from your face being squished against his back. Your tone was more demanding and whinier than you had intended it to be. All you wanted was more time to be in Lando's arms before he got that call and had to leave for work, you grew to hate the sound of his phone buzzing. 

Lando smiled fondly at your tone, Ahh adorable he thinks to himself. He loved how clingy you would get in the mornings – and in general. As much as he wanted to join you back in bed, it was more important to him that you eat a good meal after the strenuous night the two of you shared. He flipped the pancakes, the tops being perfectly golden “I’m making you pancakes, you asked for them last night” 

“I would have never asked for them if i knew my handsome boyfriend would leave me to wake up all alone in our bed to make them” you playfully complained with an annoyed huff, making sure to emphasize the world alone. Lando laughs loudly at your words, he knew you were trying to guilt him into getting back in bed. He turns off the stove and lets the last few cooks until golden

“You need to eat something sweet cheeks, and then we can watch that movie you showed me last week” he tried to compromise with you, remembering how you excitedly showed him and Oscar the trailer.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked back on the day, distinctly remembering how Lando was very uninterested with the movie, teasing both you and oscar for rambling about it – “You said the trailer was stupid” you mumbled with a cute pout as he took a step back from the stove, your body following him as you still hold onto him, not before he took the now done pancakes out of the pan and into the platter with the other pancakes. 

Lando chuckles and gives a soft pat to your hand before letting go and turning around to face you. A smile gracing his lips when he finally laid his eyes on you, your arms dropped to rest on his hips, your fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the band of his sweatpants. Your hair was still messy, your eyes showed evidence of you still being tired, his hoodie swallowing up your body. 

He just wanted to grab your cheeks and smother your face in kisses from how adorable you looked, but instead he gave you an innocent smile, raising his eyebrows and pretending to be shocked by your words as he rested his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him “Oh, I said that aloud?” 

“Lannn” you whined with an annoyed huff as you leaned forward, resting your forehead on his bare chest, too tired to go along with his teasing. Your boyfriend chuckled at your dramatics and leaned down to place a few kisses on your forehead and temple, one of his hands coming up to try to fix your messy hair, tucking a few strands behind your ears. 

“We’ll eat first and then we can cuddle as much as you want, okay darling?” he hums fondly as he moves his large hands to softly hold your face, tilting it up so you would look up at him. Lando’s breath hitches as the two of you lock eyes, you never fail to give him butterflies. You lean your face against the palm of his hand and softly nodded in agreement “Hmm okay” 

“Perfect, you get the drinks, and I'll set the food on the table” he nods as he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. You scrunch your nose at the feeling of his soft lips on your nose, a giggle leaving your lips at the ticklish feeling, his heart erupting in warmth and the sight and sound. You leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his shoulder before making your way over to the fridge. 

He stood there for a few moments with a fond smile on his face as he watched you slowly walk over to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of freshly made orange juice. You set the pitcher on top of the table before moving over to the cabinet to get glasses and grabbed both of you a set of utensils. 

Lando felt a blush spread against his face at the feeling of you softly touching his lower back as you moved behind him, years of dating and he still would blush at your touches like he did when he first met you. You found it adorable but lando didn't, always hiding his face in your neck whenever you mentioned his flushed cheeks. 

“I'll be right back” Lando whispered quickly as he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head before rushing out of the kitchen and towards your shared room to put on a shirt. You shook your head fondly at the sound of his loud footsteps as you sat down on the bench in front of the table, your mouth watering at the sight of the different cut fruits and the perfectly golden pancakes. 

You tilted your head up and smiled at him when you felt him join you at the table, sitting down next to you on the bench. This time it was lando who was clingy for your touch, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, emitting a small giggle out of you. You both quietly said your thanks for the meal before digging in. 

Your breakfast was filled with quiet conversations, teasing from the both of you, soft kisses and even softer touches shared between the two of you. You gave your sweet boyfriend many compliments throughout breakfast about pancakes, even teasing him about you loving his pancakes more than him. That earned you a poke to the ribs. 

After helping Lando clean up the kitchen – that took much longer than it was supposed to, the two of you had stopped in the middle of cleaning the dishes to slow dance to the song playing through the radio, many fits of giggles leaving your lips at how horribly he sang along to the lyrics, a surprised gasp left your lips at how low he had dipped you. 

You were quick to take your boyfriend's large hand in your much smaller one, pulling him towards the living room where the couch was basically screaming your names. He quickly grabbed the soft decorative blanket on the end of the couch before flopping down on the L sectional of the couch. Lando opened his arms for you to join him, a small smirk on his lips as watched you search for the remote but to no avail. 

“Yoo-hoo” you heard your boyfriend whistle behind you, you dropped the decorative pillow you were looking behind back on the couch and turned to see him giving you a smile as he held up the remote that he had picked up from the coffee table before he sat down. Lando chuckles at the confused pout that decorates your lips as you trudge towards him. You raised your eyebrow as you playfully accuse him “You had the remote the whole time didn't you” 

“You're cute when you're confused” your boyfriend teased with a deep chuckle as he reached for your hand and softly pulled you down against him, taking you in his arms as your hands rested on his chest. A small sound of surprise left your lips at the sudden movement followed by a loud laugh at the ticklish feeling of lando littering your neck in soft kisses. 

“Lan please” you got out between your giggles as you eventually pulled away from his attack on your neck, moving to lay by his side and not on top of him. He let out a small hum as he scooted over so there was enough room for you to lay on your side between him and the couch, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you close while his other rested on your thigh that was over his midsection. 

Lando rests his head back against the couch, watching as you make yourself comfortable in his arms as you cover you and him in the soft blanket. He gently squeezed your thigh, looking down at you with a teasing smirk “please what?” 

“You promised that we could watch a movie and cuddle, so behave” You trailed off into a teasing tone as you poked his side with your finger, smiling at the shocked noise leaving his lips at the sudden feeling of your ticklish touch. He felt you snuggle closer to you, wrapping your arm around your waist and tangling your legs with his. He grabbed the remote by his side and turned it on before kissing the top of your head and speaks sweetly “Okay okay i promise sweet cheeks” 

You tilt your head back and send him a warning glare because of the pet name, but he just chuckles and continues to search for the movie, bringing his free hand that he had resting on your waist up to play with your hair softly. You let out a content hum at the feeling and rested your head back on his chest, your eyes drawn to the tv that was playing the intro of the movie, your fingers absentmindedly squeezing onto his shirt.  

The first 20 minutes of the movie was filled with your guy’s quiet murmurs, mostly from Lando, who liked to pick out everything wrong with the movie so far, and you enjoyed his nerdy rambles too much to tell him to stop. You found it funny how into the movie he got despite how much complaining he did in the beginning. 

You hid your face in his chest as you let out a long yawn, your nose brushing against his chest. You scooted closer to him as if that was even possible, it felt like you were melting in his arms. Before you realize it, your eyes start to grow heavy and your hold on his shirt weakens, the feeling of his fingers softly playing with your hair and the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

It only took a few minutes for Lando to notice that you had fallen asleep in his arms, he was on one of his rants about a poorly made character and he had expected to hear your own thoughts when he paused but instead, he just heard your soft breaths that left your slightly parted lips. He brings his free hand to gently move your hair out of your face, admiring how cute you looked with your face smushed up against his chest. He whispered with a smile “Ahh how cute” 

Lando bright the soft blanket up to your shoulders, gently tucking it under your chin. He grabbed the remote at his side and turned down the volume before leaning down to place a soft and long kiss to your forehead, whispering against your skin “Sleep well sweet cheeks” 

𝓻oro's note. if this fic looks familiar, i posted it on my other account @tsukiflwr for an anime character kuroo!! please let me know what you guys thought !! I really missed writing for f1 ☺️

˖ ་ taglist : @iloveyou300omorgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @toasttt11 @c-losur3 @winterbarnesblog @yoontwin @ophcelia

©️WINTFLEUR

[fandomxo00]

Logan and reader being in a secret relationship while at the mansion and him staying awake late (though let’s be honest he was awake anyways) just so he can sneak into her room to spend time with her, snuggle, watch a movie (bonus points if it’s a twin bed - I love the idea of a 6’2” man squishing himself on a twin bed with his partner just to spend time with her no matter how uncomfortable it is) x 🥺💕✨

note: logan in his sweats makes me feral, 2000 logan makes me feral, logan makes feral - he's such a night owl and id soo match his freak lmao -trying to work on the requests i have won't be super long or edited, but i'm excitedd xooo, if your request isnt posted soon, i'm just still working on it! i so appreciate all of the requests i get, thank you guys ❤️❤️❤️

it would be super late at night; he'd been tossing and turning for hours. Thinking about you and trying not to give in to see you. The two of you weren't technically together, though he claimed you whenever he did fold. You were much younger than him, you were still technically a student. You just got here a little while ago, already an adult when he met you. But you were still in the student side of the building, he even had to fuck you in a twin bed. Most of the time you didn't fold and come to him, you were far too nervous to sneak into the teacher's dorms of the school Plus, sometimes you tricked yourself into thinking he didn't want you, so you wouldn't risk it.

So with the moon's light shining through his window, he kicked off his sheets, turning so his feet hit the floor. Logan was only in his gray sweatpants, his hand coming to scratch as his belly before he rose to his feet. He knew that if he didn't go to you wouldn't go to bed til much-much later, your mind never able to turn off. So he walked over to the back of his door, grabbing his zip up hoodie and walking out of his room. Padding down the hallways, listening carefully to things around him. Before coming up to your door that had little stars around your name. His hand came around the handle, his jaw clenching as he twisted the knob and moved the door open.

That's when he saw you, completely unaware that he was in the room. You had your glasses on the bridge of your nose, your chin dipped as your brown eyes focused on the screen. You were typing away with your earbuds in, the music you were listening could be heard from the outside. Though with his hearing he knew what song you liked, always listening to the same playlist whenever he came in. Little did he know you had a playlist labeled, 12, for the first letter of his first name. Songs that reminded you of him, or songs you heard him playing in his classroom. He glanced over at the window that was cracked open, your rig and torch sitting below.

You even smoked late at night, trying to get your mind to slowly shut off but sometimes it was like your sleep medication and the weed kept you awake. Though some nights it was the opposite, but he saw the tired look in your eyes. You were fighting sleep, and your mind probably kept going. When he closed your door, your head lifted up and you yelped, jumping.

Logan laughed as you took out your headphones, "Like you don't see me every night." He joked, as you scoffed, closing your laptop quickly and setting your thighs to the side.

"Was waiting for you."

"Should've just come to me, sunshine." Logan hummed as he sauntered over to the bed, your hands reached out to the sides of his jacket zipper, pulling him into you. His lips find yours in a soft kiss as you rise on to your knees.

The two of you crawled into bed together, Logan pulling you in closer to him so you comfortably lay on the bed, his legs folding into yours to create room. Curling his head into your neck with one arm under your neck or arm, the other around your waist or hip. The two of you couldn't really move much and when you did, the other had to be aware in order to not fall off the bed. You usually didn't just find sleep, when you first started doing this it was filled with a lot of sex. But the two of you were just too tired, so you listened to each other talk. Feeling the vibrations of each other's chest, breathing, hands tracing over each other's skin as you rambled.

Logan having to turn you into him so he could kiss you, looking into your eyes as you rambled on about the story you were writing. He loved how much detail you went in with him, especially when it got dirty. Logan listened to every detail fascinated by the way your mind worked and how excited you would get at some plot points. You would wound up in the crook of his arm, while he found his home tickling the skin of your neck with his beard. His natural musk invading his senses and drawing the sleep out of him as he found solicae and comfort in your embrace. Your own hand draped over his waist, moving under his jacket to feel his warm skin. Then he'd peel off the jacket, pressing you to his skin and making you practically purr as you melted into him.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[vanillawurld]

༊*·˚ Mi Corazoncito

✧.* Request- Anonymous

"Hii can you do a jealous joost like he sees you with ski aggu and gets jealousss💞🤍🤍"

✧.* Pair - Joost Klein x Fem! Reader (Slightly Ski Aggu x Fem! Reader)

✧.* Tags & Warnings - Jealousy, confessing, food(?) and tension

✧.* Summary - Joost gets jealous when he sees you interacting with his close friend. Seeing the girl he likes laughing with another man almost drives him insane.

✧.* Extra- AVENTURA AVENTURA I LOVE AVENTURA I LOVE AVENTURA AVENTURA NO LE DIGAS A NADIE LO MUCHO QUE TE QUIERO

✧.* Word Count - 1,739

Roomating with a producer can be a bit of a handful. There's always random people in their home, playing loud sounds, always hearing conversations or laughter. It's enough to make people want to move out, but not (Y/N). It was like that from the beginning though. She got tired of the loud noises and kept considering moving out, but that changed. She stayed because of the people she met. Her roommate introduced her to some of the coolest people ever.

One of those "coolest people" happened to be a Dutch musician by the name of Joost Klein. He wasn't just a cool person, he was an absolute sweetheart. He was a gentleman, some may say.

One of their first interactions happened in the kitchen. Joost was getting a drink out of the fridge while (Y/N) was reaching for a plate that was placed in a higher cabinet. She was tugging at the big batch of plates, she didn't realize the smaller ones on top were about to fall on her head. Joost noticed this and immediately jumped into action and caught the smaller plates. Joost asked (Y/N) if she was okay to which she jokingly responded with, "Oh my God you saved my life." That marked a new friendship in the process.

After that, Joost and (Y/N) started talking more, some conversations being taken to Instagram DM's or regular messages. Whenever Joost came over to work on new music, (Y/N) would be the first person in the room to talk to him. They easily connected and it was a euphoric feeling for both of them. As time went on, some feelings were starting to develop from both ends. The more they interacted with each other, the more those feelings got stronger. At first, it was a concerning issue for both Joost and (Y/N), but they individually came up with the idea 'If I don't tell, then nothing will happen.'

They never knew how hard that mentality was going to affect them.

It was another work day for (Y/N)'s roommate, meaning people were going to come over, also meaning Joost was coming over. (Y/N) waited on the living room couch for the door to make a knocking sound. Joost had a special knock that made (Y/N) instantly know it was him. It was the rhythm to (Y/N)'s favorite song. When she heard the rhythm knock, she shot up from the couch and basically ran to the door. She opened the door and was met with her blonde friend and another blonde that she didn't recognize. He had a pair of ski googles on top of his head which made him stand out just a bit.

"Hi stinky," (Y/N) heard Joost say. She smiled and gave him a hug and welcomed him and his friend in.

"How are you?" she asked Joost. He just just gave her a thumbs up and a dumb smile, which she adored.

"This is my friend, August," Joost pointed to his friend. "But you call him Ski Aggu because you're not his friend," Joost jokingly added.

(Y/N) smiled and rolled her eyes. She turned to August and put out her hand, to which he happily shook, "It's nice to meet you, my name's (Y/N)."

"It's lovely to meet you too, my friend Joost was telling me all about you," His voice and accent were deep. "You seem like a fun girl to be around," He continued, his tone changing just a tiny bit.

"I'd like to think I am," She replied. The atmosphere got a little thick in Joost's head. 'What did August mean by that? And why did (Y/N) even reply?' were thoughts going through Joost's head, but he pushed them away to not overthink.

The moment was put to an end when (Y/N)'s roommate opened his door, making everyone turn to him. "Oh shit, sorry guys. I kinda forgot you two were coming," he said, "The song's almost done, I just want Joost to make a bit more background vocals and then we're done. It shouldn't take long."

(Y/N) walked back to sit down on the couch and turned on the TV. She watched as Joost and August walked to her roommate's room to finish what they needed to do. August gave (Y/N) a little wave before entering the room, making her smile and wave back. Joost caught this and made him question even more, but didn't want to overthink it.

Before shutting the door, Joost turned to (Y/N) and jokingly said, "No girls allowed."(Y/N) giggled and told him to shut up and get to work in a joking manner.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours, at least that's what it felt like to (Y/N). (Y/N) never gave the work her roommate did any interest, even though she loves listening to music. It was ironic. But one thing she learned from her roommate, making music isn't easy or for the weak.

(Y/N) was distracted on her phone until she heard a door open. She looked up from her device and saw August walking toward the kitchen to look for a snack. She watched as he walked towards the pantry and opened it up to see what he can munch on. She kind of felt bad because her roommate didn't really buy snacks like she did. August was struggling to figure out what to get because he didn't know which snacks he was allowed to get.

"You know, I have a full bag of takis towards the back. You can have them if you want." (Y/N) suggested.

August looked at her, back at the pantry, and back at her. "Are you sure?" he asked. (Y/N) nodded and told him she didn't mind. He smiled and reached toward's the back to find a party-sized bag of chips.

August was about to go back to the room until he realized that (Y/N) was all alone. He felt bad leaving her alone while he was with his friends working. He wanted to get to know her, alone. He sat next to her and turned towards her. "You're really nice." was all August said.

(Y/N) giggled. "Thank you, but why are you saying that?"

"Well, I don't know anyone else who would let me have their full bag of chips, let alone a party-size bag," August answered.

(Y/N) laughed at his response. At the end of the day, it was never that serious, but (Y/N) loved when people took their gratitude to a silly level. "This guy almost never buys snacks and whenever he does, he eats it in the same hour." She added, referring to her roommate.

August and (Y/N) continued their conversation that started because of a bag of chips. August kept making (Y/N) laugh with his responds and comments, which caught the attention of another musician in the very next room. "Damn, bro. He's taking your girl," Joost's producer friend jokingly said. Joost lightly punched him on the shoulder and got up to "Investigate."

When Joost walked out the room, he instantly noticed how close August was sitting next to (Y/N). That made his stomach feel weird. He hated watching another man make (Y/N) laugh, especially if it was one of his friends. He wanted to jump into the conversation so he didn't feel left out. "Guys, i'm kind of hungry," was all he said to break their conversation.

August and (Y/N) looked at Joost. "I'm kind of hungry too, i'm not going to lie," (Y/N) added, "I could door-dash us some food but.... I honestly don't want to pay that much for delivery."

"Oh, August and Teun can go get the food," Joost immediately suggested.

August looked at Joost and raised his eyebrow. "Why can't you go?" he asked.

"Because I don't want to and I need to record more adlibs," Joost replied. There was an awkward silence between the two blondes. (Y/N) didn't know why but she felt like there was weird tension between the two. The more they stared at each other, the more the tension was because thicker, someone could cut it with a knife. The weird moment was broken when Teun walked out the room and said, "Come on, August. You can choose what we eat," He was while grabbing his keys.

August mentally sighed and got up to leave with Teu, leaving Joost and (Y/N) alone. It didn't take (Y/N) much to realize Joost was bothered about something. "Are you okay?" she asked. Joost turned around and muttered about him being fine. (Y/N) was bothered by his response and called him out, "Don't do that. Don't. I know something is wrong, so tell me."

Joost slowly turned back around to look at (Y/N) and was mentally debating on whether he should tell her or not. He looked at the ground like a little kid that's about to get in trouble and sighed. "Honestly..." was all he could get out while making a quick pointing gesture at the door.

(Y/N) didn't understand what he meant until she connected the dots when she remembered the tension between August and him. She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted the spot next to her on the couch. He quickly sat next to her and she laid her head on his shoulder, making his heart race. "He can never replace you," she whispered to him.

Joost chuckled and reached to lay his hand on her cheek and jawline, covering her mouth. He felt like in that moment, it was the right time to let her know how he felt. "I like you, a lot. And I hate how a situation involving a man made me tell you," he confessed.

It was silent for a couple of seconds. Making Joost worry. "I like you more, but I still want to get to know you," (Y/N) replied. Joost smiled and looked at her.

"How about I let you know me more over dinner?" Joost asked. (Y/N) gave him a big smile and nodded. She gave him a quick kiss on his temple and got up to run to her room. Joost watched as she disappeared into her room. He finally got the girl he wanted and was once grateful for his envy.

˖◛. *. ⋆ Vanilla Speaks

im back because im bored. writing with nails is hard so sorry if theres mistakes </3

it took a mid ass man to break my heart to get me to come back onto here

[warping-realities]

Beautiful Things

Hey, everyone! This story is part of the Viral Transformation funfarre proposed by the one and only @occamstfs, in celebration of hitting 2K followers! Congrats, bro, you totally deserve it. He’s one of our top authors and never fails to bring the best stories.

Before I dive in, I gotta give you a heads-up that this is a story about corruption, where good people turn into the worst kind of folks. If that’s a sensitive topic for you, I’d recommend not moving forward. Trust me, in the original project, things were way worse, but after chatting with the MAN himself, who helped me with some edits, I softened the tone of the story a bit. If you’re interested in the original version, I can post it later, but this is the final cut.

That said, I hope you all enjoy it and join me in celebrating this awesome author!"

Alois was strolling mindlessly in the morning towards the student exchange center in Seattle, where a bunch of fresh-off-the-boat students from all over the world were gathering for the adaptation phase of their exchange semester. The eighteen-year-old Austrian was loving the experience of taking a gap year before diving back into his studies in Vienna, where he planned to become a doctor. As he walked down the busy street, on what should be the only sunny day of the year, he spotted one of those types he had seen around the city. They were all buff and tall, with wavy, well-groomed hair, and the big ol' mustache that defined them, giving off the vibe of some douchebag brotherhood or whatever. This one in particular was jamming out to music on headphones that looked straight outta the nineties, just like his outfit, which consisted of Levi’s jeans, a white tee, a dark jacket, and combat boots. The whole look cranked the douche factor up to eleven, making Alois's heart race a bit as a shiver of attraction ran through him. When the guy passed by Alois, he shot a look at the smaller red-headed man, dripped with arrogance while a smirk played at the corners of his lips, like he knew some secret that Alois was clueless about. To make things worse, the music blaring from his headphones was so loud that Alois couldn’t help but catch a snippet.

“Please, staaaayyyy…”

That stupid song again. At first, Alois thought it was kinda interesting, despite all the religious preaching in it, which rubbed the young atheist the wrong way. What he didn’t realize was that the singer was all about filming a lot of TikTok videos to promote his work, videos that inevitably flooded the social media feeds of a gay dude with an unfounded attraction to that type of guy. A type that seemed to be multiplying on the streets of Seattle every damn day. Sure, Benson Boone was from Monroe, just a few miles away, but still… Maybe he was looking at things from the wrong angle, maybe it was the singer who was cashing in on the style of the group he and his fellow exchange students had dubbed the Mustache Gang.

The fact is, after several months, the hype around the song should’ve died but apparently that was still far from happening. Trying to leave the discomfort aside Alois headed to the coffee shop that had quickly become his favorite spot during his short stay in the city. As he walked along, head down like most introverts do, he got lost in thought about what kind of work the exchange agency would hook him up with, until his daydreaming was interrupted when those familiar chords hit his ears again.

“I want you, I need you, oh God…”

But this time, someone had slapped a cheerful electronic beat onto the song, which not only butchered it but also made it even more annoying. Looking for the source of that cacophony, he lifted his head and glanced to the side. He could’ve sworn he saw a chubby dude coming his way, but now there was no sign of him, just another one of those big-mustached douchebags strutting around with the swag all of them seemed to have, along with the usual cocky grin. Dressed in a white tank that showed off his defined arms and hairy chest. There was no one else close to Alois on the street at that moment, which was a blessing, since his dick was starting to stir at that sight. But that also freaked him out. Where the hell did that damn music come from? Was he seriously imagining things now?

Distracted and worried about his sanity, he stepped into the coffee shop. At that moment, the place was almost empty; there was just an old dude, well past his prime, fiddling with his phone, looking like he was in a bad mood while he seemed to be listening to something that deeply disgusted him through the giant headphones he was wearing. Apparently, the use of those things was a trend around there.

Passing by the old guy, Alois headed to the counter and ordered his usual coffee with cream and sugar. As he made his way back to the exit, still freaking out about his mental state, disaster struck. Clumsy as ever, he tripped and faceplanted on the floor, coffee spilling everywhere and staining a good chunk of his clothes.

“Alois, du bist dumm…”

He said stunned in embarrassment, as he turned to the side, starting to get up. His view landed on black combat boots that ended in large calves covered in denim, leading up to thighs as thick as they come. But the old man was wearing a suit, no? Clearly not, since the Levi’s pants had been replaced by a black hoodie that concealed a massive chest, which the sleeves were stretched to the limit by powerful biceps. The grand torso gave way to a handsome face framed by wavy brown hair, and right in the center, the ever-present slick mustache that even the guy’s prescription glasses couldn’t diminish the douchebag effect. With his eyes closed and a focused expression, he didn’t even seem to notice what just happened right next to him.

But Alois couldn’t help but wonder, where the hell did that old guy go? While trying to figure out when the old dude left the shop and the Mustache Gang member took his spot at the table, the man seemed to wake up. Smiling and fixing his hair, he finally noticed that a kid was trying to get up from a puddle of coffee right next to him.

“Need a hand, little bro?” he asked, though not with a genuinely empathetic expression; on the contrary, the grin he shot at Alois did little to hide how much he found the situation hilarious.

“No, I’m good, thanks!” Alois replied, finishing getting up and bolting out of the shop as the guy burst into loud laughter behind him. Apparently, this dude wasn’t just rocking the look of a douchebag. Rushing to wipe the coffee off his hoodie, Alois continued his march to his destination. Luckily, no other mortifying events unfolded along the way. Upon entering the classroom, he passed by Charles, a French dude with long blonde hair and delicate features, who was checking something on his iPad while also rocking a pair of those old-school headphones. Not wanting to disturb his classmate, he didn’t say hi and headed further back in the room, where bis friends Arjun and Qian, hailing from India and Taiwan respectively, were hanging out. As he passed Charles, he heard that stylized version of Benson Boone’s song again.

“I found my mind, I'm feelin' sane

It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith…”

Apparently, he wasn’t going crazy after all. He quickly turned towards the source of the music only to find one of those big-mustached douchebags and no music font at all. But he could’ve sworn that… wasn’t there another person there? A kid with long, well-kept blonde hair? Well, his hair was definitely blonde and well-kept, just like the his mustache. Wearing a tank top that showed off his arms and staring at everyone in the room with an air of immense superiority that made Alois feel torn between attraction and disgust.

Resuming his path back to his friends, he discreetly adjusted his boner in his sweatpants while sitting down and trying to forget about that damn song.

“So, who’s the jerk sitting at the front of the class like he owns the place?”

“We’ve been wondering that too, man,” Arjun, the skinny Indian boy with long limbs replied.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” continued Qian, who was more compact, as their teacher, Mr. Sizemore, spoke to the class.

“Guys, today I brought the manager of one of the establishments where you might work. Chuck works at a pub called Shooters; it’s an opportunity we typically offer to our students over twenty one. However, the place has expanded and now also has a Hookah Lounge, the Puff Palace. Although I must say the best option would be for no one here to inhale anything, this is still a decent job opportunity. Without further ado, here’s Mr. Chuck Morris.”

The guy smiled arrogantly before stretching and scratching his neck, causing the lightweight, almost see-through fabric of his tank top to expose his nipples, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. He took his sweet time getting up, like he was in some kind of private show.

But in Alois’s opinion, it would’ve been better if he had stayed seated and shut up, because the first words that came out of his mouth to the class raised a wave of utter dissatisfaction.

“Hey there, guys! Happy to finally leave your miserable countries behind and be in the greatest nation in the world?” The conversation didn’t get any better after that, and Alois was sure that whatever happened, he’d never set foot in that bar called Shooters.

After class, he was chatting animatedly with Arjun as they headed back to their dorm.

“I’d love to know what that illiterate would do if he knew he was talking to future doctors, engineers, journalists… while he’s gonna spend the rest of his life working in a bar serving people like him,” Alois commented.

“Probably nothing would change. People like him always think they’re superior just because of how they look and because they were born here in the States. Doesn’t matter if they live in a trailer and rely on government assistance.”

“True, ahhh, I want a coffee; I spilled mine all over this morning. Do you want one too?” Alois asked as they passed by his favorite coffee shop again.

“No, I’m good. I’ll go ahead; we’ll catch up later,” Arjun replied, continuing on while Alois entered the coffee shop. After carefully getting his to-go coffee to avoid a repeat of that morning’s fiasco, he turned and headed to the exit when he heard the synthetic chords again, accompanied by that familiar lyric.

“Don't take these beautiful things that I've got…”

This time, he saw where the sound was coming from—a Latino guy a bit older than him was listening through those giant headphones. Feeling sure he wasn’t losing it, Alois allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, only to get a major scare. In the blink of an eye, where the guy had been, now sat one of those big-mustached dudes, this one bigger and more muscular than the others, but with the same wavy hair and infamous mustache.

Alois was stunned, staring at the man, who in turn pointed a finger at him as if to assert something and gave him a smile that freaked the young guy out to his core.

Not knowing how to handle that situation, Alois bolted from the shop, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Still in shock, he entered the room he shared with Qian in the dorm, where his friend was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his phone, still dressed in the button-up shirt and khakis he wore to class.

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I... I forgot... How bizarre, I'm sure it was important Qian! Qian? Is everything okay? Qian…? You good?” he asked, realizing his friend hadn’t heard a word he said, just to see his face contort and his eyes roll back as if he were convulsing, and then… puff. Right in front of him stood another member of the Mustache Gang, wavy hair, slick mustache, a chiseled face and a muscular body on display.

“You good??? Qian? Who the hell is Qian? I’m Ken, you foreigner dumbass.” Said the young man of Chinese descent, the irony of using that kind of comment not even crossing his arrogant and brutish mind. “You’re here only because I couldn’t score with an American ass. But a hole’s a hole…”

“I… what…?”

“You just accept a quick hookup on Grindr man, It's not that difficult. Gonna act all shy now? Here in America, that kind of behavior doesn’t fly. Either you do what you came to do or bounce, but then you'll miss out on all this,” the guy replied, flexing his powerful muscles while giving him an arrogant grin. Alois was thinking about where exactly he was and what he was doing there.

“So ginger, what's it gonna be?”

.....

When he got to the dorm for international students  after getting his ass wrecked by the massive schlong of his Grindr hookup, who he discovered was co-manager of Shooters and Puff Palace alongside Chuck —those two even shared an apartment above the pub—he hated himself for getting into that mess just for a quick lay. Yet, at the same time, it was the best fuck he’d ever had. As he stripped down and got ready to shower and wash off the sweat and sex smell from his body, the distinct ping of a Grindr message caught his attention. Opening the app, he found a new message from Ken Lee.

“Hey ginger I think you’re gonna like this.” Ignoring all common sense, thinking it might be a nude, he clicked the link the other guy sent along with the message. Strangely enough, it was a clip from a podcast where a young woman interviewed a flamboyant man, who was wearing a bright and flashy suit, both chatting animatedly. Everything about them screamed obnoxious  starting with their shrill voices that didn’t stop talking for a second. Losing interest and wondering why a guy like Ken would send that to him, Alois let the video play as he headed to the bathroom in the room he occupied alone in the dorm.

“… so, Benson Boone? He’s such a total hottie, girl!”

“Don’t even get me started, Yasmin! I melt for a guy like that! I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“Me too, Nico! But with that whole Christian boy vibe, I’m not sure he’s got the moves.”

“Girl, it’s just marketing. A guy like that, with that body? And anyone rocking a mustache like that knows exactly what to do with a girl… or a man.”

“Nico you slut, I heard some rumors…”

“I know, girl! I wouldn’t doubt he’s hooked up with more than a few, after all, a man has his needs, and to a guy like him a hole’s a hole like my brother used to say”

“Oh, my brother always said the same thing. What’s going on that there aren’t any more men like him in America?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t get it either. Everywhere I look, I only see snowflakes and wimps. They say they are our allies, but this talk about toxic masculinity has turned all of them into whiners. Of course I prefer not to be attacked in the street by a bunch of homophobes, but sometimes all we want is someone to fuck us senseless And no one does it like a good douchebag, and don't come to me with that talk that this is a white, cis man's thing, yada yada yada... all due respect to the cause, but we need more men like this hottie, not less. Real American men, who know what they want and make it happen, I don't care what they do with their lives as long as they fuck me right. So I vote for more douchebags, of all races, creeds and sexual orientations, sis!

“True, Nico! I wish I could make that happen…”

“Me too, girl, but how about we listen to his updated song while we wait for the real American men to come back?”

“Sure, girl, this version is way better and more danceable, perfect for a man to sweep me off my feet. Play it!”

Then, the chords that had been haunting Alois all day started playing, and he quickly turned on his way to the bathroom to stop the video—there’s no way he’d want to listen to that on his own.

“Mm. Please stay. I want you, I need you, oh God…”

As he turned towards the source of the sound, he froze, hearing it as a feeling of numbness invaded his head and took over his body, barely letting him take a step back before being flooded with memories and sensations that weren’t his. His childhood in Austria was being replaced by one  in Virginia, time spent studying swapped for sports practice, the memory of a skinny physique giving way to a powerful, muscular body, atheism giving way to worship at church every Sunday, even if he spent most of the time distracted, checking out the girls present. And speaking of girls, nights of sex, just banging them in the ass to keep his virginity intact, and when a girl refused, there was always a twink willing to step in. After all hole’s a hole. Then there was the end of school five years ago and the move to Seattle, working as a personal trainer during the day and a bartender at Shooters at night, the apartment shared with Chuck and Ken, and all the possible and imaginable orgies they had . He knew that, as a good Christian, he’d eventually have to give it all up, settle down, and start a family, but until then, the single life was too good to pass up, and he was gonna enjoy it. And even after he gets married if the desire arises, well a man has his needs and one thing he has learned is that no one is a better bottom than a slut boy desperate for a fuck.

“No… no… what the hell…. This can’t be real…” Alois grumbled as he tried to move towards the phone that he now knew had to be the source of this whole bizarre situation. However, with every step he took, his muscles expanded. His skinny chest exploded into slabs of meat that are now pecs, below his abs form into six brick-like blocks, and his arms and legs thicken to a considerable size. His hair grew longer in well-kept waves, and that infamous mustache sprouted and grew on a more masculine and angular face. At the same time, the room he was in transformed, and he found himself on the other side of the city, in the place he had just left a little over 40 minutes ago.

When he got to the phone, Allen adjusted it, fixing the camera angle. That video was gonna be perfect for his TikTok, especially with that new version of Benson Boone’s song, one he’d used in a bunch of other videos, but this remix version was fire.

Fixing his hair and flexing his powerful muscles, he smiled at the camera.

“Yo, what’s up, fam? Today’s heavy lifting day and a wild night at Shooters. If anyone’s interested in what I’m packing here, just swing by or hit up the link to my OnlyFans in the bio. Only for the grown folks, are you really gonna miss out on this?” he wrapped up, crossing his arms in front of his body and flashing one of those grins at the camera.

“Damn, that looks so good!” he said, posting the video on TikTok and heading towards the living room of the apartment he shared with Chuck and Ken, not even bothering to shower. He had a new client coming to the gym in the next hour, so why waste time on more than one shower? “Tonight’s gonna be lit for sure, guys,” he said, talking to his roommates.

“Are you talking about the Indian skinny boy who’s training with you?”

“Ugh, definitely not. Dudes like him are for when there are no other options. But it wouldn’t be a Friday night if Big Al didn’t get some real action.!” He said grabbing his cock and balls over his shorts, laughing. "I can't wait to get some ass." He concludes while shaking his huge cock out of his shorts and making everyone burst out laughing.

“We’re all gonna get some, man. Chuck’s been spreading the word in an exchange class; soon, it’ll be packed with foreign slutty chicks and twinks looking for an American dick, and we can bang them all we want, Red.” Said Ken with a mischievous grin.

"And God bless that! "Chuck added beside him with an identical smile, which was also mirrored on Allen's face.

...

Allen was sitting on a bench in front of the gym, waiting for his new student, a scrawny Indian dude from the exchange program named Arjun.

“You coming, bro?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way. Got held up.”

“So, meet me in the gym locker room so we don’t waste time. In the meantime, check this out,” Allen said, sending the link to Yas and Nico podcast, she was a hot babe even if she seems as dumb as a rock. Not that he cared much about that at all; she was hot, and that was good enough for him, and that Nico had a very fuckable butt. He didn’t even stop to think about why he was sending that video; it just felt like something he should do.

.....

While he was chilling on a bench in the gym locker room, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he didn’t notice the transformation happening to his student right behind him. The skinny Arjun was rapidly inflating with muscles and attitude without Allen even realizing it. It was only when he looked up and saw a dude of Indian descent with silky hair and the infamous mustache, wearing nothing but gym shorts, casually scratching his powerful pecs.

“Art, you still haven’t finished getting dressed, you asshole? We gotta workout, take some pics of our pump for OnlyFans and hit the bar shift afterwards.”

“Chill, Al, I’m getting ready. It’s not like your muscles are gonna disappear because of a five minute delay in your workout.”

“Five minutes is already too much,” he replied, flexing his arms and smiling arrogantly. “Tonight, I want the max pump in these Beautiful Things I’ve got.”

[dollieseo]

TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME AGAIN.

SYNOPSIS. you unintentionally became close to ning yizhuo as trainees. she made it into aespa, you didn’t. after you left sm and debuted with le sserafim, the desire to reconnect is heavy, but it’s not as easy as it sounds.

FEATURING. ningning x le sserafim 6th member reader

WARNINGS. none, maybe a little angsty tho idk

AUTHORS NOTE. first fic hello!! inspired by this song

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

you came to sm entertainment with the sole purpose of becoming an idol. it’s all you’ve ever wanted since you were eight years old. it wasn’t to make friends or build relationships; you wanted to work.

you kept to yourself during your trainee period, never really getting close to anyone. the trainee system was a twisted game and one small mistake could get you sent home. you’ve seen it happen with other trainees who were friends. one would be let go and the other left without their other half. you didn’t want any of that to get in the way of your goal.

ning yizhuo joined the company a year after you did. she was young, only a year younger than you. you remember the first time you officially met her in the practice room, which was completely by accident by the way.

as you walked through the company halls, going to your reserved practice time, you could faintly hear music playing from the practice room, which you found odd. you decided to slowly crack the door open to peek through and saw the younger girl practicing the choreography to into the new world. you know that she was new, maybe two weeks in? it makes sense that she wouldn’t know about your routine. you debated on just leaving and finding a different room, but decide against it.

as soon and you fully entered the practice room she seemed to take notice, jumping in surprise and instantly turning to greet you. you watched as she rushed to turn the music off, it was a little comedic. she hesitantly walked towards you, not really knowing what to say. you could sense the confusion on her face.

“this is my usual rehearsal time here,” you begin, and before yizhuo can spew out apologies, you continue, “it’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“i’m sorry, i can leave,” she managed, looking down at the floor. you feel a little bad, figuring she was probably embarrassed. you sigh, “no, it’s okay,”

‘what the fuck are you doing?’

“you’re practicing into the new world, right?”

she nods.

“we can practice together.” you decide. her face lights up, eyes gleaming, but you instantly regret you words. normally, you prefer practicing alone and being the only person to see the process of fixing your flaws and improving. but going by her reaction she probably wouldn’t think to judge you on anything.

“really?” she asks and you nod, walking towards the speaker to turn the music back on. “come on.”

you and yizhuo spend the next few hours practicing (more like you spend most of the time practicing while she stands there watching, admiring your movements). you were a dancer long before you joined sm, so you ended up helping her with the choreography after seeing her struggle, giving her tips and pointers to help her improve. you thought it was cute how intensely she took in your every word, mentally taking note of every detail you told her.

since that day she insisted on sticking with you. as much as you internally protested, you didn’t do much to keep her away. how could you? she was, what, barely 14? and she was new to the industry. even though you were only a year older than her, you didn’t have the heart to leave her on her own.

the two of you grew close unexpectedly fast, practicing together whenever you didn’t have individual lessons, spending hours in the practice room sometimes not even doing anything, just sitting against the mirrors and having random conversations that ended with both of you in tears from laughing so hard. as time went on, it became relatively known around the company that the two of you were a duo, not one left without the other.

as much as you like yizhuo, or ningning as she would be called after being introduced as an sm rookie, you always curse yourself thinking back to your previous views on building relationships as a trainee. you still have that opinion, but even as the two of you grew up you can’t bring yourself to stay away from her. you don’t want to.

after about four years together, the time came for sm’s newest girl group to be officially formed. for the last few months the company played with lineup, adding and removing girls almost every few weeks. you and ningning were apart of the group of girls considered for the final lineup, along with yu jimin and kim minjeong.

after what felt like an eternity of uncertainty, the company finally announced who would be in the final lineup. many were sure that you would be included, being an sm rookie who ranked highly at monthly evaluations. you were confident too.

however, while you all were practicing, a staff member brought in another girl and asked you to come out. you recognized her as uchinaga aeri, who only joined the company a few months ago. you looked around skeptically, but followed the staff member out of the room and into the hallway.

honestly, you can’t really recall everything that was said to you. all you remember is something along the lines of your removal and the world falling silent. everything stopped in that moment and you wondered if you were dreaming. you didn’t want to believe it but the somber look on the staff’s face solidified it for you.

you didn’t make it.

that day, you left practice early. yizhuo, along with jimin, minjeong, and aeri had to stay later to practice for their debut. before you left, you stopped to give yizhuo a hug, reassuring and congratulating her. you could tell that she was having mixed emotions. she was happy to debut but she wanted to do it with you. though her face was buried into your shoulder, you heard her mutter a ‘i’ll see you later,’ before letting go.

she didn’t expect to see your side of the room empty when she came back to the dorms that night. all of your belongings; polaroids on the wall, your comforter that she preferred sleeping on more than her own, everything you had was gone. and you didn’t even tell her.

you joined source music about two years later, being added to their debut team almost instantly along with two former iz*one members, sakura and chaewon, and huh yunjin, who you recognized from produce 48 and swore you’ve seen around the sm building a few times. kazuha and eunchae joined not too long after you did, and at first you were a bit threatened by their addition. you feared that they were your replacements and that it’d only be a matter of time before you’d be cut from the group.

however, the six of you worked amazingly together, and after getting over the initial doubt, got along great. you all had that balance of being genuine friends and colleagues. you finally felt like things were going your way.

the success of le sserafim’s debut was massive, some mixed reviews about the title track, but the album sold well and you guys got a few music show wins, which you never would’ve imagined for your debut.

as time went on, your career only went up. you attended award shows, held concerts, had fans. you were living your dream, and although you never expected it to be with these girls, you were happy nonetheless.

you thought about ningning a lot. it was hard not to, now that you were an idol. le sserafim and aespa were always in the same conversation when it came to top 4th generation girl groups. you felt indifferent about it. you wanted to move on from the past, but you were also glad that both of you were able to achieve your dreams, even if it wasn’t together.

you don’t get many days off being in the prime of your career, which you’ve always expected. today though, as comeback promotions for unforgiven came to an end, you hoped to spend today laying in bed and watching netflix, allowing your body to reset from such a hectic schedule.

keyword: hoped.

the sound of your phone ringing makes you dramatically groan. silently hoping it wasn’t anyone important you glance at your phone to see an unsaved phone number. normally, you’re told not to answer calls from unknown numbers, the main reason being that it’ll most likely be a sasaeng. but you recognize this number, even though it isn’t saved in your phone.

“hello?”

“unnie.”

you’ve played a thousand different scenarios in your head, thinking of what to say in any situation where you would see yizhuo again. yet when that time finally came, all of your hypotheticals went completely out the window. you didn’t think her calling you would be that first interaction in three years.

“how’d you get my number?” is what you decide to say. you changed your number after leaving sm, but you still remembered hers.

“minjeong unnie gave it to me,” she answered. you internally curse, figuring she got your number from chaewon. it’s not like you’re mad or upset that she called, you just weren’t expecting it nor were you prepared for it.

“can you come over to the dorms? i wanna talk to you.” yizhuo asks.

“we’re talking right now,” you play dumb. again, you’re not prepared for this.

“i mean in person, unnie.”

you think about giving her the excuse of being busy, you should give her that excuse. but you don’t know when you’ll both be free to talk again. you want to take that opportunity.

“okay,” you decide.

your arrival to aespa’s dorm surprises all of the members. jimin, who answers the door, instantly wraps you in a hug and aeri and minjeong, who were sitting on the couch jump up to do the same the moment they see you.

you tell them that yizhuo invited you over and jimin lets you know that she’s in their room. you thank her and head over, giving the cracked door two light knocks before fully opening it.

you’ve seen her around and on tv this past year so it wasn’t like you really haven’t seen her in three years, but your breath still hitches when you lay eyes on her. when she sees you, she smiles widely. it reminds you of when you two were trainees.

“you came!”

you snorted, “did you think i wasn’t?” you gently close the door behind you before crossing your arms and slowly walking towards her bed where she was sitting.

“you could’ve,” she shrugs. “considering you left without telling me, you could’ve not come and not told me.”

you sigh and sit down next to her. “i’m sorry.”

that day, and the many days following, hurt. it hurt you to feel like you spent so much time working hard just to fail. you didn’t think it would hurt yizhuo nearly as much. you didn’t think about how much she missed you or how long she spent crying after realizing you had left.

the room falls silent, both of you unsure of what else to say to each other. there’s a million things you two could talk about but neither of you do, afraid of rehashing more bad memories. instead you make yourself comfortable and lie back, resting you hand on your stomach. yizhuo does the same and the silence becomes comfortable, both of you cherishing this moment; being together again.

“i was in love with you, you know.” you decide to casually let out, hiding the nervousness in your voice. you’re scared of how she’ll respond. she could laugh in your face, or just straight up reject you, even though you weren’t exactly confessing, and make things awkward again.

but yizhuo does the opposite of what you were expecting.

“you were?” she suddenly sits up and locks eyes with you. you think she looks like a doll with her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. you take a moment to admire her while she takes that moment to fully comprehend what you said. her mouth closes and her eyes furrow at her realization. “was,” she repeats, tilting her head. “you’re not anymore?” her voice goes quiet, as if she’s scared to ask. maybe she was, but why?

“not really,” you glance at her before looking back towards the ceiling. you don’t want to see her reaction, though you can feel her entire body deject into the bed and hear her mumble a small ‘oh’.

“why not?”

“hm?”

“why don’t you love me anymore?”

“i don’t know if you noticed, yizhuo, but i’ve been avoiding you since you debuted. kinda hard to keep feelings for someone you don’t see anymore.” it seems harsh but you hope your light hearted tone doesn’t make it sound that way.

“you didn’t have to avoid me. i would still been your friend─”

“it wasn’t about you,” you interrupt, sighing before finally sitting up to fully face her. “i was pissed and jealous and seeing you on tv would’ve only made me hate you. i don’t want to hate you.”

even after you debuted in le sserafim you tried to avoid her, and all of aespa for that matter. it was nothing against the girls but you couldn’t help the bitterness that filled you when you thought about the fact that you didn’t make the lineup.

you figured she’d have more to say after you revealed the truth, but nothing came out of her mouth. you could only read the disappointment on her face.

“what, were you expecting something different?” you ask after a long period of uncomfortable silence.

“i was hoping you’d say that you still love me,” she reveals, opting to look at her hands placed in her lap rather than at you.

“why?” you already know the answer. you just want to hear her say it.

“because i loved you,” she pauses, “and i never stopped.”

oh.

you should’ve known that something like this would happen, and maybe you did. maybe there was a rational part of your brain screaming at you not to go see her and you just didn’t listen. maybe deep down you still loved her, but the fear of losing again repressed that love. yizhuo or your career? you don’t know. the idol industry is a twisted game where one small mistake could cost you your entire career and if you have to lose one, you figure that losing the chance of loving her is better than losing the career you both worked years for.

“i’m sorry, yizhuo.” you whisper. it’s all you can muster up to say. you tell yourself that it’s better this way. sure, she’s hurt now but she’ll get over it. just like you did, or at least pretended to.

[heirloomgem]

No one else But you {Nanami Kento x Reader September One-Shot}

Summary: You have always loved Nanami since childhood however you learned that he has someone he loves. Would you confess or not?

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning/Genre: OOC, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Comedy, Depression AU (Sorry for the miss grammar)

Sorry for the long wait! HERE IT IS! I hope you enjoyed it!

CEO Nanami Kento x Reader (slight mention of Geto x Gojo)

You have experienced unrequited crushes since you were a teenager; however, a painful unrequited love is a first for you.

Back when you were in high school, you had a crush on your senior, Gojo Satoru.

You had long forgotten what made you fall for such an idiotic man.

It might have been his charisma, his handsome face, his beautiful eyes, or his skills in being good at anything he took interest in.

However, that only lasted in your second year of high school. Satoru, on the other hand, was in his last year, preparing for graduation and entering college life.

You didn’t know how your group had formed with the famous 3rd-year trio.

But Kento and Yu have been your childhood friends since your family moved into their neighbourhood. So being admitted into the same school was no surprise.

Yet at some point in time, your group somehow merged with the 3rd year trio who were popular in their year.

One is Gojo Satoru for his loud and charismatic personality combined with his handsome face, eccentric hair and blue eyes.

Second is Geto Suguru for his mysterious and calm persona. He's also handsome with his long black hair, which seems to tantalize girls and adds to his charm.

And lastly, one of the school beauties is Ieri Shoko, a brown-haired beauty. She was one of the top students in your school, admitted to a prestigious medical university.

Of course, the two were the same, they were guaranteed a spot in the top college of their own choice.

It was quite comical really. A group of juniors being grouped together with some 3rd years.

Even up to this day, it astonished you how your group had formed, but you could still recall it. It was because of your crush on Gojo that these unlikely people had met and formed.

As the years passed, the two completely different groups of friends remained in touch and grew even closer, especially as you all entered college and made new friends. Your group seems to grow bigger.

In one of your favourite restaurant bars, some of your friends were already there and had started drinking by the time you arrived.

Gojo seems to have taken on the role of a host as Geto and some of your friends have yet to come.

The same could be said about your two childhood friends.

Yu was on his way to pick up his girlfriend from work. They would arrive together later, while Kento was still busy at work with Geto, working on a collaboration project.

Both of them had become the CEO of their own company. Each works really hard to create their own.

You couldn't be more proud of Kento for achieving his dream.

Sitting down in one of the booths, you ordered a drink. Watching as your white-haired friend drank and tried to liven up the party. At the same time, teasing and making fun of your friends and catching up.

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

Even though you were in a bar, it was a quiet one. One where you could have a drink and relax with soft music playing in the background.

The bar is illuminated with a cozy ambient from the lights. It was one of your favourites because of the atmosphere and the delicious cocktails and foods they make.

The bartender owner greeted you with a smile and served your drink. Taking a sip, you savour the sweet flavour and alcohol on your tongue, feeling the fatigue slowly ease from your body.

Your shoulders, tense from all the work, relaxed unknowingly.

Turning around, you started chatting with your friends, laughing and catching up, and ordering foods to fill your stomach.

As the alcohol flowed and the atmosphere warmed up, some people's tongues loosened and gossip started flowing.

Flicking the ash from her cigarette, Shoko asked, "So, how's it going with Nanami? I've noticed something more between the two of you lately."

You looked up at your friend, your eyebrow furrowing in confusion.

"What do you mean?" You asked. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Your friend rolled her eyes, her voice lazy as she teased you.

"You and Nanami. What? Don't tell me you haven't confessed even though he has already returned from abroad. You should take the chance. Don't wait for him to confess first, or you might miss your chance."

Hearing this, you panicked and tried to cover her mouth. However, it was in vain as your other friends turned their heads in your direction, curiosity in their eyes, ready to hear more about this juicy gossip.

Shoko just laughed and gave you a smirk.

"It's not like others don't know… more like they already know your painstaking love for your childhood friend for a long time"

She exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke and watched it drift lazily into the air.

"My dear, you wear your heart on your sleeve too easily. The only one who doesn't know is your beloved Nanami."

“Shoko, please! Will you be quiet!” You pleaded as you leaned over and tapped her on the arm, feeling your face flush.

Groaning, you buried your face in your hand.

"Hmm? What's this? I heard something about Y/n and Nanami. Is there something going on?" Gojo asked in a sing-along tone as he came over.

It seems the commotion between you and Shoko caught his attention and now he's ready to milk you dry for gossip, even though you have none.

“Nothing is going on,” You stated as you gave Gojo a slight glare, warning him to drop the topic. But the man seemed to not get the hint or if he did, he ignored it, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, come on now. Don't be stingy."

You groaned again as you shook your head, feeling an incoming headache already.

Taking a sip of your new cocktail, you tried to ignore the man and hoped he would drop the topic. However, Shoko and Gojo didn't seem keen on stopping as they continued to tease you.

“I was just asking about her and Nanami,” Shoko said as she gave a knowing look at Gojo.

Gojo smirked as he glanced at you, taking the hint. A mischievous glint in his eyes.

“And here I thought you were still crushing on me. How could you cheat on me, Y/n?” He pouted, his smooth lips jutting out and the corners of his eyes pointing down as he looked aggrieved at you.

“I didn’t know that you and Nanami were in that kind of relationship.”

“We’re not.” You snapped, starting to get annoyed at the man-child in front of you.

Both of your friends gave you a look, not believing you in the slightest.

"Just admit it, Y/n. We've seen how sad you were when Nanami went abroad to study. You were so wrecked that you lost so much weight and almost failed your first year of University. You were so miserable without him."

Shoko raised a brow at you as if proving a point, continuing.

"We've also known that you have always loved Nanami all this time, even though you had a little bit of 'scandal' with this idiot here."

She pointed at Gojo, who placed a hand over his heart and appeared offended.

"What scandal? Miss, for your information, I have always been a clean man." He stated, his chin pointing up, being dramatic.

You rolled your eyes at him for his exaggeration and turned your head to avoid your friends' inquisitive looks.

You admit that you had a crush on Gojo when you were in high school. You were attracted to his confident personality and handsome face, but that only lasted until graduation.

However, when Kento went abroad to further his education, that's when you realized that your feelings for him were more than just being a childhood friend.

You were in love with him.

You just never realized it. Since growing up, you have been so used to having him by your side that you have unconsciously taken his presence for granted

But when he left, you felt a massive hole open in your heart. An empty feeling inside you as if another part of you has gone missing.

Because of it, you slowly spiralled down from the sudden realization, leaving you a mess.

You have been in contact with Kento through text, but as time passed, it became harder to maintain. With the time difference between where Kento is and how busy you have been with your University life, your contacts slowly dwindled.

And now it has been almost a year before he contacted you again.

Picking up your phone without checking the caller ID, your eyes instantly reddened when you heard his voice, calm and composed as ever.

"How have you been, Y/n?"

It was Kento.

You choked back a sob as tears slowly gathered in your eyes. A deep ache echoed inside you. How much you have missed his voice.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your voice, not wanting to give anything away, as you know that even a little he would be able to pick up on it.

"I'm doing well. Just busy with school. I didn't anticipate our professor assigning such a huge project right at the start and it seems to keep piling up no matter what."

You scold yourself. Of all the things you have to say, you just have to complain to him even though he finally contacted you after such a long time.

"How have you been, Kento? I hope you're doing well. I've heard that winter there was harsher than here," You awkwardly chuckled, trying to play it off.

"It's not too bad, but I do miss the weather there." Kento's short answer tugged at your heartstrings. Slowly, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek. You blinked hard, trying to stop the others from falling.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Kento spoke again.

"....I heard from Yu. It seems you haven't been doing well."

You froze.

You didn't expect Yu to tell Kento about your condition, though with the anxious looks he's been giving you lately, you guess it was a given.

Looking at yourself in the window, your reflection stared back at you. You noticed the dark, hollowed cheeks, dark circles under your eyes, and dry lips.

Your body had obviously lost so much weight that you could feel your bones protruding. Your arms and legs were nothing but nearly skin and bones. Your face is gaunt and haggard.

It appears that no matter how much you hide your circumstances from your friends, it was pointless, especially from Yu.

You realize what a mess you really were in. How much of an asshole you have been for making your friends worry to the point that they have to contact Kento about you.

You gave a strained laugh, "They're worrying too much. It's just...university has been a little tough. I'm still in my first year so it's a given-"

"Don't lie, Y/n." Kento interrupted, his stern voice making it impossible for you to utter another lie.

He's always been like this. He always knew when you were lying.

The tears you had been holding back came crashing down, and all the pent-up emotions you had been suppressing came pouring out like a tidal wave. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing, and your shoulders shook with sobs.

You pulled the phone away from your ear, trying to muffle your sobs and you couldn't help but whisper, "...I miss you so much, Kento."

And just like that, with a few words, Kento was able to break the dam in your heart.

Your cries came out softly, but you were sure Kento heard you. He didn't end the call, but stayed silent, giving you a moment to let it all out and calm down.

Even though Kento was thousands of miles away, you felt his presence beside you, listening and never leaving you. You knew that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

After a few minutes had passed, you wiped your tears and tried to compose yourself but the soft hiccups still escaped your mouth.

"Y/n" Kento whispered, his voice incredibly soft and tender, soothing your turbulent heart.

"...hmm"

"I'll come back. Wait for me, okay?"

The tears, you thought you had finally stopped from earlier, flowed down your face again.

You swear Kento has a knack for making you cry so easily lately you couldn't help but ponder just where he learned such a thing.

Sniffling, you nodded however you remembered that he couldn't see you.

"Mmm..." You gave a soft reply as you sobbed and cried again.

What he said wasn't a promise but a statement.

You know that Kento doesn't make promises because he finds them nonsense and fragile. But you also know that he is a man of his word, and when he says something, he means it.

So when he says he'll come back, you know he will.

It was one of the reasons why you have loved this man.

You made a resolve to start getting back on your feet and working towards a goal.

You were determined to face Kento when he returned with the best version of yourself. Not wanting to show such a miserable wreck that you once were.

If he ever rejects you, at least you can say that you did everything you could and gave it your best. That way, you won't have any regrets.

"Ah~ but I've heard that Nanami has someone he has been in love though."

Gojo's voice snapped you out of your reverie, and a pang of realization washed over you.

It made you remember why you had been so distant from Kento lately.

When Kento finally returned from his studies abroad, you were the first one to greet him at the airport.

You were shocked by how much he had changed. The boy you knew from years ago was now a man.

Mature and calm. Taller with broad shoulders and a lean waist, handsome with a slender brow and sharp eyes, the naivete that was once there is gone.

Instead of a high school uniform, Kento now wears a suit, and his hair is slicked back with an undercut.

No more of the side bangs that you once always played with.

He was so different yet still the same.

He still has that same stern and reserved personality but cares for those close to him, especially to you.

Once you two reunited, you were so happy. You made sure to always try to meet him despite your busy schedule, trying to make up for all those years that you were apart.

At the same time, you also wanted to show your interest but you also know to show some restraint. You didn't want to scare him.

For now, you were content that he was back.

However, one afternoon, just as you were about to meet with Kento to ask him out to dinner, you overheard a conversation between Geto and Gojo.

The conversation was about Kento, and you couldn't help but eavesdrop.

Geto and Kento had recently started a joint project for their two companies.

So it was no coincidence that you found him in Kento's company's rest areas while Gojo was one of the biggest shareholders in Geto's company. It was a given he was also a part of the project.

You took a step back so as not to be spotted and heard your white-haired friend ask if Kento had a girlfriend as one of his female coworkers seems to be interested in your childhood friend.

Hearing this you couldn't help but frown, your hand clenching and a sour feeling rose in your chest.

Geto chuckled and shook his head.

"Really?" Gojo asked in surprise.

"I thought for sure he had a girlfriend since he seems to be the type to settle down first. Or maybe even a fiance."

"No, he doesn't have one but he does have a girl he really loves," Geto said as he exhaled a puff of smoke, tapping his cigarette.

"He was planning to ask her to be his girlfriend, but something happened and it didn't work out. However, I heard from him that he's planning to ask her again."

Gojo perked up.

"Really! Who is it? Who is Nanami in love with? Do I know her?" He asked excitedly, leaning forward as curiosity got the better of him.

Geto only chuckled at the man's antics before patting him on the head, telling him it wasn't appropriate to tell too much as it was not his place to share such a secret.

Gojo could only whine at his friend and dropped the subject, understanding that no matter how much he pestered Geto, his friend would not budge and reveal the identity of the woman Nanami was in love with.

He instead brought up a new topic to discuss, leaving you wondering who was the girl Kento was in love with.

You were stunned. A myriad of emotions surged through your mind in an instant but eventually, they all melted into a strong feeling of bitterness.

No wonder Kento never had a girlfriend for so many years. It turned out he had someone in his heart all along and now he seems intent on getting back with that girl.

You couldn't help but wonder.

What kind of girl does he like? What does the girl Kento love, look like? If that girl came back to him, would he surrender immediately and reconcile with her?

You even absurdly imagine them together.

Feeling a sob escape your mouth, you hurriedly went home that day, cancelling on Kento through a short message. You didn't call him as you didn't trust your voice not to tremble once you heard his voice.

That day, you drank until you couldn't stand.

You were glad you were home and never went out, otherwise you would have called Kento and made a mess of things, which you would have regretted later.

However, ever since then, you have distanced yourself from him.

Avoiding every gathering with your friends to try to minimize the chances of running into him.

You respect Kento too much to burden him with your feelings and ruin everything. You might resent the fact that the girl he loves might not be you but you still wanted to be friends with him no matter what.

Besides, you also have your own principles that you abide by, not wanting to put yourself in a complicated situation if the girl returns.

But by avoiding him so suddenly, he quickly noticed.

He tried to call you, wanting to confront you about such a sudden change.

You could only make an excuse that you were busy with work, but he knew that wasn't the whole truth.

And since knowing Kento for so long, you already know he wasn't the type to let this matter pester for so long and would eventually resort to seeing you in person.

However, you didn't want to see him, not until you could sort out your feelings for him or else you risk breaking down in front of him.

Without any other choice, you quickly set up to go on a business trip.

Successfully stopping him from seeing you as he wouldn't be able to chase after you because his company was in a crucial situation with the current project he was working on.

Thanks to it, you have been able to avoid him completely however, this time you couldn't turn down the invitation as one of your friends is getting engaged.

You knew you couldn't hide forever, and you didn't want to miss your friend's special day so, in the end, you concede.

Meeting him became inevitable.

Anxious and nervous, you have been drinking a lot since the moment you sat down, trying to calm your nerves and distract yourself.

But once they started talking about Kento and you, the bitter feelings you had been able to push back slowly rose in your chest and your mood turned sour.

You unconsciously started drinking heavily and because of it, your temper became fickle.

Eyeing the man in front of you, childishly making fun of your previous crush on him and on Kento, you couldn't help but realize that the man-child in front of you was the reason why this all started.

Suddenly, the urge to wipe that grin off his face with a slap was so dangerously tempting that your hand twitched.

However, you have been a person to never resort to such action and unnecessary violence. So you tried to think of something, attempting to divert your attention or else you might just do it.

You sigh to calm down but a dark expression still shows on your face.

Seeing this, Gojo eye's gleam with mischievous, unaware that he had stepped a foot on his grave, pushing you over the edge.

"What? Someone's jealous? Maybe I should try being your cupid and set you up with Nanami? Hmm? Maybe by then, I could give your pretty little ass a boost and not be a coward anymore."

Your lip twitched.

Maybe wiping that smug look on his face isn't so bad after all, you thought.

Lifting a hand and caressing his cheeks, you caught him off guard.

You gave a dark smile and a shiver involuntary went down his spine, his back sweating bullets.

SMACK!

Walking out of their own car and heading to the restaurant bar, Nanami and Geto let out a sigh of relief, taking off their jacket and loosened their tie.

They have just finished a meeting that has gone on for hours than necessary.

And now having finally finished, all they wanted was to drink, eat and relax throughout the night before being plunged to work the next day.

However, when they entered the bar, what awaited them was not what they had expected as they witnessed you and Gojo in the middle of the bar, engaged in a brawl.

Clearly, both of you were drunk as your faces were red not only from anger but from the alcohol as well. Your words slurring as the two of you yelled at each other.

What started as a harmless teasing quickly escalated into a messy, comedic fight for your friends to witness.

Holding onto Gojo's shirt and the other on his hair, the tall man has no other choice but to bend down as he did the same to you.

Some scratches and light bruises scattered throughout your body and face. Your clothes and hair a mess.

Gojo shouted, "I'm a liar?! What I said is the truth! You're a goddamn coward!"

"You say I'm a coward, what makes you then?!" You shouted as well, breathing heavily and glared at him.

You tug at his hair earning a yelp.

"Don't think I'm clueless you goddamn man-child. I saw it when you two graduated and Geto-senpai confessed! All these years and your relationship hasn't progressed at all! You two have been together and never left each other side and yet you haven't admitted that you love him. You've done nothing but play him all along."

A vein bulged at his forehead, irritated, Gojo pulled at your hair making you groan.

"Shut up you goddamn woman!"

"Fuck you! You white hair old bastard! Just fucking go and splayed your goddamn legs in front of Geto-senpai and finally get laid! You horny bastard!"

You yelled while your friends who have been calmly watching the whole time, even the owner, laughed at your nonsense screaming match.

That right.

When you secretly witness Geto's confession to Gojo on their graduation day that's when you realize.

Your crush for Gojo was nothing more than an admiration because of his confidence. Confidence in being himself while he unknowingly becomes a love-struck fool for Geto.

You envy and wanted that.

You wanted to be a love-struck fool for Kento but your insecurity and low self-esteem prevented you from confessing your love for the handsome man.

However, seeing that this goddamn idiot had done nothing when he had all the chance in the world while you, on the other hand, were a mess, missing Kento, who was abroad and had no face to confess since the memories of you crushing on such an idiotic guy were still fresh in everyone's mind, made you angry to no end.

You slump as your knees got weak not just from the alcohol but from all the feelings you have been holding back, your previous energy leaving you as the bitter feelings spread inside you.

Tears started flowing and falling on your cheeks without your permission. Seeing this Gojo froze, his grip loosening and the once lively bar slowly quieted as you softly cried.

"No...I'm the goddamn idiot here... I've also had the chance... the chance to confess and love Kento but because I'm a coward I didn't take it..."

You admitted.

That's right. You were angry not only because of this bastard but mostly at yourself for being the biggest idiot ever.

And now, learning that Kento has someone he loves and is thinking of being engaged with her.

Regret filled you to the point of suffocation.

"I only had myself to blame..."

You whimper, now completely drunk as you lose coherence and kneel on the floor.

You felt as though everything was crumbling. Slowly losing your mind as you sink further in your sorrow.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed your waist, lifting you from the floor and pulling you away from Gojo's grasp.

You were brought into a warm embrace, your head resting on a broad chest.

It was then that you heard Kento's voice.

Deep, calm and mature, a voice that always makes your heart flutter and the voice that you have come to love.

"I'll be taking her home as she's too drunk," Kento said, carrying you in his arms as he talked to your friends while Geto dealt with Gojo.

You couldn't help but nuzzle further in his arms, burying your head in his neck and hugging him tightly. Unknowingly, Kento's breath hitched and his heart quivered from your actions.

Geto nodded, saying he'd be taking Gojo as well who was completely drunk, his head was swaying from all directions. His legs no longer had any strength to hold him, already unconscious.

Adjusting you in his arms, Nanami looked at you and found that you were completely unconscious.

He sighs but an undeniable faint blush on the corner of his cheeks and ears can be seen if you look closely.

Ieri who had been enjoying the show and her drinks, saw it and she smiled knowingly as she watched Nanami take your things.

"Nanami" Ierie called and Nanami looked at her.

"Be nice to her, okay?"

Nanami's expression didn't change, but he replied softly, "I will."

Nodding at your friends and the bar owner, Nanami carried you out and into his car that was parked outside.

He opened the car door and put you down, taking a moment to look at you and saw your tear-streaked face.

When he reached out to wipe away your tears, your lashes brushed against his fingers. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm down then got into the driver's seat, intent to take you home.

This time, he was determined to talk to you, even if you didn't want to. He wasn't going to let you go anytime soon.

Waking up, you groggily sat up as you looked around.

Clearly, it wasn't your room as the bedsheets were different. They were grey coloured and quite soft made of a different material from the ones you use.

The pieces of furniture were simple but obviously high-end and looked strangely familiar.

You didn't know how you got here nor did you remember what happened after you slapped Gojo but the feeling of being carried lingered in the back of your mind.

"Your awake." A deep husky voice said as the door opened.

It was Kento, holding a glass of water.

It finally dawned on you that you were in his place. You have been into his apartment a few times in the past however this was your first time staying over.

A nervous feeling settled in your stomach and felt your cheeks flushing. Whether from the lingering alcohol on your body or because of your feelings and the situation you are in, you don't know.

Still drunk and dazed, you obediently accepted the glass of water and took a few sips before setting it down on the nightstand.

An awkward silence envelops the two of you as Kento sat at the edge of the bed. His arms rested on his thigh and looking at you from the corner of his eyes, deep in thought.

You fidgeted. Your head lowered as you played with the bedsheet in your hand, feeling the soft fabric. You didn't know whether you should talk or not.

From the corner of your eyes, you stare at the man that you have been avoiding these past couple of weeks.

Two of his dress shirt buttons were undone, revealing his slender neck and chest, showing a hint of his muscular physique.

His sleeves were rolled up and you couldn't help but gaze at his forearms. The veins stood out along his arms, and his hands were large with defined knuckles and slender fingers.

His hair was slick back however few strands were sticking out, clearly messed up after a long day.

You might have been drunk nevertheless you still remember bit and pieces how he has carefully brought you from his car to his room.

Gently carrying you, laying you down and assisting you change from your work clothes to one of his.

Helplessly you thought, how could a man be so handsome and so caring at the same time.

Your eyes reddened.

The sour feeling from before sprang up again and tears gathered in your eyes.

Lifting a trembling hand, you covered your mouth as a sob escaped, trying to hide it, not wanting to make the situation worse.

You felt the bed shift then two rough and large hands cup your cheeks, raising your face.

Completely opposite from his usual reserve and stern expression, Kento looks at you with concern in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" He asked, voice gentle and soft trying to calm you however hearing such tenderness, your cries seemed to grow even louder.

You stayed quiet. Pondering whether to confess everything or not, however, your heart got the best of you and you blurted.

"I love you. I love you, Kento. I have been ever since. I have always loved you... Please don't leave me." You cried as you confessed, your words became disjointed and frantic as you went on.

You didn't know what was Kento's reaction as large tears rolled down from your eyes, obscuring your vision.

You were sure you looked pathetic at that moment as you cried but that didn't matter anymore as you let it all out.

Long years of repressed emotions have completely overwhelmed you.

Your regret when Kento left, your joy when the two of you reunited. The searing pain of learning the truth that Kento has someone in his heart.

The jealousy and sorrow you drowned in as you distance yourself and finally the overwhelming love you hold for the man in front of you.

As you continued crying and repeating your confession like a broken record, warm lips suddenly sealed your lips, stopping your words.

Kento kissed you.

A strong, fierce and almost devouring one with a mix of revenge, and seeking reparation.

It only seemed to deepen as you felt his hand grab the back of your neck while the other drew you closer and tightened his embrace, as if afraid you would disappear.

You couldn't resist and kiss him back with just as much passion as you could.

Lifting your arms, you hugged his neck and pulled him closer while Kento lifted you in his lap, straddling him.

You kissed as if the both of you couldn't bear to separate. Your tongues danced and lips melted with each other.

You couldn't help but let out a moan, calling his name in desperation. A sweet tingling sensation runs through your body, making your toes curl.

It wasn't until the need to breathe that you pulled back.

Resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes and felt your breaths intertwining.

Kento cups your face, caressing it and look into your eyes as you open them.

Longing, tenderness and adoration.

Emotions you never saw before now lingered in his eyes

"I love you too, Y/n." He said, his voice so tender and full of affection, it left you breathless.

"But what about the girl you like?"

Kento frowns, confusion in his eyes.

"I heard from Geto that you have someone you have loved for a long time." You quietly said.

Your voice trembling, just asking that question tormented you like no other but you had to.

You have to know who it is even if you are afraid of what Kento's answer might be.

Thinking this, your tears seemed like they would never dry as droplets fell on your cheeks.

Finally understanding what you mean and where you're coming from, Kento chuckled, wiping your cheeks and kissing you on the lips again before moving on to your neck where he felt your pulse.

"The person I love is you. I have loved you ever since and have always been. No one else but you."

You sat stunned for a moment as his confession slowly sank.

You sniffled and a fresh wave of tears fell however compared from before it was out of happiness.

Pulling Kento, you hugged him and fell onto the bed and this time, without reserve, you kissed him first.

Extra:

As morning came and illuminated the room in a soft light, Geto was just finishing his talk with Nanami on the phone when he heard the white-haired man in his bed groan in pain, holding his head.

Putting his phone away, Geto went to the kitchen to boil some water.

A few minutes later, he came back with a cup of honey lemon tea, handing it to Gojo.

Gojo who was in pain from a massive hang-over, didn't notice his friend staring at him in silence and quietly sip the hot tea.

"...So, is it true that you love me too?"

"PSHHH!"

Gojo spat out the tea, blushing, "..."

Let's just say another engagement party was arranged later on.

A/n: I had a hard time finishing writing this one shot.

It became longer and longer as I wrote when I was only planning to make a shorter one but then the plot just kept coming up and didn't know how to finish it. In the end, I had to torture myself to stick with it and finish it after more than 3 weeks of non-stop writing.

God, I'm such a masochist.😭

However, as I was writing the confession part, I couldn't help but start crying and I had to stop midway laughing at myself like a maniac. Oh my god.😭

I swear I won't be doing another long one-shot anytime soon. My brain was mush after this.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic! Please leave a comment on what you think!🥹

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

[detentiontrack]

Random sashannarcy headcanons because I’m obsessed with them and why not

They do NOT drift apart after amphibia. Anne and Sasha hang out frequently in high school and they have weekly zoom hang outs with Marcy (or more if one of them is having a rough time)

Amphibia only made the relationship between Sasha & her parents worse, so she spends a lot of time at Anne’s house.

All three of them get back into music. They play together and separately

Sasha doesn’t try out for cheerleading in high school and becomes less popular because she cares less about status

When Sasha cuts her hair, Anne is the one who cuts it for her and continues to trim it for her

They take turns visiting each other during school breaks

When they’re old enough, Sasha and Marcy get jobs to pay for plane tickets to visit each other (Anne continues working at thai go)

Marcy copes with her trauma through art. She draws pictures from amphibia and what she saw while her body was possessed by the core

Anne goes vegetarian because she can’t stand the smell of cooking/burning flesh after Marcy getting impaled by Andrias’s flaming sword

Sasha and Anne actually give creatures & caverns another chance, and they all play together!

Marcy frequently calls Sasha and Anne to infodump about her interests. They actually listen and ask questions and validate her this time.

Marcy has a phobia of being submerged in water, and even showers or rain are difficult on bad days. She didn’t remember being in the rejuvenation tank and didn’t know why she had this phobia until a couple years after amphibia when she suddenly remembered.

Sasha is the first to come out as queer after she realizes she’s bisexual during a therapy session about her past relationships. Marcy is the second to realize and comes out as a lesbian during high school. Anne always knew she liked girls, but didn’t accept it herself and come out to others until her senior year of high school.

Marcy graduated high school early and did her first year of college as an architecture major, but she was miserable and realized she wanted to pursue art instead towards the end of her freshman year.

Sasha started therapy immediately after amphibia, took an AP psych class in high school, and knew she wanted to go into psychology after that.

Anne didn’t plan for college at all during high school because she was busy having an existential crisis about literally becoming god after she dies, and she takes a gap year after high school. During that year, she gets really into studying frogs and realizes she wants to go into that field, and enrolls in community college close to home.

Them starting to date wasn’t really a huge thing. After amphibia, they were constantly talking and expressing their love to each other and taking every opportunity to cuddle and hold hands and all that. One summer, during a late night sleepover, they’re talking about their feelings and all come to the conclusion that they’re in love with each other. They have a moment of “do you guys want to be together? Yeah? I guess we’re in a relationship now” and then they move on to talking about creatures and caverns or whatever

Anne continues to do tennis in high school and community college, and that earns her a full athletic scholarship to the university of her choice where she continues to study herpetology.

Sasha continues going to therapy after she gets into a relationship with Anne & Marcy, and even brings them into a few sessions so she can make sure they don’t repeat the same mistakes.

After sashannarcy moves in together, they bring domino and adopt a kitten

During rainy days that trigger Marcy’s trauma, they cancel work or school and have a movie night with soft blankets and good snacks.

Anne can cook very well. Marcy can follow a simple recipe. Sasha is banned from cooking without supervision after the kitchen fire incident.

Mr & Mrs Boonchuy try and fail to act surprised when Anne tells them she’s a lesbian, and then don’t even try to act surprised when she tells them she’s dating Sasha & Marcy (they’ve known she’s a lesbian and in love with them for literal years. They just didn’t want to force her to tell them when she wasn’t ready)

Anne & Sasha go to the public high school instead of St James High School so they’re not known as “the girls who went missing”

They all have to take summer school and catch up classes because they missed so much school

Sasha has chronic back and leg pain from her injury while fighting Darcy. She also has a huge scar from her shoulders to her lower back.

Marcy still has a huge scar on her chest from being stabbed, and she has chronic lung problems and chronic pain as well from her injuries.

Whenever Sasha is anxious, she does Anne’s hair because the repetitive motions are calming to her. It always works out because Anne’s hair is always a mess. Sasha even gets really into curly hair maintenance and learns how to properly care for and style Anne’s hair (as long as there’s no leaves or sticks in her hair, Anne doesn’t care about hair care and won’t do it herself)

Sasha tried to cover up her face scar with makeup for a long time, but finally gave up and accepted it as a part of her

Sasha frequently gets scared of accidentally being controlling or manipulative again, which ends up in her being too passive or adapting people pleasing tendencies.

Anne gets really connected with nature after amphibia and goes on hikes and gets into gardening

Sasha gives up on trying to control her body. Back in her cheerleading days she strived to stay slim and athletic, and in amphibia she wanted to stay strong and tough. But after amphibia, she only exercises when she genuinely wants to, eats anything she wants, and ends up gaining a bit of weight (she’s insecure about it at first, but works through it in therapy and with her girlfriends)

Marcy dyes her hair fun colors often. It’s her way of regaining a sense of control over her body after possession.

Marcy struggles heavily with disassociation, specifically depersonalization after being possessed

They all have nightmares about amphibia for years.

Anne & Sasha are the first people Marcy shows her art to, and if she’s stuck with art/writers block, she talks through it with them. They give her suggestions, but usually she figures it out after talking through it

Sasha cannot handle any type of spicy foods, Anne is constantly trying to build her spice tolerance (it never works and Anne always pulls Sasha’s portion out before adding in spicy ingredients when she cooks for them)

Anne has pet frogs at home and gives them a life of luxury. She spends more on items to care for her frogs than she does on herself.

Sasha gets a dog and accidentally trains it to be a service dog for her chronic pain and PTSD

Sasha & Anne force Marcy to take breaks when she overworks herself on her comics.

[sometimesanalice]

I’m so curious about ‘Like I Can” and reader’s childhood/high school background!! Could we get some little flashbacks? Your work is amazing btw❣️❣️❣️

Ah! This was such a fun message to get! Sorry it took me a minute to respond, I wanted to make sure I had time to sit down and give it the attention it deserves!

What do you want to know? My inbox is always open, so please feel free to send thoughts or questions in any time they pop up! 🫶🏻

But here’s more about Sweet Girl for you! (i might have gone a little overboard, lol)

Sweet Girl was a bit of a shy girlie and a bit of a late bloomer in her younger years. It wasn’t until high school where she really started coming out of her shell.

She spent a lot of time at the Bradshaw house growing up and felt like it was hers too. Carole was the one who first gave her the “sweet girl” nickname and they had a really close relationship (sg still has the locket Carole gave her for her 13th birthday). And SG’s favorite nights were the ones where they’d get to have sleepovers. The moms would be upstairs having their own (wine, brownies, and romcoms), and her and Bradley would have free rein of the living room. (she famously isn't a fan of movie theater popcorn while Bradley is the extra butter kind of guy, but she does like the kettle corn kind.)

After her parent’s divorce, she had a complicated relationship with her dad. SG never saw it coming and then he moved very quick with a new wife and step siblings, and she felt really betrayed there for a while.

She had a few close friends in her grade, but Bradley was always who she considered her best friend. And because of that she did get picked on sometimes mainly by shitty boys who didn’t understand why they were so close or why he’d want to hang out with her (especially since they have a 2 year gap, so they’d call her his shadow or a tagalong). Bradley made it clear that anyone who messed with her wasn’t cool with him, but there were still some comments under breaths that she’d hear sometimes chose to keep to herself.

She’s always been artsy (she doodled some very detailed fireballs on the page of the sheet music book with Great Balls of Fire that she gave Bradley for his 12th birthday). But her favorite classes in high school were AP history (preferred euro over us) and computer science. (She originally wanted to be a graphic designer, and focused on pursuing her freshman year in college before later changing her major.)

Tennis was her sport of choice, and she was pretty decent at it. Her mom, Carole, and Bradley (baseball schedule depending) were always in the stands to cheer her on (the moms had to sit through so much spring sports, those opaque tumblers were definitely filled with wine, lol)! Both SG and Bradley had shirts they’d made as self professed #1 fan of the other when they were at each other’s games. The year she almost made it to the state playoffs was the year after Carole passed away, and after that happened and seeing her mom there alone in the stands without Carole or Bradley, she quit playing.

Miss ma’am is a smart cookie, and was one of three valedictorians in her class. (She did not audition to give the speech and let one of the others do it because she doesn't like a lot of attention directed at her.)

Her respect for the library (and why she won’t make out with Bradley in the stacks, even though he’s always trying to get her to after they get together, she won’t but she does let him carry her books, lol) is because she used to spend her summers volunteering there. Bradley would either drop SG off or pick her up depending on his baseball camp schedule and his job scooping ice cream. (Which Bradley has a struck ‘no milkshakes’ in the montero rule after she spilled hers one time, and he never let her forget about it)

I do have plans for a couple longer oneshots about their younger years! Including one about the night at the homecoming party where Bradley got his scars, and then also about the period after Carole died and Bradley's self destructive era (when he tried to implode their friendship).

As for some little flashbacks, I think that sounds like so much fun! I love their dynamic so much and have fun weaving in things from their past into the stories I write when I have the chance to do it! If there's specific things you're interested, send them my way! I'm happy to keep a little list and work on them when the time and inspiration hits!

[takecarelove]

visited my old children at high school and one of them started playing the fucking try again playlist hello can you be normal please

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

JoJo Siwa doesn’t deserve all the hate (and homophobia) she’s getting for her style and music; but she does deserve scrutiny for defending Colleen Ballinger and being both active and complicit in abuse that happened on her TV show. Like the girl has been under the public eye in unhealthy environments all her life; cut her some slack — not too much; she’s still a responsible adult — but if you’re going to dogpile her, then at least dogpile her for the right reasons. Jesus Fucking Christ.

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 29

“Evil Like Me” by Kristin Chenoweth & Dove Cameron for Disney's Descendants OS

[neverendingford]

.