#this dude is too talented for his own good

[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)

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[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

You get isekaid into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, a traitorous consort, and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.

Series Masterlist

You’re about three hours deep in line, squashed between a woman wearing an unsettling amount of dragon-themed jewelry and some dude intensely vaping in front of you. The line inches forward at the pace of continental drift, and you’re in no mood to be here.

You're here out of pure, misguided loyalty to your best friend, who’s practically shaking with excitement at the idea of meeting their favourite author—the world-renowned queen of girlboss fantasy.

In a valiant effort to distract yourself from your eternal boredom, you pull up her previous novels on your phone. Maybe, if you understood her work better, you’d understand why people would willingly spend this many hours standing on asphalt.

After skimming through some of her top titles, you can barely believe these are real book plots: Slaying the Patriarchy with My Stilettos? Lipstick and Blood Magic? Each one more ridiculous than the last, filled with protagonists who blast their enemies with a "feminine fury" and, honestly, you're just not buying it.

Why did I agree to this? you think, suppressing the urge to gnaw on your own hand out of boredom.

Suddenly, you spot a stray bird above—a pigeon, wobbling through the sky like it's had one too many lattes. You barely register the bird's existence until it lets out an alarming squawk and, in a tragic twist of fate, plummets from the heavens right towards your head.

In a perfect shot, it bonks you directly in the face, knocking you backward with an impressively dramatic flair. You spiral down, your vision blurring as you fall in slow motion, gasping.

In the last seconds of your consciousness, as chaos erupts around you, one solemn thought echoes through your mind: I hate pigeons.

And with that, you drift off into oblivion, serenaded by the panicked cries of your best friend and the distant wail of someone’s Lipstick and Blood Magic audiobook playing on full blast nearby.

You wake up, blink, and immediately realize that your bed is both way too luxurious and way too large. Rich, velvet curtains drape around you, shimmering with gold embroidery.

A chandelier overhead sparkles with enough jewels to fund at least three public libraries. The air smells like a mixture of incense, rose petals, and maybe faint hints of… burning tyranny?

Oh, dear God. You’ve been isekai’d.

Straight into that novel you were doom-scrolling through to survive the crushing boredom of line-waiting.

Your mind reels back to the summary you’d read. The heroine, a weepy maid with all the emotional range of wet toast. The consort, a charming traitor with “dreamy eyes” who betrays his own Empress for said toast. And then, of course, the villainess.

That poor, genius Empress who actually had talent and ambition, who could annihilate anyone with a flick of her wrist and yet was somehow destined to lose it all because of a love triangle involving a glorified housekeeper.

And now—you are that Empress. The Villainess Extraordinaire, Scourge of Kingdoms, War-Waging Prodigy, Mary Sue on Steroids… and now you're stuck in this tragic play of bad romance tropes.

You shoot upright in bed, taking it all in. Lavish room. Silk sheets. Jewels littered around like confetti. And then you notice a presence by your bedside. You whip your head to see… her. The heroine.

She's standing there, looking down at you with the wide-eyed wonder of someone who hasn’t yet discovered a single personality trait. Her face is soft, angelic, and you already know that beneath those doe eyes lies… absolutely nothing.

She's here to dress you, a task that apparently requires thirty minutes of excessive hair-braiding, enough layers to construct a mattress, and endless, mind-numbing conversation about the consort.

Oh, right. The consort. Your dear, disloyal boy toy who’ll soon be scheming against you. He’s probably off somewhere sharpening his cheekbones in a mirror, wondering if he can pull off “soulful yet traitorous” in the same expression.

The heroine starts tugging on your hair, a bit too enthusiastically for your taste. "Your Majesty," she coos, “Your consort was asking for you yesterday. He misses your attention."

You mentally scream. I'm running an empire, Susan! Who cares about his feelings right now? You're barely awake, freshly isekai'd, and trying to mentally tally your enemies, not exactly in the mood for his fragile ego.

And, technically, aren’t you the one in need of support here? Not the consort, who apparently needs a throne, a palace, and a shoulder to cry on every two hours.

"Oh," you manage to reply, voice dripping with an irritation that you pray she interprets as imperial grace. "Tell him… I’m thinking about military reforms."

The heroine’s eyes flicker in confusion. "Military reforms?"

"Yes. Reforms. Vital to the stability of our empire." You wave a hand, and she clearly has no idea what you're talking about. This maid was not hired for her intellectual curiosity, that’s for sure.

Then comes the worst part: her doe eyes start misting over. Great. You forgot. Crying is, apparently, her most crucial skill set. She clutches a sleeve to her chest, looking at you as if you’ve announced the arrival of a natural disaster. "Your Majesty… but what about your consort?"

You take a deep breath. Focus. How did this woman end up so crucial to the plot? What was it about her that was supposed to outshine an entire empire? It’s as if she’s constructed entirely from damp tissues and vague romantic inclinations. And this is the girl who’s going to take you down?

But you’re already devising a plan. You’ll keep tabs on her. Outwardly, you’ll play the role of the intimidating yet graceful Empress, while inwardly making sure that neither she nor the consort gets a single chance to stab you in the back. And as for the consort himself…

Well, when he finally arrives for his “audience,” you’ll be sure to give him the warmest, most menacing smile in your arsenal. For now, you’ll have to endure the heroine’s dramatic sniffles and the hundred layers of fabric she’s convinced you need.

As she fiddles with a particularly elaborate golden sash, you look at her with an eyebrow raised. “Tell me,” you say, feigning curiosity. “What would you do if the palace were to… burn down?”

Her face goes blank for a second. Then, she frowns and wrinkles her nose as if this question is somehow unsolvable. “Um… cry?”

Of course. Absolutely riveting. You sigh and try to look satisfied, which is hard when you’re mentally questioning how this woman has a heartbeat, let alone plot armor thick enough to take you down.

By the time she finishes with your dress, you've already come up with about sixteen ways to save the empire and seventy-two reasons why this love triangle is absolutely ridiculous.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re the picture of beauty and deadly grace, an unstoppable Empress who could wield the fate of kingdoms.

And they want to reduce you to a footnote in the saga of this girl’s whimpering romance?

Well, that’s not happening. You’ve read the novel; you know how this story ends. And now that you’re here, you’re rewriting that ridiculous fate.

You try to keep a dignified expression, but inside, you’re screaming.

The entire reason you’ve gathered the harem is to graciously cut them loose and rid yourself of the ongoing melodrama. Because if there are no consorts, there’s no backstabbing love triangle, no tearful betrayals, and no doomed political coups.

You can practically taste the freedom already—so you clear your throat and begin, putting on your most diplomatic voice:

"Esteemed consorts,” you say, hands clasped. “Thank you for your service and devotion. You are now free to leave and may claim land and titles if you wish to remain in the empire.”

You pause, waiting for cheers or at least some relieved sighs. Instead, dead silence. You glance around and spot the heroine sneaking glances at the traitor consort, eyes brimming with pure unadulterated… something.

She looks like she’s five seconds away from throwing herself across a fainting couch. The consort looks at her for a moment and then back at you, entirely unimpressed.

Maybe they’re just in shock, you think, trying to keep it together. Maybe they need a moment to process the incredible gift of freedom you’ve just given them.

But then, from the back of the room, someone clears their throat—Floyd Leech. He raises his hand, a gleeful glint in his eye that makes your stomach churn.

See, Floyd was not a character that should’ve belonged in this novel. The man was unhinged. Slightly terrifying, if you’re being honest. He treated warfare like a casual hobby and had a grin that said I could absolutely cause problems on purpose.

And the worst part? Floyd was actually one of the few who stuck around in the original plot. After the Empress dies on the battlefield, he takes her body back to his home country, out of sheer love.

He's also the only one who got to call the Empress Regnant herself "Shrimpy" and lived to tell the tale. You'd swoon over the romantic implications if you weren't that same Empress who had bigger problems right now.

You steel yourself. “Yes, Floyd?”

“Can I stay?” he says, looking entirely too happy. “These other guys are boring, but you’re kinda fun to watch.” He stares at you like you’re some sort of exotic animal in a zoo. “Besides,” he adds, throwing an arm over a very uncomfortable-looking consort, “who’s gonna protect you if I leave? These losers?”

God help you.

Before you can even answer, the traitor consort steps forward, expression so intense you can feel it from across the hall. He clears his throat dramatically. “My Empress,” he says, taking a deep, tragic breath. “My heart is bound to you, like—like the tides to the moon. Like—”

In the background, the heroine lets out an audible, swooning sigh. Oh, please, you think. You’ve seen better monologues in toothpaste commercials. The consort glances at the heroine, clearly confused, then goes back to gazing at you with what he probably thinks is soulful longing.

Meanwhile, Floyd is grinning at him, shark-like. “Nice speech, buddy,” he says, clapping the guy on the back hard enough that the consort nearly goes sprawling. “But I think she liked mine better.” He leans in to whisper, loudly, “Besides, I bet you don’t even know her favorite food.”

The consort’s face scrunches. “Do you?”

“Nope!” Floyd beams, looking at you as if expecting some kind of reward. “But I’m gonna figure it out.”

The consort looks like he wants to protest, but before he can, another one of the harem—Lord Something-or-Other—steps forward, visibly shaking with emotion. He kneels, clutching a hand to his heart as if he’s about to propose.

“My Empress,” he says, voice wobbling with way too much sincerity. “Without you, my life is a barren wasteland. I would rather endure the endless, scorching sands of—”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Floyd groans. “Do you guys hear yourselves?”

“Can you not mock me while I pour my heart out?” Lord Something-or-Other snaps back.

“Sure I can. I’m multi-talented,” Floyd replies with a grin that’s somehow both playful and threatening. He leans against the throne, looking completely at home while you fight the urge to dive out the nearest window.

Now everyone’s in a frenzy. Every last one of these men—your so-called “consorts”—are lining up to deliver heartfelt soliloquies, tragic metaphors, and similes so flowery they might as well be a bouquet. You can barely keep a straight face as the next one steps forward, proclaiming that he would “gladly suffer a thousand winters if only to see her smile.”

As if on cue, the heroine wipes a tear from her eye, sighing dreamily. The consort she’s apparently in love with looks at her again, this time with an expression somewhere between pity and terror. But she doesn’t seem to notice, too busy whispering to herself, “Oh, how romantic…”

And then Floyd leans down and whispers in your ear, voice gleeful. “Y’know, if you let ‘em keep going, they might just start fighting each other for you. Free entertainment. Whaddaya think?”

You feel a headache coming on. “Floyd, please, I’m begging you—”

“What?” he asks, grinning wider. “I thought this was fun. C’mon, Empress,” he drawls, giving the title an absurd little flourish. “Let me stay. I promise I won’t let any of these guys stage a rebellion.” He smirks at the traitor consort. “Unless you feel like rebelling, huh?”

The traitor consort scoffs, bristling. “Unlike some of us,” he says, glaring at Floyd, “my devotion is genuine.”

“And boring,” Floyd mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Fine, Floyd. You can stay,” you say, hoping that giving him what he wants will end this disaster. You’re immediately filled with regret as his grin widens.

“Awesome! And you know what? Since everyone’s so devoted, why don’t we all stay? Make it a real party.” Floyd tosses an arm around your shoulders, ignoring the death glares from half the room.

Now you’re stuck with fifteen poets, one unhinged eel, and a heroine who’s still making heart eyes at a man who clearly isn’t interested. And as you sit there, feeling your last shreds of sanity slip away, you think, This is going to be a very, very long reign.

You’re making your way through the moonlit palace corridors, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the… experience that spending the night with Floyd Leech is sure to be.

Mostly, you’ve chosen him because, unhinged or not, he’s at least the most loyal out of this whole ridiculous lineup. Plus, there’s a kind of chaotic charm about him, like a very large, very untrained puppy with fangs.

But before you can even make it to his side palace, you’re intercepted.

“My Empress…” It’s the traitor consort. You sigh as he blocks your path, looking like he’s about to burst into tears. He’s clutching his chest dramatically, as if he’s seconds from fainting, and his voice wobbles with pure tragedy.

“Do you not love me anymore?” he blubbers, eyes shining with tears. “Why do you never choose me? Have I done something wrong? Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve graced my chambers?” He’s practically sobbing at this point, clutching at your sleeves like some tragic hero in a soap opera.

You stand there, blinking. “Uh… dude. I… what? ”

He looks at you with the heartbreak of a thousand rom-coms. “I thought you cared about me. I thought I meant something to you…”

You’re trying to process what exactly is happening (and failing spectacularly) when you hear an all-too-familiar voice.

“Yoo-hoo~!” Floyd’s voice echoes down the hall as he appears at the other end, looking like he’s just won the lottery. He practically skips toward you, a grin stretched across his face, his shark-like teeth glinting in the moonlight.

“Shrimpy!” he calls out cheerfully, giving you an exaggerated wave. But his cheerful demeanor drops like a rock the moment he sees the traitor consort clinging to you, tears streaming down his face.

Floyd’s grin turns into a much darker smirk, and his eyes narrow dangerously. He tilts his head, sizing up the blubbering man like he’s something he might enjoy crunching on for a midnight snack.

“Oi,” Floyd says, stepping closer, voice dropping into a lower, much more menacing tone. “What’re you doin’, crybaby? Gettin’ all snotty in front of my Shrimpy? That doesn’t seem real respectful, y’know?”

The traitor consort pales instantly, his tear-streaked face going from tragic to terrified in half a second flat. “I—I was just…” he stammers, trying to find an escape route.

“You were just what?” Floyd grins, but there’s absolutely nothing friendly about it now. “You got somethin’ you wanna say to her? ‘Cause I could help you say it better, y’know.” He cracks his knuckles for emphasis, and you swear the traitor consort’s soul nearly leaves his body.

And you? You’re exhausted. Normally, you’re pretty sure the original Empress would step in, say something appropriately royal and dignified to diffuse the situation. But at this point? You’re too tired to deal with either of them, and honestly, watching Floyd scare this guy senseless is a little too satisfying. So you just sigh and cross your arms, waiting it out.

“Look, I— I didn’t mean anything by it,” the traitor consort mutters, eyes darting between Floyd’s unsettling grin and your unimpressed stare. “I’ll… I’ll just go…”

And before you know it, he’s stumbling off, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to escape Floyd’s glare. You can still hear his sniffles echoing down the hall as he disappears.

Floyd watches him go, then turns back to you with an exaggerated pout. “He didn’t even say bye. Rude, huh?” Then, just as quickly, his mood switches back, and he gives you a toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy! Let’s go. You’re finally here!”

And without another word, he loops an arm around you, practically dragging you the rest of the way to his palace. By the time you arrive, you’re half-expecting him to start a monologue or make a big romantic speech, but instead, he plops down on the massive, plush couch, pulling you down next to him with surprising gentleness.

“There we go! See? Ain’t this way better than dealin’ with crybabies?” He laughs, leaning back and throwing an arm over your shoulders.

You give him a look. “Do you actually scare all of them off on purpose?”

Floyd grins, showing all his teeth. “Only the boring ones.” He taps his temple like he’s sharing some brilliant secret. “Can’t have anyone else thinkin�� they’re more special than me, right?”

Honestly, you’re too tired to argue. So you just lean back, letting Floyd prattle on about his grand plans for “getting rid of the competition.” At least, you think to yourself, you’ve successfully survived another day of being Empress.

The banquet table stretches out in front of you, each seat filled by one of your fifteen consorts, who are locked in an elaborate battle of “who’s the cutest?” You watch, sipping your wine like it’s medicinal, as they coo, flirt, and — at least in one unfortunate case — attempt a juggling act.

A consort on your left even starts singing a heartfelt ballad he very obviously wrote himself. You silently make a note to ask Heroine if it’s possible to declare some sort of moratorium on public serenades.

Just when you think the evening can’t get any more surreal, the doors burst open. Floyd strides in, late as usual, with all the grace and subtlety of a pirate commandeering the dinner table.

Without breaking stride, he makes a beeline for the coveted King Consort chair, ignoring the man who’s been trying to occupy it and who now looks as if he’s about to faint.

Floyd’s “gentle” suggestion to move aside comes in the form of a rather forceful nudge, and the poor consort goes skidding two seats down, clutching his untouched plate of tiny hors d’oeuvres.

Floyd plops into the seat, throws his legs up on the table, and proceeds to grab a handful of grapes like he’s claiming territory.

Instantly, fifteen men start having what can only be described as a collective meltdown. One consort gapes at Floyd, cheeks puffing like an indignant chipmunk; another begins audibly hyperventilating. Somewhere on the far end of the table, a man has already shed a single, dramatic tear.

Your maid Heroine sidles up to you, wide-eyed. She whispers loudly, as if she’s sharing a forbidden secret, “Your Majesty! You’ve broken their hearts!”

You stare at her, bewildered. “How? By letting Floyd sit down?”

Heroine nods, lip quivering. “They think you’ve… chosen! That’s the King Consort’s seat!”

“What? ” You glance at Floyd, who’s now lying back, casually chomping on a drumstick he must have acquired from who-knows-where. He doesn’t seem perturbed in the least.

“Yes!” Heroine sniffles, pulling out a lacy handkerchief. “It’s the sacred chair of royal favoritism!” She dabs at her eyes, gazing at you with something akin to heartbreak. “And here I thought you were a romantic.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” You rub your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “I just wanted a quiet dinner!”

One of the consorts, evidently hearing this, begins to wail, “But why, Your Majesty? We loved you!” It’s clear he’s already going to be composing several tragic stanzas about this moment.

Then Floyd — who’s been watching this entire scene with the amused look of someone who’s just discovered he’s won the jackpot — clears his throat, aiming a rather shark-like grin at Heroine. “Hey, little miss servant girl,” he says, his voice sugary sweet with a terrifying edge. “Maybe stop making Shrimpy feel guilty, hmm? Unless you want to join ‘em in the Royal Seat Shuffle?”

Heroine squeaks, as if he’s just offered to turn her into a garden gnome, and stammers an apology, hands fluttering as she edges away.

In the silence that follows, you decide enough is enough. “Thank you all for coming,” you announce, giving your consorts a forced smile. “This has been… lovely. But we’re done for tonight.”

The consorts hesitate, as if they want to protest. But when Floyd gives them one of his very special grins — the kind that says he just might take a whole different seat next — they practically stampede out of the dining hall, leaving behind a trail of emotional debris: teardrops, wilted roses, and a half-eaten plate of pastries.

As the door closes, Floyd leans back with a smirk, throwing an arm casually over the back of his new favorite chair. “So, looks like Shrimpy’s all mine tonight.”

You chuckle, half-exasperated, half-relieved. “Well, seems you chased everyone else off.”

“Don’t be like that,” he purrs, clearly pleased. “You know, you’re different now. Last time, you’d have been practically begging those guys to come back.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Maybe I’m just too tired to care anymore.”

He leans in, gaze softening. “Nah. You’ve just gotten tougher. And it looks good on you. The new Shrimpy’s got a spine.”

You smile, almost despite yourself, as Floyd raises his glass, winking. “To the new Shrimpy: long may she rule.”

The annual Talent Showcase Extravaganza for the Empress’s Affections has begun, and your consorts are pouring every ounce of drama and flair they possess into their performances, each desperate to secure that exclusive week at the countryside villa with you.

Unfortunately, it seems that the traitor consort — Mr. ‘I-know-the-theme-because-Heroine-can’t-resist-my-cheekbones’ — is dominating the competition. He’s wowing the audience with a perfectly themed tapestry, and you can already hear the maid giggling over in his cheering section.

This calls for drastic action.

You glance over to where Floyd is occupying himself by tormenting a pair of unfortunate ministers with tales of his more “creative” fishing techniques. With a sigh, you snap your fingers. He looks over, feigning annoyance at being interrupted in what he surely sees as “Minister Horror Story Hour.”

“Shrimpy, what gives? This is the first fun I’ve had since I got here,” he says, hands on his hips.

You clear your throat. “Actually, Floyd, I need you to… win this competition.”

He raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “What, by doing some fancy painting or something? Boring. If you want something painted, Shrimpy, I’ll fish out an octopus to do it for me.”

You take a deep breath. “If you do this, I’ll grant you any wish you want. Plus… an extra reward.”

Floyd pauses, smirking as he steps closer, his voice dropping into an exaggerated whisper. “Any wish, huh? Dangerous promise, Shrimpy.”

You raise an eyebrow, undeterred. “You in or not?”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he sighs. “Fine. But I’m not painting. I’ve got something much better planned. Just try not to faint in awe, yeah?”

When Floyd finally unveils his “masterpiece,” the room falls silent. Somehow, he’s cobbled together a mosaic made entirely out of shiny rocks he probably pilfered from the palace’s prize garden.

The piece is of you, looking bold and triumphant, wielding what can only be described as a “battle spoon” against some sea monster (you’re guessing it’s supposed to be a shark, but it might just be a rock that looked vaguely fish-like).

“Ta-da!” Floyd announces, throwing his arms out. “The Empress: Rock ‘n’ Roll Edition. I call it, ‘Shrimpy, Queen of the Waves.’”

Despite yourself, you’re mildly… no, very swoony. Somehow, it’s both absurd and… kind of amazing. Floyd’s grin is pure mischief as he winks at you. “Like it, Shrimpy? Don’t worry, I can make one for the garden too.”

But your moment is interrupted by a loud sniffle from across the room. The traitor consort, clearly irate at being outshone, is tearing up, looking at you with big, watery eyes as if you’re the villain in this scenario. Heroine looks one step away from bolting to his side, but he raises a hand, his voice trembling as he murmurs, “No, I only want the Empress to comfort me.”

You shoot a silent plea to the universe, practically chanting, “Please, mercy, mercy…”

Floyd, never one to ignore an opportunity, steps up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Sorry, bud. Shrimpy’s already spoken for tonight. You’ll have to get in line. Oh, and try not to tear up over her rock portrait, yeah? Not all of us can handle the majesty.”

The crowd erupts in applause, one point to you and Floyd — and you’re pretty sure Heroine’s sulking in the corner, still staring longingly at the sobbing traitor consort, but that’s a future problem. For now, you’ve got a mildly unhinged art piece to hang up and a certain mischievous consort to thank.

It’s another late night in the study when you notice the Heroine, your ever-loyal (if not a little clueless) maid, lingering by the doorway, watching you with an odd expression. At first, you chalk it up to her usual eccentricities. But as the minutes tick by, she doesn’t move, just stands there with a faraway look in her eyes. Finally, you set down your work and gesture for her to come in.

“Hey,” you say gently, “what’s on your mind?”

She hesitates, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “It’s nothing, really…” Then, in a small voice, “It’s just… I never got to study like this.”

Your brow furrows, and as she opens up, the full picture starts to form. The Heroine, despite her noble blood, was barred by her father from studying—her dreams of an education crushed under his outdated beliefs.

She clung to the traitor consort, she confesses, because he seemed like an escape, even if a flimsy one. He was a nobleman with some level of authority, and for her, he felt like the only ticket to a different life.

Understanding sinks in. It’s not love she feels for him at all. It’s desperation, something almost like a distorted version of Stockholm syndrome.

She’s convinced herself he’s her only way out, though it’s clear as day that he doesn’t deserve her loyalty. The man’s barely got two brain cells, but he’s got freedom—and for her, he must have looked like her only way out.

The realization hits you hard, like finding out your favorite dessert is made with broccoli. No wonder she’s been swooning over that guy. She’s not “in love”—she’s just starved for any path out of her cage. Your heart softens, and you give her a gentle, if slightly exasperated, smile.

“Well, that won’t do,” you say firmly. “How about this? I’ll teach you myself. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll get you the education you deserve.”

Her face goes through a series of hilarious expressions, from shock to joy to the kind of wide-eyed, wobbly-lipped excitement normally reserved for puppies seeing their owner after a long day. And so, your lessons begin.

Over the next few weeks, you teach the Heroine to read, and she devours each lesson like a kid in a candy store. She’s throwing herself into her education with such energy, it’s like she’s forgotten the traitor consort entirely.

And you’re thrilled—partly for her growth and partly because it means your coup odds have just dropped by a solid 90%.

Soon, Heroine’s loyalty to you is ironclad, her former starry-eyed infatuation with the traitor consort completely extinguished. You’re so relieved you could dance, and, maybe more importantly, you realize that the kingdom’s other daughters deserve the same chance.

In a flash of imperial inspiration, you draft a new law requiring all daughters, noble or otherwise, to attend the academy. The state will foot the bill, so no one has an excuse to hold their daughters back.

Later that night, feeling unexpectedly sentimental, you return to your room to find Floyd sprawled on your bed, grinning like he’s just heard the world’s juiciest gossip.

“You look smug,” you say, arching an eyebrow.

“Nah, just… pleased,” he drawls, giving you that signature mischievous smirk. And before you know it, he pulls you into a surprisingly tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with unexpected warmth. “Look at my Shrimpy, changing the world one law at a time.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks despite yourself. “Oh, stop it,” you mutter, though you don’t pull away.

He chuckles, giving you an affectionate squeeze. “Nah. You’re doing great, Empress. I’m proud of you.”

You’re speechless. Floyd? Sentimental? But as he holds you, laughing at your stunned expression, you can’t help but feel a little…smitten.

You’re reviewing reports in the study, savoring the rare, blissful calm, when the double doors burst open like some villain from a badly written romance novel. There stands the traitor consort, dressed in what looks like…a suit made of loose, strategically placed peacock feathers, a sequined sash, and—oh, yes—face glitter.

He strikes a pose, does a dramatic hand flip, and announces, “Behold! My love for you is eternal, as boundless as the stars, and as bold as my outfit!”

You're thinking about ordering Floyd to chase him out with a chair, when you catch Heroine’s expression—somewhere between horror and volcanic rage.

With a fierce gleam in her eye, she steps in front of you, looking like she’s about to deliver an exorcism. “You…” she begins, her voice so cold even the peacock feathers on his shoulders look like they might molt in fear. “You miserable, egotistical, fashion-disaster-in-waiting!”

He’s stunned, blinking like a child caught sneaking candy. “W-what? Heroine, you used to help me with my plans!”

“Yeah, well, that was before I got a brain cell,” she snaps. “I actually know my worth now, and it’s definitely not tied to whatever fever-dream cape situation you’ve got going on.” She points to his glittering sash. “What, did you rob an arts-and-crafts store on the way here? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

He stammers, visibly shrinking, feathers quivering with fear. “Y-you were always there for me…”

“That was when I was too naive to realize you were the human equivalent of a trash fire!” She’s in full swing now, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, spitting out insults that would make the court jester blush. “Please, the Empress has standards, and you’re down there with questionable cabbage soup.”

He reels back, totally caught off-guard. By this point, you’re honestly not sure if you should applaud or slowly back away.

With a smirk, you lean forward and say, “Well, since you’re dressed for the occasion, why don’t you strut that ridiculous ensemble back to your own country?”

He opens his mouth, gapes like a fish, and finally closes it, completely defeated. Without another word, he shuffles out, feathers dragging behind him in a sad little pile.

The second he’s out of earshot, you sigh, look up, and thank the universe for finally sparing you from that headache. The Heroine just dusts her hands off, grinning like she’s just won the greatest battle of her life, and you’re suddenly very aware of just how terrifyingly competent she’s become.

Floyd has been hounding you about his reward for days now, showing up at all hours with the persistence of a cat at dinner time. You’re mid-sentence in a policy meeting, mid-sip at dinner, even mid-bath when you hear him shout from outside the door, “Hey, Shrimpy! Remember my prize? Don’t forget now!”

Finally, in a moment of resignation, you sigh and wave him in. “Fine, Floyd. What do you actually want?”

He grins, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that should probably have you worried. “Make me king consort.”

You open your mouth, ready to laugh and then say something like, “No chance,” but then…you pause. Because—why not? He’s loyal, he’s your particular brand of chaos, and honestly, the idea of using it as an excuse to disband the harem is almost too good.

You’d get to tell everyone you’d found the “love of your life” and keep your mornings free of peacock-feathered declarations of eternal devotion.

“Alright, Floyd,” you say, shrugging as if you just agreed to a dinner plan and not a royal title. “You’re king consort.”

For a solid five seconds, he’s frozen, blinking like he’s not sure if you just announced the best prank of the century or an actual royal decision.

Then, with a roar of laughter, he picks you up, actually tossing you in the air like a sack of grain. “SHRIMPY, I’M KING CONSORT! WOOOO!”

Ministers nearby practically leap out of their chairs in terror, and one drops his teacup with a spectacular crash.

“Oh, and by the way,” he says, setting you down but keeping a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t think I forgot—I still get that week alone with you in the countryside. Just you, me, and the great outdoors.”

You’d expected to feel dread, but instead…you’re kind of excited? Because it turns out, when there’s no glittered consort in sight, Floyd’s brand of mayhem might just be exactly what you needed.

You’re slumped on the throne, staring into the void as a minister drones on about the scandalous rise in scarf-wearing among the commoners.

The man is red-faced and foaming at the mouth as if he’s narrating the downfall of civilization itself instead of just… knitted accessories. With each drawn-out sentence, your urge to grab his own scarf and dramatically tie it around his face grows stronger.

“And, Your Majesty, don’t you agree that such… frivolousness undermines the dignity of the empire?” he sputters.

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, one mental toe dangling into the sweet abyss of existential crisis. How did your life get to this point? Did the previous Empress really deal with scarf politics? You contemplate just passing the crown to the nearest potted plant. Surely it couldn’t do worse.

Then, like a savior bathed in sunlight, Floyd appears. He slinks in casually, eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of glee and malice. He takes one look at Wedgeworth’s scarf-induced fervor and rolls his eyes. “Oh, I see the scarf issue is really eating away at the Empire,” Floyd deadpans, clearly unamused at the absurdity.

The minister stammers, blinking like he’s never been interrupted in his life. “Well, actually, I was explaining to Her Majesty—”

Floyd raises a hand. “I’ll take it from here, Lord Scarfington. Very urgent royal matters, wouldn’t want to keep the Empress from them, now would we, hmm?”

The ministers exchange horrified looks, but when Floyd locks eyes with them, his expression darkens into a gaze that could probably scare the teeth off a shark. Ministers shuffle out, muttering about “the sanctity of scarves” and how they “never liked those shellfish folk anyway.”

When you’re finally alone, you look at Floyd, and he gives you a grin. “Come on, Shrimpy, I’ve got a surprise.”

He leads you through a series of narrow, winding hallways you didn’t even know existed until you arrive at a small, hidden courtyard surrounded by high walls and shaded by some flowering trees.

In the middle of it is a picnic spread that looks… questionable. There’s food you don’t recognize: odd, glistening items that could pass as snacks in a very brave galaxy.

“I brought some delicacies from the Coral Sea,” Floyd announces, looking way too proud. “I even cooked some of this myself.”

You smile, hoping he means the less suspicious dishes, but as you take a bite of one of the “unique” items, you immediately realize your error. It’s a taste explosion, and not in a good way; you’re fairly certain you just ate something alive. Floyd’s already laughing, watching you try to hold back a gag.

“Oh, that’s rich, look at your face!” He claps his hands, doubled over with laughter.

But then you try the food he actually cooked, and it’s… it’s really good. Your eyes widen. “Floyd, you didn’t tell me you could cook!”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Guess you just have that effect on me, Shrimpy.”

As you eat, you feel the weight of scarf debates and mundane ministerial crises slip away. Floyd’s teasing you about your reaction to the Coral Sea snacks, you’re pretending to smack him, and somewhere between the laughter and the food, you realize you’re completely relaxed. You’re even… happy.

Then he casually picks up a pillow, eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, Shrimpy,” he says slowly, “bet I can take you down.”

“Bring it, fish-boy,” you fire back, grabbing a pillow.

A feather flies. Then another. In no time, the two of you are engaged in a full-on pillow war, feathers floating through the air in chaotic puffs. You swing a pillow with all your might, narrowly missing Floyd, who dodges and counters with a playful shove, sending you sprawling onto the blanket, laughing so hard you’re almost crying.

In the flurry of feathers and laughter, you realize just how much you care about him. And as if reading your mind, Floyd suddenly stops, pinning you down, his face hovering just inches above yours. His usual playful grin fades into something softer, more serious, and you find yourself staring up at him, completely captivated.

You kiss him, right there, surrounded by scattered feathers and half-eaten snacks. “I think I’m in love with you, Floyd,” you whisper.

He grins, looking almost smug. “Knew you’d come around eventually, Shrimpy. You’re a smart one.”

You roll your eyes, laughing, and pull him into another kiss, feeling lighter than you have in ages. Whatever royal nonsense tomorrow brings, you know you’ve got him—and for now, that’s more than enough.

Vacation plans with Floyd start out so simple in theory, but the minute he said, “Countryside? Nah, Shrimpy, we’re going under the sea,” you just nodded because, hey, you did promise a reward. Plus, how bad could it be?

Bad, it turns out, is relative. Upon arrival, Jade, Floyd’s brother, gives you a grin that says welcome, poor soul. “So, my brother’s finally gone and gotten himself an Empress. How unexpected,” he says with a glint in his eye that suggests he’s got a bet running on how long you’ll last.

But you’ve barely survived Jade’s interrogation when Azul, Coral Sea’s resident business octopus, swims up with an entire briefcase of contracts and a grin that spells danger.

“Welcome, Your Majesty! I thought we might discuss a mutually beneficial agreement,” he says smoothly, his tone so charming you almost miss that the contract slides in a 50-year lease on your kingdom’s fishing industry.

“So that’s how it is here,” you think, snapping back to business mode. You haggle until both sides are happy, but the second you reach across to shake Azul’s hand, Floyd swoops in, sighing dramatically. He grabs your hand, practically prying it out of Azul’s. “Alright, Shrimpy, enough time with the fish dealer. You’re mine this week.”

Before you can blink, he’s thrown you over his shoulder like you’re a stray potato sack, striding away from an open-mouthed Azul and an utterly delighted Jade who looks like he's a minute away from bursting out popcorn.

By the time he hauls you to your guest room and plops you on the bed, his usual grin has given way to an expression you’ve only seen on annoyed cats. He’s holding your hand in a grip that could rival steel, not letting go even as he sulks like a kid who just lost his favorite toy.

“Floyd,” you say slowly, “is something wrong?”

He looks away, puffing out his cheeks, refusing to answer. It's downright adorable in an overgrown, slightly unhinged eel sort of way. You squint at him, reaching over to grab his face, smushing his cheeks together until he finally makes eye contact. “Hey, I can’t read your mind, Floyd. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He mutters something too low to hear, and you lean closer, arching a brow. “What was that?”

“You’re my Shrimpy,” he grumbles louder, still not meeting your eyes. “And the handshake with that fish scammer went on too long.”

It takes every ounce of self-control not to burst into laughter. “So that’s it, huh?” A laugh slips out despite your efforts, and his pout deepens, though his grip on your hand stays as firm as ever. “You silly eel,” you chuckle, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “As if anyone could match me like you do?”

That does it. His expression softens, the pout melting into that slightly unhinged, overly excited Floyd smile you know too well. “See, Shrimpy, that’s why you’re the only one for me!” he practically shouts before pulling you into a spin that has you clinging to him for dear life.

He kisses you again, and you’re so breathless you half-expect a storm outside to rise to match.

But it doesn’t matter—he’s too busy swearing up and down that he’s not letting anyone else get a “single fin” on you. And somehow, as you laugh together, it feels like you really are on a vacation you never knew you needed.

The ceremony for crowning Floyd as your King Consort goes all-out, much to your delight—and, judging by the expressions around the room, their absolute horror. The whole throne room is so packed with flowers and banners it might as well be a festival.

You’ve made sure that this is a spectacle the diplomats and ministers will never forget. After all, the more smitten you look with Floyd, the less they’ll try to “reason” you out of it. And if they have any opinions about your choice, well, they can keep it to themselves—or they can talk to Floyd.

As you lean in to place the crown on Floyd’s head, he’s giving you a smirk so bright you swear it’s practically a stage light. The second the crown touches his head, he dips you into a kiss that is equal parts “fairytale ending” and “scandalized gasp from the old guard.” The ministers are barely holding in a collective gasp. Someone clutches their chest like they might need medical attention.

Over on the sidelines, you can see Jade and Azul clapping way too enthusiastically for the room’s mood. Meanwhile, everyone else looks like they’re watching you deface a holy artifact. You pull back with a satisfied smile, fully aware of the whispers swirling through the room.

Now, to seal this newfound reign in your own… unique way.

You turn to the front rows where your now-ex-harem stands, looking various shades of awkward and confused. These “prizes” will be going back to their respective nations, and it’s about time. “Ambassadors,” you announce, your tone absolutely oozing sincerity, “I believe you’ll be taking back your… prizes. Enjoy.”

The diplomats exchange looks, clearly unsure if they should feel insulted or relieved. You give them a regal wave and watch as they shuffle out with the ex-consorts in tow, one of whom lets out a dramatic sigh loud enough to reach the rafters.

Just as the room finally starts calming down, you glance over at the row of your ministers—many of whom look like they’d rather have run off with the consorts.

These are the ancient relics of nepotism who have only ever accomplished growing their own egos and possibly a few money-siphoning schemes. You decide now’s the time to deal with them, too.

Smiling so politely it almost looks sweet, you say, “Ministers, thank you for your service. But I’m sure you’ll understand when I say…” You pause, voice dropping to an icy sweetness, “You’re dismissed. Please kindly fuck right off.”

Several of the men freeze, as if unsure they heard you correctly. One or two start spluttering, “But—Your Majesty—this is—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Floyd cuts in, grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You’re free to go! You wouldn’t want to disappoint the Empress, would ya?”

It takes a second, but the room clears of protesting ministers soon enough. Then you turn to the waiting group of young scholars, women who fought their way up to the top on pure merit, many of them owing their presence here to your recently passed education reforms. “Welcome,” you say with a genuine smile. "Your interviews will be conducted tomorrow"

Their reactions are priceless. Several tear up on the spot, whispering thank-yous so heartfelt you nearly tear up yourself. One of them murmurs, “This is a dream come true. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

You feel a swell of pride. This is what you’ve wanted to see—a competent court, fresh talent, and the chance to make a real difference. Just as you’re soaking in the satisfaction of this triumph, Floyd leans over, clearly up to something.

“You’re done now, yeah?” he asks with a conspiratorial grin.

“Uh, yes?” You've barely said the words, only for him to suddenly scoop you up and throw you over his shoulder, entirely ignoring the royal dignity of it all. The young scholars stare, completely unsure of whether to salute or run.

“Floyd!” you half-laugh, half-scold. “You could at least let me walk out on my own!”

“Nah,” he says, casually strolling down the hall with you like you’re a sack of potatoes. “You’re mine now, Shrimpy. And besides, it’s tradition for the King Consort to carry his Empress, isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” you mutter, but you wave cheerfully at everyone as you’re carried off.

As he strides out of the throne room, ignoring the horrified gasps and protests behind you both, Floyd grins. “Any more old men to fire? ‘Cause I’m having a great time.”

You shake your head, smiling. After all, you’re the Empress—who’s going to stop you now?

Your empire has transformed. The old guard, once weighed down by nothing but scarves and scandals, has finally given way to a bright-eyed group of scholars and ministers, most of whom—much to the old ministers' horror—are brilliant young women now leading the realm.

Among them is your ex-maid, the heroine herself, newly appointed as Minister of Diplomatic Affairs and already so intimidatingly competent that foreign diplomats quake just a bit when she enters the room.

And the grandest twist of all: you declare that your successor will not be by blood but by merit. The heir to the throne will be the sharpest, most capable mind in the empire, regardless of their birth.

You’re already giddy as you imagine the ambitious parents prepping their offspring for the grueling tests you’re planning—challenges you’ll design alongside your newly assembled council.

After hours of being regal and respectable, you finally get back to your chambers, ready for a night of blissfully ignoring politics. Floyd, your beloved eel, is already sprawled on the couch like he’s conquered half the known world, arms open and ready to receive you. You practically collapse into his embrace, sighing as you burrow against him.

“So, Shrimpy,” he drawls, smirking. “Fix the whole empire yet?”

“Almost,” you laugh. “At least I’ve retired the Scarf Parliament. That’s enough for today.”

You snuggle closer, closing your eyes, and for a second, you think back to the ridiculous, drama-filled story that threw you into this life. Maybe the original author had a point, or maybe she just really liked throwing you curveballs.

Either way, cuddled up with the love of your life while your empire flourishes, you can’t help but think, yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2. part 2

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

PT-1 w/Charles, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, George, Lewis, Lance & Fernando

Max

You had just gotten off the phone with your mother, so obviously tears were stinging your eyes and the urge to punch a wall was getting stronger by the minute. Unfortunately, you weren't the only one dealing with less-than-loving parents.

"But that's not fair, no one's perfect, I've won five out of eight races," He yelled into the phone to a louder voice responding from the other end. Max looked defeated, with red under his eyes and hair sticking up where he dragged his hands through it.

"No, I didn't fucking let them win, it's their job too," he stood right by the door, slamming it behind him, "Whatever, bye," he cut the call, standing still for a few seconds, glaring at his phone, knowing him debating between throwing it at a wall or stomping on it.

"Wanna nap?" You asked him, setting your phone on the coffee table and letting yourself fall face first on to the hotel bed. Max followed suit, one arm over your waist.

“Damn, can you imagine if we swapped places as kids?” You thought out loud as sleep neared making Max scoff.

He turned to you and in a dead serious tone replied, “Y/n/n, you’d be a serial killer and I’d probably be in jail, now let me sleep, you’re warm,” The man’s response was screech worthy, making you want to smack him but for once, he was right, you were very warm and cuddly and so was he, a fight could wait, sleep was now.

Logan

“LOGAN!” You screamed, knocking on his hotel room door, hoping the man would hurry to answer.

You couldn’t believe the man had launched an entire app without even giving you a hint! You were so proud of him and you couldn’t wait to celebrate. You waited to see his smiling face, knowing you were going to shower him with praises and way too many hugs but when he opened the door, his demeanour was nothing like you had expected.

“Dude didn’t you just launch an app? Why the no good sad face?” You asked as you walked in past him.

He sighed as he sat on his bed, working away at his laptop and a hundred pages spread out. You couldn’t help but frown.

“Logan, Logan,” you called out, ultimately pulling the boys head to face yours, “what the fuck mate, you should be happy right now, what’s wrong?” You asked, disturbed that your happy go lucky, it is what it is friend was so sullen.

“The cars fucked, I have no future, my team fucking hates me, my best and only friend literally never talks to me and I feel like a fucking failure,” he went of on you, slamming his laptop shut making you flinch.

You stared unimpressed at his little charade to keep you away, unfortunately you had grown up with the man and knew his tantrums and breakdowns, “First of all, your only friend? What am I chopped liver? Secondly, James Vowles can fuck off for all I care, you deserve so much better then that ratchet ass team, thirdly you just launch your own app, need I go on?” You presented embodying your inner George Russell as you picked Logan’s laptop and papers off his bed.

“But still-” his face was still down and he continued to doubt himself.

“Look,” you say next to him, holding his hand in yours, “it’s been a tough few years, not gonna lie, but you’re going to pull through cause you are one of the most talented people I know,” you squeezed his hand, “also you can’t give up because you promised you’d get rich and pay for everything.” You shrugged and pulled him to lay on the bed.

He huffed, smacking a pillow on your face, “so that’s why you’re friends with me? Not my dazzling personality? How could you? This is a betrayal, I’m betrayed,” he joked, finally getting back to his normal self, but you were still worried about him.

You turned to the man enveloping him in your arms, the man immediately returning the favour immediately. You let yourself fall into a comfortable sleep, telling yourself to do this more often.

Daniel

“Hey, are you busy?” Daniel had said softly as he entered your room immediately raising red flags in your mind, never once hand the man been so quiet. You quickly put away your stuff on the night stand patting the spot on the bed next to you to let him sit.

“Yeah, is everything okay? You look tired, Danny,” you asked to nothing but silence from the man. A few seconds passed and you could see how wet his eyes were.

“Dan-”

“I’m so tired y/n/n,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, scaring you, what did he mean by that? “I’m just, I can’t, I’m doing everything I can and it isn’t enough, I- I,” he tried speaking but he couldn’t without choking.

You tired not to cry with him, the only man you’d always known to be laughing and happy even in the worst of circumstances, keeping everyone’s spirits up was sitting here in front of you, so hopeless.

You didn’t think twice before pulling him in a hug, cradling him as you both sank into a laying position. “You’re tired, mate, let’s take a nap, it’ll be okay Danny, I promise, it’s going to be fine,” you whispered into his hair making him nod.

You felt him drift off as the tears slowed down and you couldn’t help passing out in the warmth either knowing when you wake up you’d find a way to make the man himself again.

Yuki

“Can I please marry you?” You begged for what seemed the tenth time that day much to Yuki’s irritation.

“I am never cooking for you ever again,” he complained falling onto the sofa next to you, watching the sitcom tv rather than paying attention to you.

“Please, you know you loved the tiramisu I made,” you boasted, opening up a button on your shirt to allow you to breath. The amount of food you and Yuki had consumed for individuals of your sizes were seriously guiness worthy.

He whined knowing you had won that argument, “fine but I want the recipe as a wedding gift,” he joked making the both of you laugh.

“Dude I’m ready to go into a food coma for the next ten fucking years,” you confessed, making the man nod in agreement.

“I’ve eaten enough for the next damn week.”

“We should nap,” you spoke out loud, turning to the man next to you, “wanna nap?”

“Yup,” he immediately answered to which you both pounced on either ends of the sofa, shifting into comfortable positions, making sure neither was kicking the other, his legs on the coffee table pulled close to the sofa and yours curled up closed to you.

Pierre

“Fuck me,” you groaned as another one of your projects fell through. You threw your phone on the table in front of you, sighing as you did.

“Do mind if I do,” joked an irritating grating voice from behind you, from your bed, you had honestly forgotten your friend had been there after another pissy fight with his sweetheart teammate.

“Keep talking Gasly, I’ll call Ocon over make it a threesome,” you laughed as you joined him, pushing him to one side to make space.

The man looked honestly disgusted, “I can’t believe you’d stoop low enough to even joke about that, standards babe, standards,” he scoffed looking at you judgementally to which you rolled your eyes.

“Damn I guess we won’t be making love, sad, I was actually going to agree for once, I’ll just ask Estie then” you fake sighed, feigning disappointment, much to the other man’s horror.

“Shut up, Y/n,” he knocked your shoulder with his after he saw your grin, fighting a yawn as you pushed him back.

“Do you wanna nap?” You asked, equally tired and dejected about your failed project, he nodded and pulled the both of you into a more comfortable position, turning in to face you, burying his face in your neck and you let your hand play with his silky blonde locks, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Esteban

“BITCH, YOU WILL NOT BELIVE THE SHIT I’VE JUST SEEN-” you yelled as you ran into Esteban’s driver room, seeing him lying on the makeshift bed.

You immediately jumped in next to him, waking him up in a startle, “MERDE! Y/n?” He yelled in fear and then confusion, looking around as if a swat team had burst in, “what is wrong with you?” He screeched as he pulled his hands over his face in exhaustion, “you’re a worse gossip than Pierre,” he grunted lying back down.

You animatedly threw yourself down next to him, using his arm as a pillow. “I abhor that accusation, actually,” you grumbled but gave in nonetheless, “okay so look at this photo and tell me what you see,” you showed his your phone, a photo you’d gotten out of a greedy paparazzi’s hand as a media control agent in Mercedes.

The man next to you suddenly seemed much more awake, “Is that Nico fucking Rosberg?” He whisper- yelled into your ears, snatching the phone out your hands.

“Yup,” you grinned popping the p, “bought that shit for eleven thousand dollars,” he whistled, “that was taken at 4 am at Lewis’s hotel,” you whispered, turning your body to face his.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “I thought these were rumours?” He asked gleefully.

“Nope, this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to do damage control,” you sighed, trying to get your phone back but it was pulled away by the taller man.

“You mean there’s gossip you haven’t told me? Your best friend, whose room you’re currently hiding in? Interrupting my nap time?”

“You, Estie, are such a drama queen,” you teased him, pulling your phone out of his hand. “And we can definitely nap, I spent all night trying to convince that asshole to drop the story,” you kept you phone in your pocket as Esteban made himself comfortable, both of you letting yourselves rest after the tiring day you had.

Zhou

“How are you not broke?” The man yelled in astonishment as he saw at the amount of bags in the Prada assistants hands, choosing to ignore his own in another’s, he was allowed to spend he technically was a millionaire, even without his family and sponsors.

You looked at him with raised brows as you opened the doors your apartment building, you and Zhou both owning the penthouses, yours above his.

You let the men drop the bags off on your floor, keeping Zhou waiting, making him annoyed to your amusement. When the men finally left you simply answered, “Samsung shares.”

Zhou groaned “Spoilt child,” and headed into the guest suite as you headed into your room, “look whose talking I have my own assistant at the mall,” you called out behind you. That had been funny, the man followed Zhou to every shop, holding the bags you both collected till you needed another.

You both walked out and showed each other the clothes and accessories you had bought, occasionally swapping one or two. As the day progressed into late evening you called for food, tired from the little fashion show you had.

“I need a nap,” you groaned, folding your feet as you sat on the dinning table chair.

“My legs are killing me,” Zhou agreed, not only had he had a terrible work out in the morning but you both had covered way more than 10,000 steps in that mall.

“Want to nap?” You offered, knowing very well he could just go a floor below to his own home.

“Sure, turn on screen mirroring on your tv, I’ll show you the drivers chat,” he said heading into your room and you ran behind him with glee.

The gossip was the best part of being friends with Zhou, that and the really warm cuddles he gave, “oh my god, Charles and Max again?” You laughed and leaned on his shoulders as he relayed all the details to you, his voice slowly softening as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[saerotonins]

actor!satoru headcanons

ft. gojo satoru x reader

content warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive, implied gojo satoru x reader

wc: 573

jjk actor au masterlist

as an actor:

when he became a rising actor, many people found out that his parents' names were also big in the acting industry 

people immediately assumed that he's just a nepo baby with no talent and only got to where he is due to his parents' wealth and fame

but boy did he prove them WRONG

he's actually so good at his craft that his acting captivated many people

people are also shocked that he studied and actually has a bachelor's degree in fine arts

so yeah, this man is EDUCATED 

a fun fact that many didn't believe is that he wasn't actually even supposed to be an actor and only wanted to help produce and even create his own films

but when he helped producing a film, the director thought he would be a good eye candy on screen and encouraged him to try acting

he first landed some minor roles until more and more people paid attention to him, which helped him unleash his full potential as an actor

if you think he's goofy and silly in jjk, you best believe he is even MORE silly and goofy irl 😭

but he's literally the sunshine of the set so his goofiness really helps in easing the stress of his co-stars and the filming crew

if nanami's the one bringing drinks to the set, he's the one who brings TOO MANY sweets, specifically mochis

it's also ones that are really expensive too like 

doesn't drink coffee because he hates the bitter taste of it, maybe he'll drink one if it's sweet enough (aka doesn't taste like coffee at all), so nanami only buys him fruit teas and frappes LOL

he's also a detail-oriented man so his acting is really GOD TIER and is really keen on nailing every subtle detail whenever he is on screen

definitely very active on ig LOL acts like it's a dump account and is very interactive with his fans in the comment section

his ig composed of various selfies, photo dumps, promotions, his s/o, and definitely a lot of foods

i'd like to think that he also has his youtube channel as well

he posts vlogs and some behind the scenes when he's shooting a drama or magazine shoots 

tries, keyword: tries, not to show spoilers

pls save the directors from him for almost having heart attacks

as a boyfriend:

he really likes to tease you by making you help him practice his lines that needs him to use his hottest voice like bae, FOCUS 

he also practices the fight scenes with you btw 

but he's REALLY annoying about it please

remember that jogo scene? no, the one in shibuya

yeah, he made you feel his entire length like WOAH THERE DUDE? that ain't on the script for sure 😭

also comes home really late but makes up by cuddling you extra longer in the mornings

borrows your lip glosses and takes them to the set because he refuses to buy one and that "it makes your bond as a couple grow stronger" istg

now you know why his lips always look like that on screen LOL

puts them on right before going to the shoot so he can kiss you good with his glossy lips

[i-am-baechu]

♡ Summary: Y/N is just an average student at Seoul University but what she doesn’t know is that the person she’s been watching YouTube videos, streams, and having a crush on is the university heartthrob!

♡ Pairing: Gamer! Heartthrob! Jungkook x reader 

�� Rating: Explicit (18+) 

♡ Genre: Fluff, romance, smut, enemies to lovers, secret identity, fan girl, pride and prejudice inspired kind of and angst 

♡ Part of the The Legendary Seven

♡ Author's note: I think this might be a mini-series! I was also sick :( so sorry for the lack of response/posting!

“Did you see Jungkook!?”

“Of course I did! He was on the Calvin Klein TikTok page. He knew what he was doing.”

L/N Y/N raised her eyebrow at the two girls and continued her way to her class through the hall. She knew Jungkook was popular and it did help that his whole family was practically famous but to be a Calvin Klein model? That’s wild. 

Y/N is a middle-class student who entered Seoul University with a scholarship known as the Kim Family Scholarship. The brightest and the most talented are selected from all the schools in Korea. She wasn’t at the top of her classes nor did she play any instrument. She was just a simple person, so you can imagine her shocked face when she got it. 

Even now Y/N wasn’t spectacular. She got good grades but there was always someone else doing better. She participated in some sports but she wouldn’t call herself an athlete. She would never become one of the elite students and she was okay with that. Too much pressure.

Jeon Jungkook was the opposite of her. One of the top students (ranking in the legendary seven) and the top athlete, he was the guy that everyone wanted and hated. Yes, he was handsome and intelligent but Y/N didn’t really care about that, he was incredibly rude and selfish. She watched him break up with so many girls and had so many rendezvous around the campus that she wondered if any place was clean. A headache really.

She opened the door to her class and smiled when she saw her friend, Lee Taeyong, waiting for her at the back. Taeyong has been her friend since she was in diapers. They’ve been through everything, Y/N’s first period, Taeyong's ankle surgery, and first heart breaks. Best friends forever.

“Tae!” 

He looked up from his notebook and waved at her, “Y/N.”

She ran towards him unaware of the whispers amongst a certain group of people. She went through her bag and handed him a breakfast sandwich, “Mom made breakfast for us. I also have orange juice.”

Taeyong  pushed his glasses and smiled, “Thanks, my mom was wondering if you were coming over tonight?”

She happily nodded and sat down next to him, “of course I am.”

They continued to talk as Jungkook watched with his full attention. Taehyung let out a small laugh and playfully slapped his shoulder, “Why are you staring at Y/N?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and looked at him, “She doesn’t belong here.”

“Dude, why are you always on her? She doesn’t even speak to you.”

“She doesn’t take school seriously-”

Namjoon sighed and closed his book, “She passed every test in all her subjects. What more do you want for her?” 

“Not to be her.”

After class, Y/N and Taeyong made their way to the cafeteria. All the students were talking about the legendary seven but all Y/N wanted was her ramen.

The legendary seven, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and shit head (Jeon Jungkook). The top students and the wealthiest, they always mean trouble. She never understood how everyone can talk about them when they have their own problems. She didn’t see a point, she would never have a conversation with them so why would she talk about them? There’s nothing she could add to the conversation. 

Taeyong handed her chopsticks and she smiled, “I’m so excited. I love their ramen.”

“You do know it’s just a convenience store ramen.”

“But it’s free.”

She bowed her head at the worker and happily looked at her ramen making Taeyong laugh, “I want my kimchi fried rice.”

“Share half?”

“If you share half of your ramen.”

“Okay!~.”

The group entered and Jungkook sneered at Y/N who was eating her ramen cheerfully. He glanced at Taeyong who whipped her mouth and he scoffed. Jimin raised his eyebrow and looked at what he was looking at, “what now?”

“Nothing.”

Y/N looked up and saw Jungkook looking at her. She raised her eyebrow and looked behind her to see if there was someone else, but nothing. She looked back and saw Jungkook talking to his friends. She blinked her eyes a couple of times but she just shrugged her shoulders.

“Y/N!~” 

She waved her hand when she saw Kim Yerim running towards her. Yerim or Yeri to her close friends, was Y/N’s other best friend. Yeri met Y/N during high school by accident. Yeri wanted the same drink that Y/N had but sadly it was the last one. Y/N being Y/N bought the drink and gave it to her. Since then, Yeri has been with Y/N. 

Yeri was one of the wealthier students at school. She wasn’t as wealthy as Jungkook but she was wealthy enough to have a good future. Yeri would always make sure Y/N would have new clothes and bags so no one picked on her. Yeri would always defend Y/N against the others, it was sweet but she could take care of herself. 

“Yerrrriii~”

Yeri sat in front of Y/N with her tray, “Did you see the video?”

“Did Kook upload? Did I miss it?”

Yeri let out a small laugh and took her phone, “This is why you should have notifications on for him.” 

She rolled her eyes and saw that he was playing Lethal Company. She smiled to herself and watched for a few seconds before pushing Yeri’s hand, “I need to watch it when I go home.”  

 Taeyong let out a small chuckle, “Don’t you have homework?”

“I can watch and do it…” 

“Not if you get distracted with his voice.”

“Yeriii, leave me alone.” 

Kook is a famous YouTuber/streamer. He had millions of followers and it wasn’t just because he was good at games. So many love him because of his comedy and just his personality in general. Y/N came across him by accident one day and his voice caught her. It was clear that he changed his voice slightly but it still gave her butterflies.

“I was wondering, would you come to a party with me? It’s next week.”

Y/N brother her chopsticks down and raised her eyebrow, "Who's the host?”

“Jimin.”

Y/N scoffed and shook her head, “I don’t want to be there with them. All they do is stare at me and make me feel unwanted here. It’s weird.”

“Really? They're usually really kind…well except Jungkook.”

“Don’t get me started on that shithead. Always glaring at me, what does he have against me? I literally have never talked to him. It’s annoying.” 

Taeyong rubbed her shoulder gently, “don’t get worked up over him. He’s not worth it.”

“I know…it’s just annoying.”

Yeri glanced at Jungkook and the others with a nod, “I would be annoyed. I won’t go then, they don’t deserve our presence.” 

“Irene is having a party. She invited me, we can go to that one.”

Taeyong's eyes lightened up at this and looked at Y/N, “Why didn’t you tell me this!?”

“Because…I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Yeri let out a laugh and pointed her chopsticks at him, “He just wants to see Seulgi.”

“So-So what.”

“It's cute, Tae.” 

Jungkook was on his phone until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Rosé looking at him with a smile. He raised his eyebrow and put his phone down, “What do you want?”

“Is that how you treat your girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. Now what do you want?”

Rosé sighed and leaned back on the bench, “I need you to be my fake boyfriend.”

Jungkook let out a laugh, he couldn’t believe what he just heard, “For fucking what?”

“Tonight, I’m going to my cousin's dinner.”

“Why me?”

“Because I told my aunt we were dating and if she finds out I broke up with you she will be sad. I hate seeing her sad.” 

Jungkook turned his attention to her and crossed his arms over his chest, “First of all, I broke up with you. Second of all, since when are you nice?”

Rosé rolled her eyes and stood up from the table, “Can you just do this for me?”

“Fine. Only once.” 

“Trust me, it’s only going to be once. I can’t stand you.”

Jungkook let out a snicker and nodded his head, “Right back at you, cheater.”

“It’s your fault I cheated on you. You treated me like shit, what did you expect?”

“I treated you like shit? I gave you everything Rosé-”

“If you guys are gonna fight, can you do it outside?”

Jungkook turned to see Yoongi giving him a stern look, making him sigh. He turned to Rosé with an irritated look, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Ditto.”

Jungkook glared at her until she was out of sight. He turned back and Jin shook his head, “How did you date that?”

“It was a fling…”

Taehyung shook his head and finished off his kimchi, “No you liked her, a lot. Why didn’t you tell us she cheated?”

“It wasn’t worth talking about it…I just didn’t want to talk about her.” 

Jimin nodded his head and gave him a soft smile, “At least you're not together.”

“Yeah…” he glanced at Y/N who was now talking to Jaehyun. His eyes widened to see his friend talking to her. They looked like they were having a good conversation because they kept laughing. Jungkook looked back at Hoseok, “When did they become friends?”

Hoseok glanced at Y/N and then back at Jungkook, “I know Jae has been talking to her since high school.” 

“High school?”

“Yeah, they were friends because of Taeyong. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Jae, can you tell your friend to stop staring at me? It’s annoying.”

Jaehyun turned around and saw Jungkook looking at them. He waved at him and looked back at Y/N, “He’s just weird like that.”

“Eh, are we playing tonight?”

“Yeah, after dinner at Tae’s?”

“Yes sir.”

“See you tonight.”

Y/N watched him leave and she looked back to Yeri who had a smirk, “What?”

“When are you going to fuck him?”

Y/N’s turned into disgust and shook her head, “You're crazy.”  

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

“Tae, you didn’t tell me your cousin is coming.” 

Y/N let out a loud groan as she dropped on Taeyong’s bed. He sighed and put his book back on his shelf, “Mom just told me she was coming and apparently she's coming with her boyfriend.” 

“She has a boyfriend? I didn’t know that was possible for her.” 

Taeyong let out a laugh and shook his head, “People can change.” 

“I bet he was rich. You know the richer they are, the more likely they want a girl on their arm.” 

Footsteps were coming up the stairs and Y/N to see Taeyong’s mom looking at her with a smile, “Y/N, did you hear who’s coming?” 

Y/N sat up and nodded her head, “Rosé and her boyfriend.” 

Mrs. Lee nodded her head and clapped her hands excitedly, “I’m so happy she found someone.” 

Taeyong nodded his head and sat in his computer chair, “I’m sure he treats her right.” 

“She told me that he’s from a wealthy family.” 

Y/N glanced at Taeyong giving him a “I told you so” look. She looked at Mrs. Lee, nodding her head with a small smirk, “That’s good for her future. I’m sure she’ll have everything figured out.” 

“I sure hope so. Come down and get ready for dinner.” 

They watched the older woman leave the room with a skip in her step and Y/N looked at Taeyong with a frown, “Rosé...didn’t she break up with her boyfriend.”

Taeyong nodded his head and rubbed his forehead, “Knowing Rosé, she has a scheme.”

Y/N shook her head and looked at the ceiling with a frown, “Your mom doesn’t deserve lies.” 

“Trust me, I know. Let’s go and keep her happy.” 

They made their way downstairs but Y/N stopped in the middle when she met with familiar brown eyes. Jungkook looked at her with surprised eyes and they continued to stare at each other but neither of them said a word. He hated her for whatever reason and she hated him for being a shithead. What’s there to say? She glanced down and saw Rosé holding his hand, so this is the boyfriend. She continued to walk down the stairs and walked past Jungkook who continued to stare at her. 

Jungkook was surprised to see her but he didn’t know why, she was always around Taeyong. Tonight seemed different with her appearance. She looked more elegant with her hair down (she only ever wore ponytails or buns to school) and had a black dress on. She was more poised, something that surprised him. He watched her lean towards Taeyong and they both let out a quiet laugh. He wondered if she would ever laugh with him. He shook his head and glanced at Rosé, “Aunty, this is my boyfriend, Jungkook.” 

Y/N bit her lip from laughing because it was clear that he was uncomfortable. With the way he visibly stiffened at her touch, he didn’t want to be here. Y/N glanced at Jungkook who was looking at Mrs. Lee. She rolled her eyes and turned to walk towards the kitchen with Taeyong next to her, He probably made her think he liked her and wasn’t expecting to get this far with her. How typical of him. 

Jungkook watched the two leave but he couldn’t help but feel judged by them. Every time Y/N looked at him she would lean towards Taeyong. How could she be judgemental? She’s not the same status, why would she judge him? It should be the opposite, that’s what his mother always taught him. “Judge those who are lower than you and question why they are so low? The answer is they don’t have a good work ethic.” 

When Mrs. Lee turned to walk towards the kitchen, Jungkook ripped his hand out of Rosé’s hand, “I told you don’t touch me.”

“That’s not what you were saying before. My aunty looked happy, that’s good.” The two walked towards the rest of them and Rosé glanced at Jungkook, “Also, stop staring at Y/N. I know she’s pretty but now is not the time.”

Jungkook scoffed and glanced at Y/N and then at Rosé, “What?” 

“Y/N, she’s pretty.”

“Anyone can be pretty but not everybody can be beautiful.” 

Rosé raised her eyebrow and grabbed Jungkook’s hand as she looked up at him, “Are you saying she's pretty?” 

“Let’s sit.” 

Y/N sat next to Taeyong as she ate her chicken. She glared at Jungkook, if people wanted to talk amongst themselves they should do quieter, “Anyone can be pretty.” Who is he? The mirror from Snow White. She wishes he was because then she could just break the glass and be done with it. She stopped listening after that part, if she continued to listen to him she would lose more brain cells. Her phone vibrated in her dress pocket and when no one was paying attention, she brought out her phone. 

Did you see it? Kook is hosting a special event! All you have to do is comment on his post and send him a DM and the lucky winner gets to play with him! 

Y/N’s eyes widened and she tapped Taeyong’s thigh. He looked at her with a curious look and she glanced down. Taeyong eyes landed on the message and he looked back at her, “Are you going to do it”

“Of course I am. This is the only chance I get to speak to him.” 

“I hope you win then.”

“Don’t tell Yeri that.” 

Jungkook was annoyed that Rosé kept touching him but he knew had to be an actor tonight. He smiled at Mrs. Lee who placed more rice on his plate, “Rosé told me that you guys met at the library. That’s really sweet.” 

Lie. They met during a party and he fucked her in a bathroom. Not sweet but he knew Rosé was a good liar. He looked at Mrs. Lee and nodded his head, “She couldn’t reach for a book, I was there to help her.” 

Y/N let out a small laugh and glanced at Taeyong, “He really sucks at lying.” 

“Don’t ruin our show.” 

“You are tall, do you play basketball?”

Jungkook nodded his head and rubbed the back of his neck, “I play basketball, soccer, and baseball.” 

“Oh, wow. All-rounder, good pick Rosé.” 

“Thank you, Aunty.” 

After dinner, Y/N was the first to leave. She was walking out when she saw Jungkook and Rosé come out of the side door. Her eyes widened and she hid in a bush, curiosity was going to kill the cat tonight. 

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and pulled her hand out of his, “No problem. Now what do I get out of this?” 

Rosé sighed and rolled her eyes, “What do you want?”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

Rosé let out a small laugh and nodded her head, “Don’t ask me twice. After how you treated me.” 

Y/N nodded her head and looked at Jungkook, I knew it.

Jungkook scoffed, “You can continue thinking that. I have to go home.” Jungkook turned around and started walking towards his car but stopped when he heard, “Don’t forget what I said about Y/N.”

Jungkook glanced at Rosé and glared at her, “It’s my life. Stay out of it.” 

“Anyone can become beautiful if you give them the chance too.” 

Jungkook unlocked his car and got into it. Y/N watched him drive away and she raised her eyebrow, What the hell was that about? 

Yeri and Y/N sat on Taeyong’s bed with nervous looks. Y/N glanced at her phone and then at Yeri, “You do it first.” 

Yeri shook her head and pointed at Y/N, “You’ve been his fan longer. You do it first.” 

Taeyong rolled his eyes and turned towards them with his book in his lap now, “Just do it. The worst thing that can happen is that he doesn’t respond.” 

“Don’t say that because that means it's going to happen!” 

Y/N sighed but her phone vibrated and she raised her eyebrow, “Jaehyun?” She opened her messages and she smiled to herself. 

You cheated last night, I want a rematch 

It’s not my fault you're a loser! ;p 

I’m the one that showed you the game >:( 

Fine, rematch tonight 

I’ll win this time!!! 

“Are you texting Jaehyun?”

Y/N looked over her phone and nodded her head at Yeri, “Stop with that look. We’re friends.” 

“You can be so much more.”

“Taeyong, can you-”

“No, Y/N. You do it.” 

Y/N sighed and clicked on Kook’s Instagram. He doesn’t really post and when he does it’s just his computer setup or even just his day. There were no pictures of himself but Y/N knows he’s handsome, he has to be. With the way he laughs in his streams and how he goes to cafes, he’s literally the perfect guy for her. 

She sighed and looked up at Yeri, “I’m going to do it.” 

“You're bluffing!” 

“No, I’m doing it. Let’s get it over with.” Y/N clicked on the most recent picture and liked it (something she doesn’t do because it makes her feel shy). Then she clicked the small bubble sending a message, “Event...sorry this is so awkward. Thank you for posting, it makes me happy : ) .” 

Y/N tossed her phone and hid her face in her hands, “I did it! But omg I feel like I’m going to get sick. Yeri you do it.” 

“Oh, I did it yesterday.” 

Y/N removed her hands and glared at her, “We were supposed to do it together!” 

“I lied.” 

Jungkook was in his gamer room and was staring at his DM’s. It wasn’t until his eyes landed on a familiar face. He felt weird but he clicked on her profile ignoring his heart beating faster. “Y/N_Cupcake. How interesting.” He went through her profile and he felt a smile appear but he quickly shook his head. Stop feeling that way towards her. 

Y/N went to get a book from the Library when she heard snickers behind her. She turned her head to see it was Jessica and her goons. They would always bully the scholarship kids because why not? They were sad and just looking for an outlet. She rolled her eyes and continued making her way to the tall building. She ignored the footsteps but couldn’t anymore when one of them grabbed her backpack, pulling her back. 

“Going to the library because you can’t afford the books.” 

“We can easily get the books, makes things easier.”

Y/N nodded her head and gave them a blank look, “I’m sure it does. Having access to books makes things easier, what a privilege you have.” 

Jessica raised her eyebrow and poked at Y/N’s shoulder harshly, “Are you pestering me?” 

“I’m simply agreeing with you. That’s what you want, right? For me to know that you're richer and how I’m beneath you. I’m giving you the attention that is clear you are craving for.” 

“What did-”

“Jessica, at least she knows how to read. You should read the books you can easily buy.” 

Y/N looked over Jessica’s shoulder and she raised her eyebrow to see Jungkook. He stood there in his simple black shirt and his tattoos on full display. She glanced at Jessica and pushed her finger away, “Now, I have to go read. I hope you enjoy the books that you can purchase while I have to go to the dusty library. Oh, I hope there’s someone to save me from the dust.” 

Y/N turned around and started walking away as Jungkook couldn’t help himself to let out a small chuckle. Jungkook looked at Jessica and smirked, “You heard her, she needs someone to save her.” 

He walked past the girls leaving Jessica in shock. She turned towards her friends with a shocked face, “Is Jungkook dating her!?” 

“I’m not sure, the last I heard he was dating Rosé.”

“She's a homewrecker then. Girls, we have a busy day ahead of us.” 

Y/N heard footsteps and turned around with an annoyed look expecting to see Jessica but it turned to confusion, “Jungkook? Are you following me?” 

“I-I wouldn’t say following you.” 

“Then what do you call this? I have never seen you in the library but today of all days you're going.” 

Jungkook nodded his head and put his hands in his pocket, “It’s quiet.”

“Especially when you're alone.” 

“Yes, I agree.” 

She glanced to the side and gave him a small smirk, “Even those who aren’t beautiful would agree with you.” Jungkook's face fell as she let out a small laugh and she turned around but before she left his sight she glanced at him over her shoulder, “When you're talking about someone and they're in the room, next time, be quieter.” 

Y/N continued to walk and she smiled to herself when she heard no footsteps behind her. She continued to walk away as Jungkook watched her leave his sight. He let out a laugh and shook his head, “Full of surprises...” 

Y/N entered the library and she waved at Jaehyun. She happily walked up to him and glanced at all the books, “Big test coming up?” 

“It’s all for biology.”

She looked between the books and at him with a confused look, “I thought you owned these books already? Why are you at the library?” 

“To have the chance to be in your presence.” 

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “Shut up. Did your brother take them?” 

“Yeah, so here I am. What are you here for?” 

“I need to do some research for my literature class.” 

“Boring.”

Y/N glanced out the window and she watched Jungkook talking to Taehynug. She looked back at Jaehyun with an interested look, “Your friends with Jungkook?” 

“I wouldn’t say friends...acquaintances really.”

She raised her eyebrow at this, “Acquaintances? You're a good guy, how could anyone be acquainted with you?” 

Jaehyun let out a small laugh, “He just doesn’t like me because I was talking to Rosé.”

“Talking?”

“I had a project with Rosé and he didn’t like that I was talking to her. He even punched me.” 

Y/N scoffed at this and shook her head, “He punched you for trying to do homework. How...actually it's exactly how I pictured him to be.” 

Jaehyun shrugged his shoulders and let out a laugh, “It’s nothing really. Can I sit with you?”

“As long as you know the ques to talk to me, then yes.”

“Thank god I do then.” 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Parties, it wasn’t Y/N’s favorite thing in the world but it did help her get out of the house and out of work. Of course, she loved helping her parents make fried rice but sometimes you just want to get drunk. She smiled at Irene who returned one, Irene was the pretty senior that all the girls wanted to date. Y/N can see why, she was kind and awkward. Adorable. 

Y/N sat on the couch with Taeyong who was drinking his heart out. She frowned at this and rubbed his knee, “I’m sure she's coming. Just be patient.” 

“It’s been too long.”

“Tae, it’s literally been thirty minutes. She’s coming, be patient.” 

Taeyong frowned at her and glanced at her, “Be nice to me.” 

“I am, I’m reassuring you. Liquid courage can help you.” 

Y/N smiled at him and stood up from the couch to get some water. As she made her way, Yeri grabbed her arm, “Did you hear?” 

“What is it?” 

“Jessica has been running her mouth about you.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow and let out a snicker, “About what? My boring life is exciting for her?” 

“It’s not boring. It’s comfortable. She’s saying that you're a homewrecker but she won’t say who the couple is.” 

“Do people believe her? The only man I’ve been around is Taeyong and everyone knows he’s in love with Seulgi…we’ll expect for Seulgi.”

Yeri let out a laugh as Y/N smiled but it dropped when she saw who was in front of her. She glanced at Yeri but Yeri didn’t dare to look at her, “Jungkook? I thought you would be at Jimin’s.” 

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and looked at Y/N, “I was at Jimin’s but I wanted to come by. Irene asked me to visit her more, so here I am.” 

Y/N nodded her head at him with a blank look, “Here you are.” 

“Y/N, would you like a drink?” 

Y/N glanced at Yeri who shrugged her shoulders. Y/N looked back at Jungkook but kept her blank stare, “Sure. I was already making my way there until you stopped me.” 

“I’m sorry for stopping you. Yeri are coming?”

Yeri shook her head and let go of Y/N, “I’m going to check on Taeyong. Bye~.” 

Y/N waved at Yeri and then looked back at Jungkook, “Irene has had four parties this month but you come today. Are you sure you're not following me?” 

“Would you be flatter?”

“The opposite...let’s get a drink.” 

They walked through the crowd of people and Junkook placed his hand behind her back. She glanced at him over her shoulder but he kept looking straight. She didn’t push his hand away and she didn’t know why she didn’t. It was quiet between the two and she sighed to herself, “No small talk?” 

“What is there to talk about?” 

“I don’t know. You're the one that invited me to get a drink, shouldn’t you make small talk.” 

Jungkook handed her a cup of water and shrugged his shoulders, “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You can talk about the test we had in math or even lunch. Something.” 

“The math test was easy.” 

“It was.”

Y/N took a sip as Jungkook did the same, “Y/N, I saw you talking to Jaehyun.”

She raised her eyebrow and nodded her head, “Yes, I talk to him once in a while. Why does that bother you?”

“Jaehyun, be careful of him.”

Y/N let out a scoff and took a sip of her water, “Be careful? Shouldn’t I be careful of you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Jaehyun told me. He told me you punched him for talking to Rosé all because he wanted to do his project.” 

Jungkook raised his eyebrow and turned his whole body towards her. She looked up at him and felt like he was a tower next to her, “And you believe that?” 

“I have no reason not to. Jae would never lie to me.”

Jungkook leaned down until his nose touched hers, “There’s always more to the story. Don’t believe just one side.” 

She looked at his lip ring and then at his brown eyes, “Then tell the other side.” 

“Jungkook! Are you ready!?” 

They turned their heads to see Jimin looking at them with a raised eyebrow. Jungkook let out a small cough and gave her a look that Y/N couldn’t read, “You already passed judgment before knowing my side. Isn’t that wrong of you?” 

“It’s really hard not to when I know your character.” 

“Do you really know me?” 

Y/N’s face dropped and she looked away from his stare, “I know enough.” 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Bye.” 

She felt him leave but she couldn’t rip her eyes off the white wall. She felt embarrassed to be called out like that. He was right but he makes it really hard to be nice. She glanced where he walked off towards her and saw his eyes were already on hers. She didn’t look away from his intense stare, instead, she encouraged it. 

It’s been a week since Jungkook talked to her and she was feeling uneasy. She hasn’t been talking to Jaehyun and her thoughts have been replaying. “Do you really know me?” He seemed hurt by her assumptions and she was surprised to see it. He was rude to a lot of people but here he was, hurt by her words. Who is she to hurt the rich and powerful Jungkook? It actually made her sick that she was called out for her actions. Ashamed...

Y/N shut off the stove and walked out in the front room of her parents' restaurant. She saw her mother reading a letter and she squinted her eyes, “Omma? What is that?” 

“It’s from the landlord...they want us to close the restaurant.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened and she shook her head, “What? We’ve been paying every month. How can-”

“Someone wants to buy the restaurant...Appa doesn’t have the money to outbid them.”

Y/N frowned and sat next to her mother, “We’ll figure this out. We always figure it out.” 

She heard the door open and she saw Jungkook standing there with his usual outfit. She glanced at her mother and kissed the side of her head. She stood up and went to greet him with a fake smile, “Welcome-”

“Y/N, I want to talk to you.” 

She glanced at her mother and then back at him, “Now is not the time...”

“It’s important.” 

“Jungkook-”

“Did you say Jungkook? As in Jeon Jungkook?”

Y/N turned around and nodded her head at her mother, “Yes, omma-”

“Why do you want this restaurant?”

Y/N's face broke and she turned her head slowly at him, “You're buying our restaurant?” 

Jungkook looked at Y/N and shook his head, “I-I had no idea it was yours.”

Y/N let out a forced laugh and shook her head, “You're so rich that you want to buy everything in Korea. Out of everything, you buy my home. Do you hate me so much? What have I done to you? Is this payback because I’m friendly with Jae?” 

“Y/N-”

“No...I don’t want to hear it from you. Actually, I don’t ever want to hear from you again. This whole time I felt ashamed for making judgments on you but they were all right. You are selfish, prideful, and just....I can’t even put into words how much I hate you right now. Get out.”

“Y/N, please listen-”

“Out. Now.” Jungkook nodded his head and took one final glance at Y/N before closing the door. She glared at the glass and shook her head, “Of course it was him...” 

She ran into her room and shut her door. Here she was feeling bad for Jungkook, what an idiot. She fell into her bed and turned on her phone to watch one of Kook’s videos, at least then she would be entertained and not sad. Anything to forget today. 

Jungkook slammed the door making Jin look up in worry, “Is everything okay?”

“My dad's buying Y/N restaurant…”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow and glanced at Jimin who shrugged his shoulders. He looked back at Jungkook with a confused look, “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because she hates me…I can’t have her hate me. Not her. Anyone but… her.”

Namjoon stood up and walked towards Jungkook. He placed his hand on his shoulder, “You need to be honest with her and with yourself.”

“Hyung, she hates me…it doesn’t matter how I feel.”

Hoseok stood up and gave him a soft smile, “Yes it does. You can still fix this.”

Jungkook looked at Hoseok and then back at Namjoon, “You’re right. I can fix this.” 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

“Y/N, I’m sorry for spreading these rumors.” 

Y/N looked at Taeyong who shrugged his shoulders. Y/N was in the library studying with Taeyong when Jessica came to her. Y/N was ready to fight back with whatever she had but it was the opposite, “Thank you?”

Jessica nodded her head and walked out leaving Y/N confused. She glanced down at the table and was confused. She looked at Taeyong with furrowed eyebrows, “Do you think she’s dying?” 

“Y/N, what?” 

“Well, why else would she apologize?” 

“Maybe she felt bad.”

Y/N let out a small chuckle and shook her head, “I don’t think so...It’s Jessica.” 

“That is true but maybe she saw her wrongs.” 

“Did you see Jungkook?”

“Of course I did...He looks so good at practice.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and harshly closed her book, “He gets praised for being an asshole while I get my house stolen because of his selfish desires.” 

“Y/N, I’m sure everything has a reason.”

“Reason or not, he’s still an asshole. I have to go, your cousin wants me to go to a museum with her.” 

Taeyong raised his eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, “A museum? With Rosé?” 

“I was surprised too but she said she’ll pay for it and that caught my attention.” 

“What is she planning?” 

“I’ll go find out. I’ll text you later.” 

The museum had a special exhibit for the students. She had never been to this museum but since someone else was paying for it, it was time to get cultured. She saw Rosé looking at a piece of art and she awkwardly walked up to her. Rosé turned around and gave her a smile, “Y/N, you're early.” 

“I had to catch the bus, better early than late with city transportation.” 

Rosé let out a small laugh and nodded her head, “Well, let’s go look around.”

“Sure.” 

They entered the student pieces and Y/N tried her best to focus on the art. It was awkward with Rosé, there was something in the air and she couldn’t decipher what it was. It made her feel nervous and she hated feeling that. She landed on a picture, it was a silhouette of a woman reading in the sunlight with flowers all around. Even though you couldn’t see her face, you could see that she was relaxed and happy. She glanced down to see the name and her eyes widened a bit, In My Dreams by Jeon Jungkook. 

“He knows how to capture a moment doesn’t he...” 

She glanced at Rosé and then back at the picture, “You look relaxed.”

“That’s not me. Can you really not tell who that is?” 

Y/N looked at Rosé and shook her head, “It’s a silhouette. How am I supposed to know?” 

Rosé let out a laugh and shook her head, “It should be called mirror now that you're here.” 

Y/N looked at the picture and she tilted her head, “That can’t be me...Why is your boyfriend taking a picture of me? Is he a pervert?” 

Rosé sighed and glanced at the picture with a small smile, “He took this picture when we broke up...he was looking for his muse and there was you. Reading with the sunlight, it was perfect.” 

“Rosé, why am I here?” 

“Jae isn’t all good...”

Y/N scoffed and looked at Rosé with an annoyed look, “Did Jungkook put you up to this?” 

“No, I saw Jae talking to you and I was worried.” 

“Worried?” 

“Y/N, I cheated on Jungkook with Jae...he promised to love me and only me but Jae left me...”

Y/N frowned at this, “Does that mean Jungkook cheated on you?”

“In a way...there was always one person on his mind. It was never me, I should’ve known but I wanted to hope he could change for me.” 

“That’s horrible of him to do.” 

Rosé let out a laugh and nodded her head, “It is. You want to know who the person was?” 

“It could be Nora, I know she-”

“It was you.” 

Y/N stared at Rosé with a shocked face and then she started laughing, shaking her head, “Probably because he hates me.” 

“The opposite...your scholarship. It’s special you know and Taehyung’s family hands them out.” 

“Yes...why are you bringing this up?” 

“Jungkook read your essay for the scholarship and I think that’s when he fell in love with you.”

“Jungkook, can you read this half?”

Jungkook sighed and leaned back in his chair with an annoyed look. For five hours he’s been helping Taehyung go through these essays. Some were good and some were, and some were funny. He only agreed because he didn’t want to help his dad with paperwork for his work. 

“How much can I read?” 

Taehyung sighed and gave him one essay, “Fine, read this one and you can take a break.”

“Can I play on your computer?”

“I just got it-”

“I can always leave.”

“Fine. Don’t break it or I’ll get yelled at.” 

Jungkook smiled in triumph and took the paper out of his hand. He looked at the paper and saw the name L/N Y/N. Every essay was different, the person could write whatever they wanted. It could be a poem, a story, etc. It just had to showcase how the person’s brain worked. He didn’t think much because so far all the essays were around pages long about their lives and struggles. He wasn’t expecting a poem.

A galaxy with no stars, a map with no direction 

Just a traveler trying to find its safe haven 

“Seek and ye shall find” 

But they never say what will find you

I used to drift away 

Never wanted to stay 

The world was too big for me

But too small for my thoughts 

If I was quiet, I could disappear 

Vanishing from the pain 

Anything to get away 

I hate the lack of control 

But I’m the one to blame 

This nightmare has consumed me 

Everything seems so real 

Even that look in your eyes 

Another day with a new dream 

Steps to enlightenment brightens the way 

But the steps are steep 

Take them one at a time 

If fear paralyzes me then hope is gone  

And this nightmare wins 

There was something with the way the words flowed and it was like he could hear her voice. She was different from all the other essays and he understood how she felt in her poem. He kept rereading the poem and he smiled to himself, it would be dumb to let her go, “I found one.”

“Rosé...why-”

“Jungkook, he tries to be an ass to push people away because he’s scared to lose them. Jae knows this, he likes to toy with him because of it.”

Y/N glanced at the picture and frowned, “I thought they were friends.”

“They were...but Jae knew how to get what he wanted from Jungkook.” Rosé turned towards the picture and frowned, “I knew he was in love with you but I just craved for something...anything really. Jae promised me he would love me and I cheated on Jungkook. I broke him because he trusted me with his secrets and I broke it.”

“Jae...he knew that Jungkook was talking to me. That’s why he wanted to spend time with me, to hurt Jungkook.” 

“When I saw you guys talking in the library, I knew what he was doing and I didn’t want you to become another victim to his game.” 

Y/N looked down at her shoes with shame, “I thought I knew Jungkook and I already had a picture in my head...”

“You knew him through other people but you don’t know him truly. I don’t even know him truly.” 

“I still can’t forgive him for buying my home but I do need to say sorry...” 

Rosé smiled at this and nodded her head, “I can tell you that Jungkook had no say in buying your home. His father makes all the deals but knowing Jungkook he has a plan up his sleeve.” 

Y/N looked up at Rosé with a confused look, “What do you mean?”

“Nothing...we should grab lunch.” 

Y/N sat on Yeri’s bed staring at her Instagram with a blank expression, “Are you sure today is the announcement?” 

Yeri nodded her head and turned to her side to face Y/N, “That’s what his Instagram story said. Maybe you won.”

Y/N scoffed at and lay next to Yeri, “With the way my life is going, I just know I lost.” 

Yeri sighed and looked at her ceiling, “I want you to win because I miss your smile.”

“If I win, I will die from shock.”

“Please not on my sheets, I just washed them.”

Y/N let out a laugh and glanced at Kook’s profile, “how do you think Kook’s personality is?”

“I’m not sure, what about you.”

“I would like to think he’s caring and kind. I bet he’s full of surprises.” 

Just then their phones vibrated and glanced at each other. Yeri smirked at Y/N, “Are you ready to see who won?

“Yeah…whoever you are, I hate you.”

They clicked on the story bubble and Y/N sat straight up in her bed, “Oh my god.”

“Soooo…do you hate yourself?”

That night, Y/N and Yeri watched past videos of Kook. That whole night, Y/N felt her heartbeat and she noticed that Kook felt familiar but she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because she watched him for a while. That’s what she’s telling herself. 

Rosé dragged Y/N and Yeri to the soccer game. Y/N knew why Rosé brought her here and she didn’t know how she felt. She hadn’t seen Jungkook since he was at the restaurant and honestly, it felt like she was seeking out for him. Every time she went to the cafeteria she would hope to catch a glimpse of him but alas nothing. She didn’t know what she wanted to hear from him but she just wanted something from him. 

She watched Jungkook make a goal and she couldn’t stop the smile appearing on her face. Rosé glanced at her and smirked, “You're smiling.” 

“Our team is winning...who wouldn’t be smiling at that?” 

“You because you hate sports but here we are.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and she turned back to be locked on Jungkook, “I have no idea what you're talking about.” 

Jungkook looked into the audience and his eyes landed on Y/N. They both stared at each other until his coach called him and the stare-down was broken. She couldn’t forgive Jungkook for buying her home but deep down, she just wanted him to talk to her. 

After the game, Rosé brought Y/N down to the field and everything felt slow motion. Jungkook walked up to her and Y/N waited for him by the gates. She smiled at him and looked down at her shoes, “Good job at winning.” 

“I felt a boost of confidence when I saw you. You hate sports so it's an honor that you came by.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and looked up at him with softness, “I saw your picture...it was beautiful.” 

He stiffed and rubbed the back of his head, “You saw that? What do you think?” 

“I like the flowers. It’s peaceful. What does it mean? The title...” 

Jungkook grabbed Y/N’s hand as they stared at each other with softness, “In my dreams, you're there with me with flowers around us. That’s all I want...”

Y/N glanced down at his lips but then at his doe eyes, “I-I...Jungkook.”

“I know...I just needed you to hear it from me.”

She glanced down at his tattooed hand with a frown, “Jungkook, I’m sorry. I judge you wrongly.” 

“It’s okay at least you know me. That’s all I wanted before it was too late...maybe it is too late.” 

Y/N looked up and felt the warmth left her when he removed his hand, “I-”

“Jungkook, the coach wants us!”

Jungkook glanced and nodded his head at his teammate. He looked back at Y/N and gave her one final smile, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yea-Yeah, I’ll see you later.” 

Y/N watched him leave and she couldn’t remove her eyes off of his back. She felt sick to her stomach and all she wanted to do was cry on her pillow. Why is life so complicated?

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

Today was the day that Y/N was going to play a game with Kook. She couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. For years she dreamed about this and it was finally happening. The couple of months have been the worst in her life but now she can forget it for an hour or two. She entered the room for Minecraft (something she thought was strange for him but she ignored it) that Kook sent her. 

She entered the room and she looked at the screen with confusion. She was surrounded by flowers and it looked like someone took out all the trees. It was just flowers until she saw a sign. She walked up to the sign and read it closely, “Y/N, I’m sorry for everything that I have put you through. Please come downstairs.” 

Her mouth dropped, “No fucking way.” She pushed her chair away and ran down the stairs as fast as she could. There was a knock at the door and she knew in hindsight this was pretty suspicious but she knew who it was. She opened the door and he stood there looking at her with his doe eyes, “Kook?”

Jungkook smiled and even with him being soaked from the rain couldn’t stop his smile, “Y/N.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“I have so much to tell you.” 

“Sure, my parents are out right now. Come in.” 

They walked in and went to her room to have privacy. They sat on her bed (with Jungkook sitting on a towel) and she couldn’t look him in the eyes. He knew had to make the first move, “Your restaurant is homely.” 

“Thanks, we tried our best. It won’t be ours anymore.” 

“That's what I wanted to tell you.”

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

“I bought the restaurant...I’m your landowner and as your new landowner, I request no rent. Just live here and be happy.” 

She let out a laugh and shook her head, “What are you going on about?”

Jungkook turned towards her and grabbed her hands, “My father wanted to make this into a high-class restaurant. I told him he couldn’t do that, I saw potential in it, I told him. He said then it’s all mine or it’s going back to the previous landowner. I bought it because I knew this was your home and I wanted you to be happy.” 

“I-I have no words. You did this for me?”

“I would do anything for you.” 

“Did you tell Jessica to say sorry to me?”

Jungkook let out a laugh and nodded his head, “I did. It was pretty easy to convince her.” 

She smiled and rubbed his knuckles gently, “You picked me for the scholarship...”

“Rosé told you?” 

“She did...she also told me that...she told me that you're in love with me. Kook, I need to hear it from you.”

Jungkook leaned forward and placed his forehead on hers, “I-I’m in love with you...I was a selfish asshole in the beginning because I wanted to push you away. I realized that I couldn’t do that anymore to you nor myself. I love you, L/N Y/N. If you don’t feel the same, then say it.” 

She smiled and looked down. Silence encased around them and he couldn’t help but laugh. She looked back at his face and tilted her head. She gave him a quick kiss, “I feel the same...you were a selfish asshole. I’m glad we can agree on that.” 

He rolled his eyes and pushed some hair behind her ear, “Full of surprises.” 

“You did all this for me and never told me...”

“I was scared to tell you. You hated me, remember.” 

“For good reason.” 

He shook his head and chuckled, “Yes for good reason…can I have permission to kiss you?”

“Permission granted.”

He glanced down at her lips and she smiled at the softness in his eyes. She nodded her head and he leaned forward placing his lips on hers. The rain that was hitting her window became silent and the only thing that they felt was each other. His lips molded against hers with slowness making her head spin from the passion. It wasn’t until she felt his tongue against her lower lip, Oh, Jungkook. She parted her mouth and he made his way inside. He tasted like banana milk with a hint of chocolate, it was addictive. She knew she was in trouble. 

When they pulled apart, their foreheads touched as he pushed some hair away from her face. She placed her hands on top of his and frowned, “You’re hands...they're cold.” 

“I don’t feel cold when I’m with you.” 

She rolled her eyes and admired his face, “Should I warm you up?” 

His eyebrows raised and he was taken aback by her mischievous look, “Can you?”

“Is that a challenge, Mr. Jeon?” 

“Always is...especially with you.” 

She gently wiped water from his face, “Careful...you look like you're in love.” 

“Then I’ll get injured. It will be worth it.” 

He brought her into another passionate kiss but it was different from the first kiss. A soft moan slips from her throat and is swallowed by his lips. She clung to him, fingers curling at his gray jacket as he sucked on her tongue. She let out a small whimper when he gently bit her lip. When they parted, she couldn’t look away from him. Jungkook brought up his thumb running against her spit-soaked lower lip, he was captivated by the hazed-out love-drunk look on her face.  

“Do you want to continue?” 

“I would be stupid to say no...and stupid is not what I am.” 

He let out a laugh and pushed up her shirt. She quickly raised her arms and he tossed the black shirt over her head. She let out a small laugh at his eagerness but it was quickly wiped away when she saw the lust in his eyes. She was grateful that she didn’t wear a bra at home. He palmed against her breasts and squeezed them gently before his mouth replaced it. Softly moaning his name as her hands were brushing through his hair. 

His tongue flicked against her sensitive nub making her buck against him. He smirked at the effect he had on her. He gently pushed her on the bed and her head was against her pillows, looking at him with patience. She looked beautiful. Her hair sprawled out with all her little moles begging him to continue. Her stretch marks were his map that he couldn’t help but follow with his fingertips. She was a masterpiece that even he couldn’t afford on a good day. 

“What?” 

He rubbed her stomach gently and shook his head, “Nothing.” 

He gently removed her sweats and was met with a thin fabric. He stared at it for a second before tossing it with her shirt. Y/N felt his hands brushing over her ankles, her knees, and then her thighs while feeling his tongue sliding against her skin. She felt him kiss the inside of her thighs and she looked away with shyness washing over her face. She let out an unsteady breath when she felt his hot breath between her legs. 

“Jung-Jungkook.” She gasped out loud and her head whipped back to look at him. He placed his hands on her hips. 

He looked up and saw her flushed face and he smirked but then realization hit him. Was she inexperienced with this? He was going to show her that all the other guys she was with before were missing out on the greatest masterpiece. 

“Relax, I got you.” 

“Oh fuck...” She was squirming underneath him, the overwhelming sensation was taking over her. “Jung-Jungkook...please.” She wasn’t sure what she was pleading for but everything was overwhelming in a good way. 

Suddenly he added a finger and Y/N melted against him. Her fingers were gripping on the sheets and his hair, “I..I...Oh.” She breathed before he added another finger and the sensation of his tongue swirling around her clit was making her go crazy. 

Everything hit her. She was breathing loudly and he watched her face scrunched up. Jungkook slowly moved himself on top of her with a proud smirk. He saw the dazed state she was in and kissed her neck. Tasting the saltness while she was breathing loudly. 

“Are you okay?” 

She glanced at him and brought him into a kiss. He let out a groan when he felt her sucking at the tip of his tongue. She pushed him away and bit her lip, “I need you.”

“Need me for what?” 

She rolled her eyes and unzipped his jacket, tossing it at her pile of clothes. She glanced at his tattoos and gently traced them with her fingertips. She knew many hated his tattoos but she saw it as her map. A map that was filled with adventure and color within her black-and-white life. It was the most beautiful art piece she had ever seen. She was going to keep it from the public the best she could. 

“I need you inside of me.” 

“Can’t argue with that.” 

Jungkook took off his jeans as she leaned towards her nightstand taking out a condom. When he was done, he leaned back on top of her, kissing her slowly while she brushed her hands over his biceps. He slid his hand down the valley of her breast and then cupped her between her legs, making her buck against him, “You ready?” 

“Mmmm....”

He turned them around and she was on top, placing her hands on his chest to push herself up. Her eyes widened at the change but it quickly washed away, “Perfect.” 

“Oh..shit.” He groaned at the feeling and leaned forward nipping at her neck while helping her set a pace. She arched her back, moving up and down. His hands slid towards her ass, grabbing onto the cheeks, pushing himself deeper. 

Jungkook couldn’t take it anymore because of the eagerness he had with her. He suddenly grabbed her and slammed himself deeper inside of her. She moaned out his name and held onto him as he quickened his pace. Her nails digging into his tattooed arm. 

“Y-Y/N...shit.” 

Jungkook felt her clenching around him and he couldn’t hold back anymore. Groaning as he came and fell on top of her, both of them breathing loudly. She looked up at him and saw hair sticking to his forehead and she smiled. She pushed the hair and gently traced his face, “I-I love you.”

“I love you more...so much more.” 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

“Hey guys, it’s Kook. I’m going to take a small vacation since it’s the holidays but enjoy my top moments of 2023. I’ll see you next year! Happy New Year and drop a like if you laugh.” 

Y/N smiled at her phone and she sat on the couch, “Babe, do you want chicken?” 

“That sounds good.” 

Jungkook came into his living room and tilted his head, “What are you watching?” 

She let out a small laugh and looked up at him with a mischievous look, “My favorite Youtuber...” 

“Well, I hope he knows that I’m your favorite everything.”  

“I guess...” 

It’s been three months since their relationship. Her parents were shocked that she was dating him but after she explained everything to them, they saw him in a different light. Everyone at school was surprised to see Jungkook with someone like Y/N but no one questioned him (except Jessica). 

Rosé and Jaehyun became the new couple of the campus. Rosé didn’t have a choice to be with Jaehyun after the news got out that she cheated on Jungkook. She didn’t want her image to be ruined, so she settled with him. Jaehyun on the other hand was upset that Y/N was with Jungkook. He even tried to fight Jungkook but lost that fight. Jaehyun didn’t love Rosé the way he loved Y/N but Jungkook isn’t going anywhere. 

Taeyong and Yeri hated Jungkook at first but they started to like him slowly. Y/N wanted to tell them what Jungkook had done for her but he wanted to earn their likeness now. Jungkook even helped Taeyong with Seulgi while he helped Yeri with her classes. It was a sweet scene to see. 

Jungkook’s parents were indifferent to her. She was expecting that considering she was normal. Jungkook tried his best to get his parents to like her but she stopped him. It wasn’t worth it. If he loved her that’s what matters. 

Y/N glanced at Jungkook and raised her eyebrow, “What?”

“I can’t admire you?” 

“No...gamer boy. You can’t.”

He leaned forward placing a kiss on her lips, “I’ll always admire you...my favorite masterpiece.” 

[satoruhour]

hello :) may i ask a husband nanami headcanons? your so talented!

a/n: ty anon !!! i hope u like this :3

warnings: (in second half of post) pregnancy kink? breeding / creampie kink ofc, consensual somnophilia, praise, pet names

i. sfw headcanons

nanami is so sweet when he first proposes to you! ofc you have sex on the daily or weekly but when he’s reading his speech to you when he’s kneeling down it’s so sweet that you cry

and this dude wonders why you’re tearing up when his words literally mirror a poet’s LMFAO

nanami proposes at a quiet place only the two of you frequent, to avoid unwanted attention like crowds (he’s just thinking about gojo and how annoying he would be)

but also because he just wants it to be as special as he can make it out to be

honestly, if the whole kuantan thing works out he would love to propose there while the waves and horizon set the scene naturally. like he already knew he wanted to retire from being a jujutsu sorcerer here but he just melts when you’re here too. everything wrapped up in one, and the tear-filled “yes!!!” makes him jump and warms his heart

has a dinner laid out for you and everything and if the beach is deserted he wouldn’t mind having u right there LOL hes quiet but freaky just sayin’ !!!

when you walk down the aisle he cries. really

and is now obsessed with how he can call you ”his wife” as opposed to “his girl” 

okay but now on to the domesticity. the dynamics are almost the same: he isn’t against you heading out to earn your own money, and he’s more than happy to be a stay-at-home husband if you want him to, but seeing you in your cute apron has him already thinking of family and how you would bounce the baby on your arm as you prepare dinner

nanami is more doting when he’s your husband, not that he wasn’t before, but he thinks it’s the old age when he sees your leg cramp and he massages it or when you squint at your book so he turns up your lamp to a higher setting

also likes to flaunt off his wedding ring, albeit with flushed cheeks. he does it when he drinks tea, sliding gojo his paper work, polishing his weapon and it’s silent, laidback bragging and only gets annoyed when gojo asks about it

if anyone else does it he’s happy to talk about you lol

is a lot more slack when it comes to his salary and treating you to things, saying things like “oh, it’s okay, my pretty wife deserves this”

nanami does his part of the housework now that you’re permanently living together and pulls his weight — buying cleaning supplies, folding the laundry, buying food for the dog

he doesn’t care much about gender roles and is willing to show you that a good husband shouldn’t just be a milestone to complete and then immediately refuses to participate in household work

deadbeat husbands = boooooo

for now you’re still busy as jujutsu sorcerers, but after a year or two of being married he’s trying to convince you to take less missions, partially because he’s afraid of curses taking advantage of your relationship (not that they didnt before, but now they have a leverage against you) and marriage to hold either of you hostage

but the main reason for the persuasion is because he wanted a kid. and you step back in shock because nanami kento? wanting a kid? it seemed so out of character for him but considering how much he liked to come in you… was already pretty telling

like he loved the dog but also wanted like. biological kids. it was wild, he knows, even when you tell gojo (he’s still a little mad that you did, but it was an accident), even the six-eyes user was pretty surprised.

when the kid comes he’s just. crying again. he really loves you so much, and the fact that you carried a baby for nine months and was in pain for 12 hours and then pushed a whole ass baby out ur vagina? goddamn

you two name her nanami kumiko and he holds her like she’s the only one in the world (besides you), cooing gently as how the baby seem to snuggle into his warmth

he gives her a danish name too: ida, but he’s not sure if he should include it in the birth certificate, so he didn’t

he is very protective of his girl, especially how you techniques seemed to be passed down and how the jujutsu society might be seeking out your offspring in kuantan, but he makes sure no one comes close to the two of you, even asking gojo reluctantly to monitor any news of the higher-ups looking to ruin her childhood

nanami really thinks it’s age now, because he find it so hard to say no to your baby girl whenever she asks for something — whether non-verbal or verbal

is a calm dad, usually burping the baby after you feed her, changing her diapers, etc., even suggesting bonding by holding her close with skin-to-skin contact and you're surprised he even knows about that

you give in when you see that he does it anyway, rocking the baby softly on the balcony with his top off, already knowing she’s going to be a daddy’s girl when she grows up

spoils his daughter but still disciplines her when it’s necessary, but he reverts to gentle parenting when he needs to. learns how to tie hair because of her, teaches her about manners and consent and tells her he has no problem if she decides to punch a guy one day. she’s just confused lol, why would i need to do that, dad?

bless him, she got your kind disposition, but yeah he emphasises that she should stand up for herself if needed

during pregnancy, he’s also making sure you never lift a finger, running across the house to complete errands, going out to buy your cravings and regulating your diet. it’s pretty cute but nanami is sometimes really strict about what you eat because he doesn’t want your health to decline lol

“just one cup of coffee… please?”

nanami only grunts in disapproval, hoping a peck to your forehead can wake you up, ”no.”

okay but that’s a lot, i have a lot of Thoughts

now…. 

ii. nsfw headcanons

building on that hc earlier abt going from calling you ”his girl” to ”his wife”, he uses it so much in the bedroom you’d think it was a fetish

and you kinda understand it, there’s the jump of your heart when he introduces you as “his wife” compared to a mere girlfriend

honest to god, coming home that day and seeing you cook wasn’t the first time he’s thought of having a kid. it’s happened many times before, seeing you interact with the first-years, guiding a first-grader home after a mission

and sure he’s done it before, but you’re always on the pill and he has really really thought of getting a vasectomy, but then he thinks of how cute you’d look with a round belly, carrying his baby and that glow that he knows he’s the reason for

so the day he proposes to you, he fucks you like an animal, cumming deep in you with choked groans and fills you up.

wedding night? same thing

but what really got him going was after he told you about wanting a kid, and you begging with those eyes of yours is what drove that string to snap. “i w-want you— shit— to fuck a baby into me, kento!” 

wheew and he goes insane. nanami loves it when you beg for his cum, legs locked around his body to get him to do it. you’re relentless too, spreading your folds for him as his cum seeps out slowly and soon he’s fucking his cum deep into you again, filling you up two, three, four times

and he doesn’t exactly care if that time doesn’t work because now he knows you aren’t taking contraception so he just does it regularly for good measure.

you aren’t complaining because you’ve never seen nanami so feral when he’s pushing his cum deep into you, whether it’s with his cock or with his fingers. that period before your pregnancy was so fulfilling that you wouldn’t mind pushing out another baby for your husband, if it meant getting railed by a man on a mission to make you a mommy

by god he fucks you on every surface of the house

when you’re pregnant too, you can’t help but get wet bc of your hormones and sometimes comes home from work, tired and needing some relief

he finds relief between your legs when you’re sleeping, talking about how nice it was to get used while sleeping, but you didn’t expect nanami to utilise it while you’re pregnant. you wince and groan as you sit up, but you need to see your husband lapping at your cunt immediately, moaning into your core like a starved man

but ofc nanami is a lot gentler when you’re pregnant. he offers to do the work, thrusts gentler and less impactful, but he still feels so good

a few years after marriage, sex is still an ongoing thing, but it’s converted more into love-making and lazy intercourse because you weren’t exactly young. sure you both would go crazy a few times a week but it was difficult with a maturing kid in the room next to yours.

you both would also take the time to discover other kinks!!! always busy, it was a difficult thing to do, but in between taking care of kumiko and handling lighter missions, you’d find new ways to continue keeping your love and sex life exciting

nanami liked going slow with you too though whispering into your ears endless praises of how you were doing do well, settling into missionary so he could see how his thrusts still had the same effect it did on you years ago

“doing so well, sweetheart. that’s it… my pretty wife’s such a good girl f’r me.” 

nanami wasn’t against a second child, but sometimes he sees how much you go through in labour and in pregnancy that he becomes lightheaded with what could happen to you, especially with the unexpected illnesses that come with pregnancies. he told himself he would only grant you another if you ask for it

but then one day when kumiko prances up to you in the midst of her math homework, asking when she would get a little sibling and youre taken aback while nanami just chokes on his tea

yeah, sure, you taught her sex education way before her peers and how babies are made but you didn’t expect to actually ask the two of you straight up about having a sister or brother

that night, you mulled over the decision, and nanami mumbles into your neck from the back, ”don’t worry about kumiko, baby. she’ll probably forget it sooner or later.”

“but what if i want to give her one though?” you mumble, your smaller hand guiding his lower and lower…

“do you want to?” nanami only can suck in a breath when he feels your throbbing cunt, your nimble fingers showing his how you liked your clit to be rubbed. even if he knows you inside out he still lets you do it, “i do… do you, kento?”

his first name is whispered, breaking the tension and nanami has to hold himself back from handling you too roughly, loving the way you grin languidly.

oh, here comes round 2!

omg headcanons are so fun lol i never wrote 1k words so fast since they’re informal and chill

[elizzsush]

Escape Reality | Part 0

PAIRINGS: Batfam X Reader (platonic), Jason Todd X Reader (romantic)

—Why did you choose to get a dog? And why did you choose to walk him before the beginning of a storm? Well… you can’t say you regret it.

AU/Trope: Isekai

Rating: SFW (as always)

❥ [Part 0] - [Part 1] (not yet out)

________________________________

A/Note: Heavily inspired by the amazing and incredible @daydreams-to-passages ! They wrote something I hadn’t even thought of which evolved into this fic! I really just expanded on their ideas so this is like 70% them! This is a little short but it's really just a prologue.

Oh, and lastly: if you know me IRL no you fucking don’t!

________________________________

When you got a dog… well, every dog owner knows the joys of walking their perfectly well behaved dog. It's sometimes the best thing in the world! If you were to pick up into a light jog, your puppies ears would flap up and down- his fur blowing back as a nice breeze and cool weather egg you on for more of that same old walking.

But no, when you got a dog… well let’s just say you weren’t prepared to actually own a dog. You had just moved to New York, into a shitty cramped apartment, and you were lonely and depressed and what’s a good fix for all that? Getting a dog! A larger then a corgi sized dog. Weighing in at around 50 pounds was your new pride and joy! Your new terror and the reason why you now stay up later thinking “why the hell did I get a dog when I can’t afford my own food?” You made a choice and now your life was unraveling around you because of said choice.

But… you also felt guilty. It wasn’t erm… “Fido”’s choice to live with you. So you’d buy his food before your own just to make sure you can afford his, and you’d try and take him on walks every single day. Because, that small crappy apartment is doing nothing for “Buddy”…?

So yes, walking a dog is so relaxing and fun! If you can afford to take the time or buy training classes where they teach him how to… walk on a leash.

BARK BARK BARK!!

“The pigeons are gone, dude!” You huff and tug him away from the side of the sidewalk- across you was the park, where a lovely old women was feeding birds. Keyword: was. You dog… “bear”, was so unstimulated and just badly behaved… it often left you so very embarrassed and put out. So even after “Baxter” started his walk on again- satisfied with his bird scaring talents, he still tugged forward because you were apparently too slow by his standards. So, walking “Max” was great! Amazing even. What wasn’t great was… well you had hoped you’d be home by now, you had read the weather was getting cloudier but hey- a little water never hurt anyone?

Except everyone on the titanic.

The worst part? The damn dog was loving every bit of the rain, he even sat his ass down to chop on the rain above him!! Everyday you were a little more convinced he hated you… just when things couldn’t have been worse, a stupid DUMB cat appeared! It ran right in front of you and “buster” into an alley!

Listen, you had calmed down on the leash tugging since the damn dog sat down- you didn’t expect a cat! So yes, Mr “Duke” got away from you… THE FUCKING DOG GOT AWAY FROM YOU. You gave chase after a cat and a dog… no you’ll totally win this race!

And if you couldn’t have been miserable enough, you hit a fucking brick wall…

But… hey wait, you could have sworn you dog and that cat went this way…

Your nose was bleeding, you had checked it with your hand… and now you were blacking out. Thunder struck and that was the last thing you saw…

Then you died, much like the second robin did.

Actually, he died pretty heroically and was murdered by a super villain. You ran into a wall.

You also didn't die.

"What the actual fuck." You whined as you sat up and held you head. Great, now you had a headache on top of this rain... You were in an alleyway still. Sadly, that didn't change since you passed out. But for some reason it felt... colder? The whole neighbor streets turned dark and cold you realized once you stood up walked around. Everything just looked duller, less color, it felt like an invisible fog laid across the streets. The rain picked up harder, like some God or deity was trying to wash the city away. The building had turned to cool greys and blacks with pops of graffiti in the long narrow alleys. "What the actual fuck?" You spun around to look at more of... where you supposedly lived, trying to figure out what just happened.

In the distance, you can hear erm... your dog barking. Panic swelled in your chest like an ugly bruise. Darting towards the sound you calmed down slightly when you saw your dog sat nicely staring at a man. A man who was eating a hot dog in the pouring rain...

"No can't have my chili dog," scolded a black-haired stranger as you finally see your beloved dog. Both of them were standing under something, protecting the male from the rain while your poor pouch was already a wet dog. Just when the stranger was about to cave to your dog's whims and argumentative barks you shouted out.

"Dog," You yelled out and the pup's ears perked up. still, you pup was still for once in his life and not causing... too much trouble. His attention was now on you, but he still didn't move away from the man with food.

This action- or lack of action made you sigh. Glancing around, you couldn't help but notice the complete lack of people nearby.

"Dog, what does it not got a man?" The man asked absentmindedly, like he was more talking to himself then he was to you. Thankfully you had just closed the gap between the two of you when he said it, so you didn't miss his words.

Admittedly, you didn't give your dog a name... Nothing seemed to stick out or fit. "No- His name is uh... Dog..." You tried to defend yourself against the- on second glance- attractive male.

"You named your dog... Dog?" He raised an eyebrow, and you shrunk in a little more on yourself.

"Erm... Yes?" You doubled down...

"Okay," He accepted it with a little blink, and you'll miss it eyeroll. "Does Dog know any tricks?" He asked as he finished his hotdog and knelt down to pet... Dog.

You blushed a bit because... You hadn't taught Dog any tricks yet. You had gotten him a months ago, so he was still a somewhat fresh face... "He knows sit." He knows the basics of sit; his success rate with that trick was 30%, this stranger didn't need to know that though.

The stranger hummed like he didn't believe you. He shouldn't have but you still felt offended.

Wait, this guy looked a lot like... It was the black hair with a little white streak in it really, it reminded you so strongly of the second robin even to his leather jacket.

"Are you cosplaying," came out of your mouth before you could even think about the words properly. With a hand now smacked onto your mouth you looked away from the man with a hint of humiliation at his confused expression. "I mean- You'd make a really good Jason." You corrected only to see the male give a more... curious look.

"Todd, from DC," You added, hoping to clear away his curiosity. "Jason todd..." You added more when you realized this was probably getting nowhere, and you weren't in a place mentally to describe the whole robin situation- nor would he probably care enough...

"DC? Do you mean WE?" The male corrected with a hint of a smirk, like he knew something you didn't. "He's that guy's son, right? Before he died."

You couldn't help but frown. "Well yeah- I mean he came back... Are we talking about the same thing?" You sighed, looking at you pup now. You should really just take him home- cut the walk short. Just when you thought of that however, the stranger seemed to find that perfect spot behind Dog's ear and he leaned more into the Ex-Robin look-a-likes hand,

"He came back?" The male questioned; you just shook your head. You had gotten into a DC rant one to many times to get into one now, in the middle of pouring rain. While you sighed to yourself about that, you missed his suspicious looked and the way he began to eye you...

"What's WE?" You asked instead.

That was when he looked at you as if you didn't know anything. "You don't know Wayne Enterprises?"

[222col]

meet me at the tennis court

pairing: art donaldson x reader ft. patrick zweig summary: art needs patrick's tennis coach, in more ways than just tennis. word count: 2.4k warnings: 18+!!!!, smut, dirty talk

Art never thought he'd be one for sabotage or betrayal, he never thought he'd need too, he was a good enough player on his own. He and Patrick had always been of a similar level, it was an even playing field before either of them went pro. Patrick got a head start, when Art went to Stanford. While Art did improve during college, Patrick had a dedicated coach, Art had to share a college level coach with the whole team, the playing field wasn't so level anymore. You starting coaching Patrick a year into his professional career, you'd met Art a few times when they'd practise together during spring or summer break, you knew he had potential. Art knew he needed one thing to beat Patrick, you.

It wasn't that he didn't want Patrick to succeed, he did, but he knew he needed you. As much as Art would never admit it out loud, he knew he had the talent to go further than Patrick, he just needed help. He'd watched you, how you worked with Patrick, your sternness, but kindness. You were exactly what he needed, for his career, but also his life. Once Art finished college, Patrick persuaded him to play in a doubles match with him, it wasn't high priority for Art, but he knew it meant time with you, so he agreed. Arriving at training, Art was nervous. Knowing this was his big chance to steal you away from Patrick, to join his team. Part of him felt bad, like a bad friend, but there was just something about you, that he craved.

"Alright, boys," You arrive to the court as the boys are warming up, tight tennis skirt and matching tank, carrying a crate of balls and a racket. Art mumbles a 'Christ' under his breath as you set the crate down and set up some cones. "Dude, I know, I don't know how I ever focus with her as my coach." Patrick responds. Art didn't think he was loud enough for him to hear, letting go of Patrick's hands, letting him drop to the floor. "You think she's hot?" Art questions, pulling his friend up from the floor. "Art, I'm not blind. I know she's hot, I spend nearly every day with her." Art shakes his head and picks up his racket. Patrick follows suit, holding out his hand in front of Art's mouth. Gum drops from his mouth to Patrick's hand. "Very romantic, can we maybe get on with training now?" Their heads snap towards you, both nodding as you wait, hands on hips.

Art wants to impress you, but he keeps missing shots, watching your skirt blow in the wind as you hit balls his way. "Get it together, Donaldson!" You shout, hitting another ball his way. He's focused now, but Patrick jumps in front of him to hit the ball back to your side of the court. "Nice to know one of you has your head screwed on, need to go back to college tennis, Art?" Your words sting, he's meant to be showing you that he's worthy of your time and attention, yet Patrick is out doing him, again. You throw a couple balls in his direction. "Let's see your serve." He picks up a ball, takes a breath and lines it up with the neck of his racket. He grunts as he hits the ball, it was one of his best. "Better." You smile to him. He has to stop the blush that creeps onto his cheeks. "Christ, all she did was smile at you, Donaldson." Patrick mocks, clearly noticing the redness on his cheeks. He's grateful you're moving cones and don't notice.

He improves throughout the rest of the session, not better than Patrick, but not missing any more shots. "Okay, boys, that should do us for today." They both drop their rackets, hair slick to their foreheads with sweat as you hand them both a bottle of water. "You have potential, Art, but you need to focus more." He shrugs in agreement as he drinks his water. "He's normally a lot more focused, wonder what got into you, Donaldson?" Patrick isn't slick, Art internally cusses him out. "Maybe I could do with a private session, if you have any spare time?" Art's almost smirking, Patrick definitely is. "Sure, Art," You say, packing away spare rackets. "I have a couple hours tomorrow before Patrick's solo session." His smirk turns to smile. "Great. See you then."

The two boys pick up their bags and head to the showers. Undressing and turning the water on, Patrick laughs. "What?" Art questions, turning on the shower next to his. "You're trying to fuck my coach." Art just shakes his head and starts washing himself. "You're not even denying it!" Patrick laughs, washing the shampoo out of his hair. "Maybe I just want some help." Art responds, letting the water wash the soap off of his skin. "Oh yeah, I'm sure you do." Patrick brings his fist to the side of his face and sticks his tongue to the inside of his cheek, imitating a blowjob. Art scoffs and continues showering. As much as yes, Art does want you in that way. He wants more, he wants all of you. Your body, your brain, your guidance.

Still nervous, but less so than yesterday, Art arrives for his private training session. You're already on the court, skirt looser than yesterday, the wind nearly exposes your ass as you bend over to pick up some extra balls. "Fuck me," Art mutters under his breath. He drops his bag next to you. "Jesus, Art, you nearly gave me a heart attack." You laugh, breath unsteady as you hold your chest. His mind is already wandering. He laughs too, "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Opening his bag to pick out a racket. You pick up a racket of your own, grabbing a few balls and telling Art to do the same. You both get into position on either side of the court. After a few rallies, you stop. "You seem a bit pent up, Art, what's bothering you?" You ask, walking towards the net. The sexual frustration he's feeling is one thing, the other being how to breach the subject of subtly betraying Patrick. "Patrick's other coach said this too, I'm not sure." Patrick doesn't have another coach, Art just needs to find a way for you to leave Patrick and focus all your time on him.

"Oh really? That's interesting. Maybe you need to channel your aggression on the court." You don't bite. Do you know he's lying? You take a sip of water. "I didn't know Patrick had another coach." There it is. You bite. "Yeah, for a few months now, I think." Art keeps lying, he should feel bad, but if it means you direct your energy to him. He'll do anything. "Interesting. I told Patrick when I first starting working with him that I prefer my clients to work solely with me." You take another sip. "You know, so secrets don't get shared. My work doesn't get undone, things of that nature." He's done it. He's got you questioning. Your brow furrows as you keep drinking. "That makes perfect sense. I was surprised when he told me, when I knew how brilliant you are- How brilliant you made him." He hopes you ignore his slip up. You don't. "How brilliant I am?" You smirk to him, placing your water on the bench, taking a step towards him. "Well, you're an extraordinary woman." He smiles. "Exactly what I'm looking for actually." You examine his face. "In a coach?"

His eyes deepen, the space between you closing. "Yeah, something like that." Your hands are on your hips, looking up at Art. He can feel your breath on his neck, swallowing deeply. Looking down at you, the loose fit tank not helping, due to the fact he has the perfect angle to see your cleavage. "Something like that?" You repeat his words back to him. "Mhm." is all he can muster in response, his breath hitching. "You want me to coach you, guide you, tell you what to do?" You lean up to him, you lips mere inches from his now. "I definitely want you to tell me what to do." His confidence is back. Smirking down at you. "In tennis?" You question, playing dumb. "In tennis, in life, in bed..." He trails off, faking innocence. "Kiss me then." You barely finish your sentence before his lips are on yours. You can feel his hunger on his lips, his hands searching all over your body as yours tangle themselves in his hair. He finds his way underneath your skirt, caressing the lace and bare skin beneath it. You smile into his kiss, cocky bastard, you think, kissing you like this with his hands on your ass in the middle of the tennis court. Anyone could walk out onto the court, any minute, Patrick could easily arrive early and find the two of you together like this. The thought only turns you on further, Art must feel it in the kiss as his hand snakes around your body and into your underwear.

Gasping and gripping his body tighter as his fingers stroke the length of your folds, your legs almost buckle as he grabs hold of you tighter. Giggling to himself as he watches you come undone. His finger slips inside of you as his lips find their way back to yours. His kiss can barely capture the sound of your moans as he slips another finger inside. "Shut the fuck up," He whispers in your ear, covering your mouth with his hand. "Or do you want someone to catch us with my hand under your skirt?" His grin is evil, he's loving this, watching your eyes turn darker the further he pushes his fingers inside of you. He removes his hand from your face, returning to it's place on your ass. "I don't remember me saying you could tell me what to do, Donaldson." Your voice is shaky, breathing heavy as you hold your moans in the best you can. He raises his eyebrow, removing his fingers from inside you as you pout. "Do you want me to stop?" He asks, his fingers teasing your clit, so gently you can barely feel it. "N-no," you muster, his fingers re-enter. "Stop acting like you're in control right now then." His order hits you like a slap across the face, your knees go weak. You didn't think he had it in him. All you can do is nod your head as he picks up the pace. His thumb now drawing circles on your clit, your eyes close as your head flings back. You bite your lip to stop your moaning, Art's lips attacking your neck, definitely leaving small bruises as he goes. "Good girl." You can't stop the groan that falls from your lips this time. Art chuckles, loving the control he has over you in this moment.

"I thought I told you to shut the fuck up, or do you not want to come today?" Your head swings back to face him. "I'll be quiet, I promise, fuck- Art, please let me come," He rewards you with a kiss, you use it to your advantage and let your moans escape into his mouth. You're getting close and he knows it. You've began to shake, your grip on his biceps getting stronger as your nails dig into the skin. He's revelling in the fact you're leaving marks on him. He's getting exactly what he wants, you. "Come for me, baby," His whisper pushes you over the edge, nearly falling to your knees as you finish on his hand, he instinctively holds your body up as you bite down on to his shoulder to keep yourself quiet. He can feel that through his shirt, he'll be left with a bite mark. A groan leaves his own lips at the thought. "So, you'll be my coach then?" He asks, cheekily as you ride out your high. "Fuck, Art, I'll be whatever you want me to be if you keep doing that." He chuckles, pulling out his fingers, immediately bringing them to his lips. He inserts them both to his mouth, licking every drop of you from his fingers. He licks them clean and leans down to kiss you. He giggles into the kiss and smacks your ass playfully. "Hit the showers, Donaldson. I've got to get ready to fire my client, looks like you'll be my priority from now on." He picks up his bag, winking at you as he leaves the court.

Entering the showers, he finds Patrick. He claps slowly, "What a show, Donaldson." Art's cheeks flash red. "Really, I didn't think you had that in you." Art's head drops, thinking whether to deny the whole thing, until he sees the tent in his trousers. Patrick just laughs, patting him on the back. "It's nice to know that I'm finally rubbing off on you." Art's laughing too now, turning on the shower and undressing. "Fuck off," He retorts, stepping under the cold water. He winces as the water hits the fresh marks you've left on his body. Patrick inspects the reason for his wince, noticing the bite mark on his shoulder. "Is it weird to say that's hot?" Patrick smirks, brushing his fingers over the mark. Art shakes his head and pushes his hand off his shoulder.

"You might wanna start looking for a new coach." Art states, washing his face. "Why? You wanna make sure I don't make a move on the girl you're fucking?" Patrick smirks, as Art turns to face him. "She's my coach, as well as the girl I'm fucking, actually," Art can't even attempt to hide his smile as he continues showering. "You little snake!" Patrick laughs as he slaps Art's boner, he groans in pain. "Will you still be my doubles partner?" Patrick asks, picking up his bag, ready to head to the court. Art laughs, "Of course," turning back to his shower. "Don't tell her you saw anything, oh, and if she asks you've had another coach the past few months." Patrick leans around and hits Art on the balls. "You really are a fucking snake, Art!" Patrick laughs and jokingly kisses his cheek. "It's exciting seeing you like this, I hope she gets you to apply it to your tennis, then maybe you'll finally beat me."

[cupidcures]

When Tulips Kiss | Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

CHAPTERS: 𝜗𝜚 TWENTY-SEVEN | TWENTY-EIGHT | 𝜗𝜚 TWENTY-NINE

WORD COUNT: 4.3k (not proofread)

CONTAINS: talks about sex (they don’t actually have sex haha.. this is my sfw blog not my nsfw blog), profanity, a little violence

nothing has changed

“Ayen I’m nervous as fuck dude,” Hyunjin whispered nervously and wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans.

Ew.

“You’ll be fine! Just be yourself, you’ve got this.” Ayen encouraged from the other side of the phone, “Don’t worry, or else you’ll be tense and awkward, you’ll do great. I gotta go now, I’m still on live. Good luck dude!” And with that, Hyunjin’s phone beeped a few times before turning off, leaving him to just sigh and shove it into his pocket.

Exiting the vehicle, he sits on the hood of his car and waits for you to come out from the building, and soon enough, you do.

There you were, stepping outside in all your glory. You were stunning, he would be a fool to ever deny you of that fact.

“Hey, you look beautiful.” Hyunjin greeted you and hopped off the hood, approaching your figure with a small smile plastered on his face.

“Thank you, Hyunjin.” You smiled back at the boy as he walked you to your side of the car, not letting you lift a single finger and doing everything for you.

“I was thinking of bringing you to one of my favorite bakeries, it belongs to my friend, too.” He mentioned and got into his seat, turning the engine of the car on and reversing to pull out of the parking spot.

“Really? Which friend is it?” You questioned in curiosity. “Do I know them?”

“Yeah, you do. It’s Felix! He runs a bakery-library fusion with his sister and they’re both insanely talented. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up making chains so there’s more than one location to their bakery.” Hyunjin praised them and leaned back in his seat, one hand placed on the steering wheel and the other rested on the middle armrest.

“Thanks for agreeing to hang out with me today, by the way. It was last minute too.” He laughed tensely, but all you did was shake your head.

“Oh, it’s nothing! I’d take any chance I get to leave my dorm, to be honest. I try my best to not be as much of a homebody as I was before. I’d like to think that I’m improving!” You grinned proudly and thought back to the days when you would reject every outing to go out because you didn’t want to leave the comfort of your own home. You shuddered.

No wonder why you were so prone to gloominess back then.

“Yeah, you are. I’m proud. You used to hate going out on consecutive days and now you do it almost every day.”

“I was so boring back then.”

“Don’t say that, you were perfect. You still are.” Hyunjin coughed and cleared his throat awkwardly as you blushed at his statement.

If somebody asked you three weeks ago if you would ever see yourself hanging out one-on-one with Hyunjin ever again, you would have laughed it off and pretended to throw up, but here you were. Reminiscing with someone who made your heart crumble into pieces back in high school. How funny.

You don’t do anything to stop your friendship from growing, though. You’ve come to accept that it was going to happen sooner or later. You just wish that you knew what was going on in his mind when the two of you broke up, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be something you know about any time soon, so you forced yourself to push those thoughts away and just focus on building new memories rather than focusing on the past.

Forgive and forget, right? You didn’t even know what to forgive him for.

“Hyunjin.”

“Yeah?”

“Why did we break up?”

Silence.

You looked over your shoulder to look at him, but all there was, was a distant expression on his face. He chewed on his lip before exhaling quietly.

“You know why we broke up.”

“No, I want to know what YOU think is the reason why we broke up.” You corrected yourself to clarify it for him, as he stole a glance from you for a moment before his eyes glued back onto the road.

“Okay. I’ll tell you in the bakery, just not while we’re still on the road, okay?” He spoke quietly and you nodded.

Your heartbeat picked up its pace, blood rushing all throughout your body. You felt hot. Nervous. You were finally about to figure out Hyunjin’s side of the story after years of being oblivious to it.

Maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.

Hyunjin hadn’t expected to have given into you so easily. Yet, he did. He made up his mind at that moment and told himself he was going to tell you everything today.

He has spent the last few weeks mentally preparing himself for this conversation, and he expected to have everything he thought happened in the past, disproved by you.

He was ready to swallow his pride and apologize for misunderstanding everything, and he was even ready to ask for another chance. Beg you, if he had to.

“Have you dated anyone else since we broke up?” Hyunjin questioned in curiosity as you stopped to think about it.

“Mmm… I have. It was never an official relationship though.” You decided to mention it just so it wouldn’t cause any problems if it were brought up in the future. “How about you? Have you dated anybody? And no, hooking up doesn’t count.”

Hyunjin chuckled at what you said before then shook his head. “Nah, I haven’t dated anyone. It was only flings and hook-ups. You know, the usual fuckboy shit.” He shrugged indifferently.

“You fucking sex addict!”

“Hey, you enjoyed it when we were together though.”

“Ew shut up.”

“Yes ma’am!”

The two of you bickered jokingly before bursting out into laughter. The atmosphere inside the car was light and the tension that once took its place between you two had faded away. You had almost forgotten how fun it was to be around Hyunjin, so you were glad that you were able to experience this side of him again.

No facades.

“And here we are! Tadaa! Young Books Bakery!” Hyunjin spoke in a sing-songy tone, parking his car right in front of his friend’s business.

“Young Books Bakery?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the wordplay, “How clever.”

“Thanks, I helped him with it.” He grinned at you and turned his key to turn the car off before taking it out.

“Of course you did, it’s so corny.”

“Hey! That’s not very nice.” Hyunjin pouted and got out of the car to help you on the other side.

Opening your car for you, he teases, “Hurry up shortie,” and you raise an eyebrow at him in response, stepping out of the car while he closes it behind you.

“Oh so now we’re lying?” You crossed your arms at him and stuck your tongue out.

“I’m not lying. You’re short to me.” He smirked at you and poked your cheek before dragging you along to enter Felix’s bakery.

As soon as Hyunjin opened the door for you, the sweet aroma of all the baked goods filled your nostrils and you could feel your mouth watering in response.

“Holy shit! It smells like heaven in here!” You exclaimed giddily as you walked in like a kid in a candy store, Hyunjin following close behind with fond eyes.

“Y/N!! Hyunjin!! Hey guys welcome in!” A deep voice spoke from behind one of the bookshelves as he peeked his head out, revealing himself with a toothy smile.

“Felix hi!!! This place looks amazing!” You clapped as you admired your surroundings and the decor around the room.

The place was warm and cozy, furnished with soft sofas, bean bags, hammock chairs, and a lot of pillows. A LOT.

Bookshelves covered the walls from the floor to the ceiling and there was always a splash of color, no matter where you looked. The cashier counter was located in the very back of the place, with a few of the baked goods on display for everybody to see. There was soft and quiet music playing in the background, but it was so subtle that you were barely able to notice it. The place was lively, and honestly, you could see yourself coming here much more often.

“Thank you! You can go ahead and look around, just let me know when you want to order anything from the bakery! Or you could just chill here too, I don’t mind!” Felix encouraged you to explore the place more before going back to organizing the bookshelf he was working on.

“Go ahead, I’ll come back to you but I gotta talk to Felix real quick, okay? It won’t take long, I promise.” Hyunjin patted your head before ushering you off and walking towards Felix.

“Hey, bro.”

“Hey, Hyunjinnnnie~ Taking Y/N out on a date I see? We’re so proud!” Felix smirked and nudged his side, gaining a groan from the taller boy.

“My fucking palms are sweating bro. I told her I was going to tell her my side of the story in here.” Hyunjin whispered as the other boy chuckled.

“You ARE gonna go through with it, aren’t you? You can’t just say you’re gonna do something and NOT do it, y’know?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m doing it. I just hope she won’t judge me for being insecure in the past. I’ve obviously thought about it a lot in the past four years, and I never actually saw her cheat. I just… assumed. I was scared and threatened by the guy she was talking to. I’ve never seen her so close with another guy that it broke something in me.” Hyunjin sighed and ruffled his hair back as Felix shook his head.

“She wouldn’t. You know she wouldn’t, just trust her AND trust yourself.“

“Thanks Felix, I knew I could talk to you. Now wish me luck.”

Walking away from him, he made his way to you, who was indulged in a book that you picked out. You decided to sit on one of the beanbags, and your entire body was sunken into the cushion.

Hyunjin admired how you looked so comfortable and cute, even if you were practically doing nothing.

“Hey I’m back, did you wanna eat anything? I’ll pay.” He offered and took a seat on the beanbag next to yours, the soft cushion molding to his figure.

“I’m not really hungry right now, but thank you for asking anyway!” You declined the offer but put the book down on the coffee table in front of you to face towards him.

“Soooo?”

“So what?”

“Your side of the story, silly. You can start wherever you’d like, I’m all ears!” You flashed him a smile and he returned one to you nervously.

This was REALLY happening.

“Well okay. I was hoping you’d forget about it.” He playfully teased and you giggled, rolling your eyes.

Urging him to continue with your hand movements, he opens his mouth to finally get the burden off of his chest, only to be interrupted by the chimes above the entrance door.

Hyunjin’s eyes break contact with yours as his pupils travel to the person to just entered, his back straightening and his face morphing into one of discomfort.

“Hyunjin?” You tapped his shoulder in concern as he managed to stutter out, “I uh.. Sorry for getting distracted..” He mumbles and presses his lips together, forming a thin line.

His actions made you confused. Who walked in to get him so tense? You turned around to see who it was, and to your surprise, it was Beomgyu who walked in with another guy beside him. He looks familiar.

They weren’t looking in your direction yet as they hadn’t noticed that you were there, so you turned back around and placed your hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder, offering a reassuring smile.

Successfully grabbing his attention, he looks back down to your face and smiles as best as he can, even if it is strained. His eyes flicker back up, and unfortunately for him, he makes eye contact with the pair that had just walked in.

Fuck.

“No way. Is that THE Hwang Hyunjin from high school?” A voice, tinted with disdain, broke the tension in the air, but at the same time, it felt as if the tension was at an all-time high right now. You didn’t recognize the voice immediately, but you felt it in your gut that you knew him, or at least had met him before.

You decided it was best to keep your identity hidden and not turn back around to look at them.

Hyunjin’s hand took its place on your waist as his grip tightened protectively. Eyes narrowing at the guy, Hyunjin ignored him and put his attention back onto you.

“Anyway, as I was saying.” His eyes rolled so far he could swear he was almost able to see the back of his head.

“Yo, it’s rude to ignore people y’know? Oh wait, I totally forgot you don’t care about whether you’re rude or not.” The unknown boy remarked as you heard footsteps approaching close behind you.

“Y/N?” It was Beomgyu that spoke just now, and not his friend. You had nothing against him and you didn’t want to be disrespectful, so you hesitantly looked behind you to greet him.

“Hey Gyu..!” You laughed awkwardly as the boy next to him gasped.

“Y/N! It’s been a while! Remember me?” The tone his friend chose to talk to you with was drastically different compared to the tone he chose to talk to Hyunjin with, and it confused you a bit. Your eyes landed on the familiar boy’s face as you studied his features a little longer before your eyes widened.

“Heeseung?”

“So you do remember me! It’s nice to see you again.“ Heeseung smiled at you and you smiled back, anger bubbling in Hyunjin’s stomach at the exchange.

Why did you smile at him?

“One question though, what the fuck are you doing with this jackass again? You’re better than that.” Heeseung pointed at Hyunjin who scoffed at his remark.

“Oh, I’m the jackass?” He stood up from beside you, “That’s real funny coming from you.”

“And you’re still not making any sense years later. What the fuck are you on dude? I did nothing to you and yet you did the most to me.” Heeseung snarled and pushed him back threateningly.

You and Beomgyu looked at each other in concern. While Beomgyu hated Hyunjin, he didn’t think it was worth getting into a fight with him. Violence was always a last resort to him, and that was something you both had in common.

“Heeseung we should go, let’s not cause a scene. It was good to see you Y/N.” Beomgyu grabbed his friend’s arm to pull him back as you stood up with Hyunjin and tugged his arm as well.

“Let’s sit back down, yeah? Ignore it.” You attempted to calm him down, but it was easy to tell—even from a mile away—that he was still pissed.

“Y/N, you should leave with us too. This guy is crazy.” Heeseung laughed as Beomgyu elbowed his ribs to get him to stop.

“Stop it, man.”

“What? I’m telling the truth. The motherf-“

Before he even got to finish his sentence, a strong blow to the face put him on the floor, rubbing his jaw.

Hyunjin rolled up his sleeves and approached Heeseung as you panicked and tried to hold him back, only to be shoved back down onto the beanbag.

“Fuck is wrong with you? First, you beat the living shit outta me in high school with no explanation and leave Y/N heartbroken. Now that I’m trying to protect her from getting her heart broken again, you wanna punch me?! You’re fucking mental.” Heeseung spat out and glared.

Beomgyu was quick to go to your side and check if you were okay, and thankfully you were. It wasn’t a hard shove that Hyunjin gave you. In fact, it was really gentle, and you just happened to lose your balance and fall. But it still made Hyunjin look bad.

Heeseung’s words lingered in your mind.

Hyunjin beat him up in high school?? I thought they were friends?

You decided to shrug it off for right now and focused on getting him to leave Heeseung alone. That was a topic to talk about on another day.

“Hyunjin stop, let’s just go.” You spoke up, wanting to de-escalate the situation as much as possible, but it came to no avail.

“Listen to Y/N, it’s the least you can do for not doing it years back. Asshole.” Heeseung mocked as another hit landed on his face. And another, and another.

Beomgyu pulled you back from Hyunjin to prevent any hits from accidentally landing on you, the two of you wincing with each punch thrown at Heeseung.

You couldn’t watch this anymore and you grabbed your phone to call Felix, and he immediately picks the call up.

“Hey Y/N—“ “Please come! Hyunjin is beating the fuck out of Heeseung!” “..What? Shit, okay I’m coming.”

The call ended and you were able to hear rapid footsteps coming from the back as Felix quickly rushed to the scene from the storage room, pulling Hyunjin off harshly and throwing him on the ground.

“Bro what the fuck??” Felix furrowed his eyebrows talking to his friend, looking back and forth from him to Heeseung. Hyunjin stayed quiet but his eyes fixated on you.

You made eye contact with him and frowned, shaking your head in disappointment.

Ouch.

Felix watched Hyunjin watch you to check if Heeseung was okay before sighing.

Felix knew of what he thought Heeseung did, so he couldn’t be fully mad at him for beating up. That, and because they’re best friends. Beating him up to this extent, though? It was uncalled for. He didn’t blame you for checking up on him instead of Hyunjin, but he was well aware of what this would make Hyunjin think, and it wasn’t any good.

So much for progress…

“Are you fucking serious Y/N? You’re worried about this fucker rather than me? I was right all along. You’re still the same two-faced bitch from before.” Hyunjin cursed at you, pushing back his tears, and you looked back with a mix of confusion and hurt on your face.

“Are YOU serious, Hyunjin? I don’t know what you’re on, but do I need to remind you that YOU beat Heeseung up?? He’s fucking bleeding and I’m sure as hell confident he’s gonna be bruised! Of course I’m worried about him when he didn’t even hit you ONCE!” You were baffled and hurt by his outburst, so you looked away and tended to Heeseung’s wounds instead, not wanting to even look at him.

“I always knew you two had something going on. All you did was prove me right.” Hyunjin muttered quietly under his breath. He got up and dusted himself off, heading towards the exit whilst ignoring Felix’s pleas to stay and explain everything to you instead of leaving.

“Find your own way back home. You clearly don’t need any explanation. You can forget about us being friends, too. You haven’t changed at all.” And with that, Hyunjin left.

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you blinked them away so it made it look like you were unbothered.

“I’ll get the first aid kit from the back.” Felix rubbed your back before standing up to fetch some ointment and bandages.

“What were you doing with him?” Heeseung questioned as you dabbed his bleeding lip with his shirt.

“He was going to explain his side of the story of what happened in high school since we were on good terms again. I’m sorry, I don’t know why he did this. I didn’t even know he did it before.” You sighed sadly as he shook his head.

“It’s not your fault, he’s an ass. He just started hating me for no damn reason.” Heeseung laughed a little and sat up straight, fixing his posture.

“You look really pretty today. Say, after we clean him up, let’s all hang out! Let’s invite Ayen too! It’d be a waste to go back home after wearing a stunning outfit.” Beomgyu tried to brighten the mood, and it worked out as you giggled and Heeseung nodded.

“I didn’t know you knew Heeseung, how come you never mentioned it? He was the other person in the trio that me and Ayen are in.” He asked you with curious eyes.

“Ah, we weren’t that close! We talked like maybe once or twice outside of class, and that’s pretty much it. Excluding a partner project we had to do together.” You explained as Beomgyu hummed in acknowledgment.

“I’m back with the kit!”

“Thank you, Lix!”

“No problem Y/Nnie! Sorry about Hyunjin, I’ll make sure to talk to him.”

“Thanks, Felix. Okay, I’ll add you to the group chat and you text Ayen that we’ll pick him up.” Beomgyu took out his phone to add you to the group, and you took yours out as well.

~

“He WHAT?!” Jeongin spat his drink out in the car.

The four of you were driving somewhere without a destination in mind, and you had just finished telling Jeongin everything that went down, making sure not to miss any important details.

“Watch the seats! But yeah, your friend is insane dude. Tell him to watch it and stop getting into fights.” Beomgyu sighed as Jeongin facepalmed, Hyunjin’s fucking everything up. He thought to himself.

“Yeah, not only did he beat me up, I heard him call our sweet Y/N the word that rhymes with pitch,” Heeseung added on, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him avoiding saying bitch out of respect.

“What the fuck??? Man, I don’t know what’s up with him. No wonder why he was in a bad mood when he got home.”

“Yeah well, It’s whatever. What matters now is that we have fun together!” You changed the topic and cheered, as the three other boys in the car joined you in the cheering.

~

The loud knocking came from the other side of Hyunjin’s bedroom door, and he couldn’t help but hope it was you coming back for him, but he knew that wasn’t the usual way you would knock. So he kept his head buried in his pillow.

“Come in.”

He heard the door creak open and close, the person sitting down on his desk next to the bed.

“Care to explain what the fuck happened?” Jeongin had a hint of irritation in his voice, and Hyunjin was able to detect it. Sighing, he rolls over to lie on his back and stares up at the ceiling.

“She chose Heeseung over me. Like before.” His voice cracked as he sniffled, nose red.

Jeongin stared at the boy’s face, noticing his red and puffy eyes.

“You’re so stupid. You beat Heeseung up and he didn’t fight back. Didn’t even attempt to. Of course she would check up on him instead of you.” Jeongin scolded and folded his arms over his chest. “Is he the guy you think she cheated on you with?”

“I don’t think she cheated, I KNOW she cheated.”

“Shut up, no you don’t. You don’t know she cheated because she DIDN’T, stop fucking accusing her of it when you don’t know her side of the story.” Jeongin defended you in a heartbeat, gradually getting more and more annoyed.

“You don’t know my side either!” Hyunjin exclaimed and glared at the boy next to him.

“I don’t need to, I’m smart enough to put two and two together, and you couldn’t be any more wrong.” Jeongin’s volume increased the more he talked. “You hurt two of my closest friends in one day. One physically and one emotionally. I was willing to help you figure all this shit out because you’re also one of my close friends, but I fucking refuse to let you hurt them, not for the third time. You’ve already hurt them in the past, and you’ve done it again today in the same way you did it before. The same two people that have done NOTHING to you. All because you can’t communicate your thoughts and feelings, people are getting hurt. And so are you, Hyunjin.” Jeongin was yelling at this point, and he was sure he caught the attention of everybody else under the same roof, or maybe even the neighbors.

“Don’t ever call my best friend a two-faced bitch ever again, I mean it. You’re out here telling Y/N that she hasn’t changed, but have you ever stopped to look in the fucking mirror? Or, I don’t know, step back and see that maybe, JUST MAYBE, she hasn’t changed because she hasn’t done anything wrong in the first place? Don’t expect me to help you with the shit you have going on anymore. You really fucked it up this time.” Jeongin got up from the desk and opened Hyunjin’s bedroom door, only to find Felix, Changbin, Minho, and Chan all listening in.

They all, except Felix, looked at him with a questioning look, one that asked ‘What the hell happened?’ But Jeongin did nothing but shrug it off.

“Ask the crying piece of shit over there. I’m staying over at Han’s place for a while. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

a/n: this one’s a little short guys I APOLOGIZE. also, yes i know ayen, gyu, and heeseung are 01 liners but i changed their ages to be 03 liners instead to match the storyline better😋

𝜗𝜚 WTK series masterlist

TAGLIST (OPEN)! @jeonginplsholdmyhand @jeonginsgirl @mlrroh @mafiulaputaama @seungzsmin @hannie-bees @skz1lov @porang-poranglinos @sillyhal @mitchii @soulphoenix1618 @gnab-nahc @hyunjins-dimples @nappynapnaps @15092000volcano @livixcore @linocvp1d @yaorzu-blog @scallywag1299 @boo-ven9eance @lys4lix @kirbrary @4ln-stay8 @sellomaybe @aznstoner @saintcosette @starseungs @syedazarintasnim @elqivxstxr @ivydoesit23 @weirdowithaphone @hyuneee3 @nhyunn @velvetmoonlght @amarecerasus @skzstan12345 @ravengxbss @sweetbokji

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Mango Bat; Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay, so not an alien, just like, I dunno, a second-gen immigrant,” Bernard says, and Kon blinks at him a couple of times and is sort of, like, low-key fascinated by the dude’s brain for a moment. That is like, practically Bart-levels of “random shit that only makes sense in your own head”, but much better-translated for the outside people. “. . . this is not my fault, okay, you’re way too hot for me to make sense and act like a normal person in front of. Also we’re in Gotham and you have to understand that skews the ‘normal’ scale so much, okay?” 

“It’s fine, dude, I’ve heard way weirder,” Kon replies, kinda amused because Bernard’s wincing kinda awkwardly and doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands anymore, and then just smirks a bit and leans in to nip at the other’s lower lip. Why not, right? “It’s just kinda funny ‘cuz the awkward rambling thing makes you look stupid cute.” 

“Jesus,” Bernard mutters very feelingly, then grabs his face again and kisses him back hard. Kon purrs into it and pins him down heavier against the mattress again and gets a breathy little groan out of Bernard for it, plus a handful of very decided clicks from Tim’s camera. Kon is, like, very used to making himself look good for a camera, even now, and it’s not hard at all to make the stretch and display of his body pressing down against Bernard’s into something natural and easy-looking for the camera lens. It is natural, because it’s something he’s been doing since the day he was fucking decanted, and also it’s not like he didn’t get all that media training from Rex and even a bit from Cadmus’s original uploads and also in bits and pieces a dozen other places and counting. And if nothing else, the photogenic thing very literally paid the bills for a while in there. 

Doing it for Tim feels different, though. Showing off for Tim, displaying himself, framing Bernard just right with his body the same way he got taught to frame whatever pretty girl they threw him on-set with–

Except it’s not like being on a shoot or a set or anything like that. Not like doing some boring ad or magazine shoot with a photographer who isn’t interested in him as a person, just a paycheck, not like doing a thousand takes of some brain-dead commercial for some lame, useless product he doesn’t give a shit about, and not like Rex trying to get him to take “candid” pics for social media shit or anything like that, or even just some random civilian who just wants a selfie or anything like that. 

Which, like–most of those photos don’t even exist anymore. Just about all of them don’t, in fact. 

Kon’s good at being photographed–one of the few things he was always good at, that always came natural and that he learned inside and out and just had an actual talent for–but that doesn’t actually matter anymore because everything he got good at it for doesn’t even exist now. Isn’t even remembered, mostly. 

But–Tim likes to take pictures. He’s always liked to take pictures. And right now, Tim wants to take pictures of him. Ones he maybe really does wanna keep, even. 

That’s–that’s a thing that Kon’s thinking about, right now.

[sniigura-archive]

Thinking about a 3-way with Adam and Lucifer where Lucifer brags about all the Amazing Sex Tricks(tm) he knows and how he'll be so good you'll rethink your relationship with Adam...but in the end Lucifer can't make you cum no matter what he does, and then Adam make you cum super easily. Lucifer gets haunted by that for the rest of his life. XD

WAITTTTTT…..this opened up my third eye i had to write this. ur onto smth anon…….

cw/tw/tags: threesome, mention of alcohol but everyone can consent, voyerourism, fingering, clit rubbing, oral (m and f receiving), p in v sex

You didn’t think Adam would ever allow this, or be into it. It’s probably more of an ego thing, than anything else. For the both of them.

Maybe it’s the few drinks Adam had, that made him take more risks. But fact is Adam is the opposite of a light weight and it takes more than 2 shitty beers and half of a cocktail you didn’t like for him to be even tipsy.

With your legs spread open, your back leaning against Adam’s chest and Lucifer between your legs, you could only pray that you wouldn’t regret this. If Adam wouldn’t have agreed, you would have probably just flipped Lucifer off.

Fuck, even with Adam agreeing it felt more like a test. Which is why you first said no, and Adam assured you it would be okay. Man, you’re a sucker.

Well, now you’re here, with Lucifer between your legs, after all of his bragging of how he’s better than Adam. Hopefully he lives up to his words? Or, well hopefully he’s at least decent so this whole fiasco is worth it. Adam kissed the side of your head, massaging your breast and tugging at your nipples. His already hard dick was pressing against your lower back. Hopefully he will fuck you good tonight.

You nearly forgot Lucifer was even there, but of course he had to put the attention back to him.

Lucifer lifted the hood from your clit and put his dry finger on it, applying far too much pressure and starting immediately a fast pace of rubbing. It was overstimulating, in a bad way. It was near painful, it felt like he was trying to rub your clit sore. Yikes. At least he wasn’t rubbing your left lip and asking you how good it feels? Nevermind, you prefer the lip rubbing because you were going to die if something happens to your clit.

Your hips jolted away from Lucifer, and you pressed your lips in a tight line, trying to keep yourself from swearing at Lucifer. In a bad way. Looking nervously to Adam up, even he looked not quite impressed. Well, it’s because he knows your body, nearly as well as his own body. His brows were furrowed and his fingers twitched around your tits, ready to throw Lucifer out.

“Ouch! Dude, you want to give my clit a fucking friction burn? And now you scratch it with your long ass nails? Jesus….” You sternly told Lucifer, putting your foot on his shoulder and pushing him away.

You pinched your nose bridge, while Lucifer looked up at you with big, surprised eyes. He’s the personification of a kicked puppy right now. You felt Adam shift behind you, laughing at your words.

“Yeah, right sorry, let me, uh, let me do something…else?” It was more of a question than anything, where did his confidence go?

Lucifer whipped his hand on the sheets, a nervous gesture. Your patience was running thin. Shit, Adam spoils you too much, you can’t take bad sex anymore. He better never leave, or let you at least make a dildo of his dick. That’d be great. Lucifer grasped your thighs into his hand and lowered his face towards your pussy. He licked a strip up your weeping cunt, and wrapped his lips around your clit.

Your eye lids fluttered shut, good to know he can do one thing right at least. Sadly, he was only unusually talented for a moment, before he ruined it again. How he did it this time? Having weirdly sharp and big canines isn’t good for eating pussy. Especially when biting down hard at your clit, not sexy at all. His tongue game was good, but that just ruined your whole mood.

Grasping his blond hair strands in your hand you forcefully tugged him off of you, while wincing in pain. You’ve had enough. No more threesomes.

“Fucking hell, I thought you were going to make my bitch reconsider being with me? I think you’re making her run straight towards my dick.” Adam rubbed his stubbly chin with a grin. This is going way better than he thought it would, “Wanna see how hot she looks when she cums?”

Adam turned you around, so now you were facing him. What a handsome face he has. He crashed his lips into yours, licking the inside of your mouth. His hands were rummaging all across your body, seemingly rubbing away the touch of another. His thick fingers found your semi wet pussy, he licked his thumb before he started massaging gentle circles on your most sensitive body part.

With his other hand he started to slowly enter a thick finger into your throbbing pussy. You were already panting, Adam knew you too well maybe. If he tried hard enough, and you were in the mood, he could probably make you cum in 60 seconds and under. It’s not something you would ever share with Adam though, his ego was too big already.

“Lay down ‘n relax, baby.” Adams voice was gentle, but still commanding. It’s hard to refuse him.

Laying back down, you looked up at Lucifer, who was kneeling down besides your head. His eyes were fully focused on your face. Sometimes they flicked towards Adam, who was working on opening you up.

Once Adam was a sure you were stretched out enough, he flipped you over so you were now in a puppy pose. He moved one of your hands towards your clit, “Touch ya yourself for me, babe. So I can blow your fucking back out in peace. Maybe you can show the loser how much better you’re with your tongue than him.” He chuckled at his own words, while lining up his dick with your entrance.

At the mention of you sucking off Lucifer, he excitedly scrambled to get infront of your face. His dick was pale and his tip near apple red. Jesus, he was slightly bigger than Adam. But you already thought Adam was too big, so this wasn’t something that turned you terribly on. You’re thinking of ordering cock rings for Adam, to stop him from bruising your cervix constantly. You wrapped your fingers around Lucifers huge cock. He hissed at the feeling. So he’s sensitive? That’s good, you can make him cum fast thanks to that.

Adam bullied his dick into your tight hole, causing you to whine from the pressure, your fingers found your clit and you rubbed yourself in your usual motions. You won’t last long with Adam having his twitching, leaking dick buried inside you. Adam started up a gentle rhythm, easing more and more of himself into you. Man, you’re living the dream of every size queen right now. Licking up a strip from his balls towards his tip, Lucifer straight up moaned while his hands shoot towards your head, burying his fingers in your hair.

You took his tip into your mouth, but you couldn’t help but carelessly bit down on the most sensitive part of his dick. Revenge.

Lucifers hips buckled up, while he whined with tears in his eyes, “Ah, that hurts! Ssssssooorry, haaaa, you’re very…….very….pretty. Makes me ….nervous.”

Adam pressed a hand down in between your shoulder blades, causing you to take more of Lucifers length down your throat. You gagged, before regaining your cool. Adam’s piercing rubbed against your gspot, while your fingers carelessly rubbed against your clit. That’s all it took for you to cum, stomach tensing, cunt clenching, while your toes were curled up. Your eyes rolled briefly to the back of your head, while you moaned helplessly around Lucifers cock.

Lucifer moaned, while cumming into your mouth. His cum tasted like acid, so you basically spit his cum and dick out of your mouth. Yikes. Lucifers whole chest and face were completely covered in a red blush, he was breathing heavily.

After a few more ponds into your pussy Adam came inside you. He slapped your ass, before he tugged you up by your shoulders, while still being inside you. Seeing the cum dribble down your chin, and seeing the mess between Lucifers legs, Adam couldn’t help but laugh.

„She always swallows my cum. A real fucking shame.“ Adam kissed your clean cheek, while looking at Lucifers form.

„Wanna go another round, slut?“ Adam asked you, in a provocative manner.

You nodded at him, „Yeah….But. Alone.“ You side eyed Lucifer.

„You heard the woman. Get the fuck out of here.�� Adam growled at Lucifer, who scrambled to get somewhat dressed while leaving the bedroom. He cast one last, yearning look back before he was gone.

During that time Adam had already put you into a mating press, ready to make it up to you by making you see heaven.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.5 these feelings are hard to find

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 & drinking 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, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 5/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.4k

a/n. aaaa this chapter took me a while because i was having some pretty bad writer's block. i seriously can't believe it crossed over 10k words, i very poorly planned how much i wanted to get done by this chapter, but i didn't feel like splitting it into two so oh wellll. hope you enjoy! pls excuse any typos we all live on a floating rock.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

“I really don’t understand why I’m here…” you’re grumbling as you, Mina and Todo make your way up the pavement of the driveway leading to the house party. You glance to your right where Mina and Todo are holding hands, arms swinging as they keep pace together. 

It was finally Friday after a particularly long and stressful week, so you were extremely excited to just spend the rest of the night relaxing at home. You had already poured yourself a glass of wine when you returned from your evening class and were sitting on the couch with a blanket on, scrolling through Netflix, when Mina approached you while she was talking to Todo on the phone. She mentioned something about an SAE party tonight that she wanted you to come along for and Todo said he’d extend his other invite to you. When you politely declined, Mina slumped down on the couch and told Todo she had no interest in going unless you also came. And then Todo was bribing you with a hundred bucks. Easiest hundred bucks you’ve ever made. 

“Don’t be a downer. You’re here because I think you’ve been working hard and you need to relax a bit,” Mina chirps, now clinging onto Todo’s arm, “and there’s no better way to relax than getting drunk.”

“I could be getting drunk at home,” you mumble to yourself, the night you were imagining for yourself all day being very different from where you find yourself now. 

The guy that was bouncing for tonight’s party was scanning people’s phones and engaging in some small talk before allowing people inside. He was pretty handsome and you wondered if there was some sort of requirement written in the rules to the SAE fraternity that they must be good-looking to join.

“Hello, my brother,” Todo says as he approaches, smacking him so hard on the back in greeting that the man stumbles over slightly and sends an irritated glare Todo’s way before he regains his balance.

“Hey, big guy, are these your invites?” He gestures towards you and Mina, his eyes landing on yours and lingering for a moment. You blink at him. 

“Yes, this here’s my lovely lady, and this here’s my lovely lady’s friend,” Todo says with a faux suave that only makes you narrow your eyes at him. The man at the entrance sighs and nods before stepping out of the way and motioning the three of you towards the entrance. 

The minute you enter, you immediately realize that this party felt very different from the one you were at last week. It was slightly less crowded, but there were still plenty of people bustling around the large expanse of the ground floor with loud rap music that practically shook the walls. It was dark, much more edgy, with the only source of light being the sporadic flashing of lights over by the DJ’s booth. You felt disoriented from the atmosphere, and the smell of weed and alcohol only further dazed you. 

“This is insane,” you barely hear Mina say beside you over the music as she looks around the expansive interior of the house. In between the brief flickering lights that lit up people’s faces, you register that Todo is grinning at her as though he was entirely satisfied by her reaction. 

You only make it a few steps inside, trailing behind Mina and Todo, before feeling the need to excuse yourself to get away from the intense environment for a second. “Hey, I think I’m going to use the restroom real quick. Todo, do you have any idea where it is?” You feel like you’re shouting just to be heard. 

He looks over his shoulder at you. “There are some downstairs but they probably have lines. You could try upstairs.” 

You give him an appreciative nod and head over to the base of the staircase at the right, glancing up before making your ascent. There didn’t seem to be anyone else upstairs, which surprised you, but you figured you were just in luck and began to walk up step by step until reaching the top. The music downstairs begins to sound muffled as you turn around the railing post and make your way to the left into the narrow hallway likely leading towards the bedrooms. There's a white door somewhere in the middle of the hallway that could only be either a closet or a bathroom. You wrap your hand around the cold metal door handle and twist, satisfied that it wasn’t locked.

The mumbling noises of people inside doesn’t register in your mind until you’ve already cracked the door open half-way, and your entire body recoils in the immediate rush of embarrassment washing over you as you take in the sight of two people, a man and a woman, getting handsy with one another in the bathroom. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” is all you manage to squeak out, blinking dumbly at the scene. 

You’re quick to avert your gaze and about to close the door, incredibly mortified by what’s just happened, when the familiar silhouette in front of you causes you to freeze. You slowly lift your line of sight from the bathroom floor until Gojo Satoru is looking you straight in the eye from where he has a girl on the bathroom counter clinging to his shirt. 

“I…” you stutter, face feeling immediately hot as you let go of the door handle and look away from his shocked face. “Sorry,” you say again, this time barely above a whisper, before turning on your heel and making your way down the hallway in such a hurry that you don’t even realize you’re going the wrong way. You hear a feminine voice echo something in the bathroom like what the fuck are you doing?, and then there’s footsteps following after you that sound faster than your own. Ignoring the call of your name, you practically storm into one of the bedrooms, entirely relieved that it was empty, and can only take a couple of steps inside before a hand grabs at your wrist. A chill runs down your spine from the contact.

“Wait, y/n,” Gojo says behind you from where he’s followed you inside, sounding like he’s out of breath. His hand is still holding onto you, keeping you still and you can feel the roughness of his calluses against your skin. When you turn around to face him, he’s close to you and you see his chest is heaving, his hair is disheveled, his shirt is wrinkled at the front and there’s a crease in his brow. 

Your eyes don’t stay on his for long before you’re looking away from him again. “I’m…I’m really sorry, that was really awkward,” you say with a forced laugh and an attempt to wiggle yourself free of his grip but he’s unrelenting. The image of his fingers sliding up that girl’s top was still burned in your vision and no amount of excessive blinking at the carpet beneath your feet seemed to make it disappear. 

“No, I’m sorry, I was supposed to lock…” his trails off and you notice there’s a rough quality to his voice, “that was just-, we were just-”

You finally brave yourself to look up at him and he somehow seems closer than before, his face just inches away from yours and his eyes briefly flickering to your lips before he meets your gaze with a tense expression on his face. You haven’t seen him look so flustered before, and you’ve certainly never heard him struggle this much to find his words either. 

His other hand rubs the back of his neck as he closes his eyes in what looks like frustration, then takes a deep breath to seemingly calm himself down before speaking again. “She’s…We’re just friends,” is all he manages to say. 

There’s a silence between the two of you as you blink at him and he stares at you, his thumb pressing into the skin of where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. You try really hard to bite back the words you’re about to say, but no amount of willpower could’ve helped you. Your chin tips up, looking at him more decisively, and his gaze is flickering to your mouth again. “Just friends…can’t say I’ve ever tried to get my friends naked in the bathroom at a party before.” You didn’t understand why your tone came off so hostile, but it felt good to criticize his choice of words for some reason.

His lips press together, gaze narrowing slightly and eyebrows furrowing further at your words. He leans in closer to the point where your senses were entirely occupied by him and it was impossible to think of anything else. “Well, you weren’t supposed to see that.” His eyes are contrite but his tone is vexed. 

You relax your body language and use your other hand to forcefully slide his hand off of your wrist, encountering some resistance from him before he acquiesces. Your skin tingles from the absence of his touch and you take a step backwards away from him. His posture straightens slightly, eyes continuing to dart across the features of your face and wide in anticipation as though he was patiently waiting for you to say something that would put him at ease. 

“It’s fine,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice as level as possible, “I accidentally walked in on something I shouldn’t have. You don’t owe me any sort of explanation for it.” Gojo seems to tense up even further at your words, his expression briefly contorting into one of confusion before it reverts to concern again. 

You walk around him towards the bedroom door and see him in your periphery watching every step you take until you eventually exit the room. This time, you don’t hear his footsteps pursuing you from behind. It’s only when you make it past the bathroom, not even daring to take a look inside of it, and about halfway down the hallway that you unsteadily let out the breath you were holding in. Your hand takes its place over your chest in a flimsy attempt to calm your heart down as you quickly make your way down the stairs. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach and you knew you just had to get as far away from here as possible. 

You’re barely able to spot Mina from where she stood with Todo in a corner near the backyard screen door, and briefly notice that Nanami, Geto, as well as a few of their other teammates were clustered there too. You politely acknowledge their pleasant greetings to you as you approach Mina, pulling her to the side.

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” She asks, stumbling a little bit and you let go of her sleeve. 

“I’m going to go home, not feeling well, I think I just got my period,” you easily come up with a lie, “Nobara says she’ll pick me up.” In truth, you were planning on just calling an Uber for home, but you knew that Mina wouldn’t let you go home by yourself. You didn’t want your confusing and heightened emotions ruining her night.

“Wait, are you sure? I’ll come with you,” she’s quick to say, taking a step towards you but you shake your head.

“No, it’s fine, stay here with Todo,” you demand, “and call me if you need me to pick you up. I’ll let you know when I’m home.” You give her a little hug and she’s standing there confused before hesitantly nodding, and then you make your way to the door. The loud music, flashing lights, and blurred faces around you were so intensely stimulating that when the cold air from outside finally hit your skin, you felt like you were human again. 

The Uber comes by in less than ten minutes as you wait for it on the sidewalk. The driver drops you off at the entrance of your apartment complex and the biting chill of the air has you wrapping your arms around yourself as you wait for the elevator to take you upstairs. Glancing down at your phone to check the time, you see a message from Mina asking if you were home yet. You also see that it’s nearly one in the morning.

Finally making your way inside your apartment, you lock the door behind you and text Mina that you’re home, then slide down with your back against the front door until you’re sitting on the floor. The heat inside was so comforting that you just spent a moment to warm yourself up and just breathe. 

Memories of your conversation with Gojo from just half an hour ago instantly come to the forefront of your mind and you’re shutting your eyes to try and repel the thoughts away. Still so embarrassed that you walked in on him making out with someone, your brain decides to mortify you even further by asking what if you had walked in a few moments later instead? What would you have seen then? 

You squish your cheeks between your hands defeatedly before letting out a sigh and drawing your legs in towards you, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t understand why you were so affected by what you saw. You’ve only met Gojo twice, and you knew even before you met him that he was that kind of person. He had a reputation of being involved with a lot of women, so his rather eager desire to explain himself to you just puzzled you even further. 

Standing up, you head over to your bed and flop down on it. Your wrist still burns with the memory of the heat of his hand, and all you can see behind the lids of your eyes when you close them is the sight of him so close to you, stealing glances at your lips. 

Somewhere along the night as you drifted in and out of sleep, Mina called to let you know that she was on her way home. When you hear her open the bedroom door and set her purse down on the nightstand near her bed, your body finally convinces you that it’s okay to rest, and that’s exactly what you do.

---

The weekend is over in the blink of an eye, simply not enough time to mope around in bed, and you’re walking out of your last class of the day on Monday. You check your phone pretty much every other minute to see if Gojo has sent you any messages regarding their new practice schedule for the week, which you’re sure he’s received by now, but there’s nothing. The last messages sent between the two of you were before the party on Friday, and an uneasy feeling has been settling in. You spent most of last week appreciating how helpful he was being so far, but you didn’t even consider the possibility that he could rescind his help at any time too.

You head over to the Department of Communication & Journalism building, making your way up the stairs until you reach the graduate division floor and walk down the hallway to Room 212. As you make your entry, a toasty and rich scent overtakes your senses. 

“Ah, y/n, hello! So good to see you, thanks for coming by. I missed seeing you last week,” you hear Utahime say as she sets down a cup of coffee for you on the conference table in the middle of the room.

“Sorry, I was just…very mentally occupied last week,”  you admit to her, setting your tote bag down on one of the chairs before taking the seat where the cup of coffee was placed, the fragrance instantly waking you up as you take a sip. “Thank you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you, just working through my thesis,” she says with a sigh and takes the seat next to you. “Just a few more months…just a few more months, and I’m free!”

You smile at her and watch as she pulls out her laptop, the start-up noise chiming before she starts clicking away at the million tabs that were open. “Did you receive the email I sent you for the newsletter shots?” You ask.

Utahime was a 4th-year graduate student in journalism and was also the head of the school’s newsletter. She has so graciously allowed for Film Club photography shout-outs in every monthly issue for the past couple of years.

She nods. “I did,” she says, resting her elbow on the table and tapping her index finger to her chin, “how come I didn’t see any of your photos in there, though?”

You sigh, sulking your shoulders slightly as you peer down into the brown liquid of your cup and watch the steam evaporate. “I didn’t really take great pictures this month.”

“Aw, well are you working on anything right now?” She returns to clicking away at tabs.

“Yeah, I’ll be taking film photos out on the field of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni next week. It’s for an assignment,” you tell her and watch as her face lights up.

“That’s wonderful! That’s a pretty big gig, they usually only let professionals out on the field. How were you able to secure that?” Utahime asks you as she tips her head to the side.

“Ah…let’s just say I have some sort of deal with one of their players?” You say. Your heart drops a little when you remember the lack of communication from Gojo as of recently, wondering if he was able to get that referee permission for you.

“Which one?” Utahime asks with a teasing smile, leaning over to nudge you with her elbow.

“Gojo Satoru,” you say and then she’s pulling away from you and rolling her eyes, an annoyed look making its way onto her face. You let out a small laugh at her behavior. “Okay, well now I’m curious.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh as she peers beyond the window of the room. “I was his TA when he was just a wee-little freshman. He was always showing up late to class and trying to flirt his way out of completing assignments,” she grumbles, “is he still a little brat?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking way harder about her question than she had probably intended. “I don’t know…I don’t really know him all that well.” You look down at your hands. Despite the fact that you’ve only known Gojo for a short while, for some reason you felt like you did know him well. You knew the kinds of things that made him smile, you knew the look in his eyes when he was deep in thought about something. You knew what the heat from his body felt like, what the fragrance of his clothes smelled like. 

Utahime is silent for a moment as she studies you. “Hmm,” she’s humming next to you, “well, tell you what, send me your photos when you’re done with them. If they’re good, I’ll use your photos for the sports recap in the newsletter instead of the professional ones we get sent from the school. I can compensate you for them as well.”

Your eyes widen as you look at her, jaw dropping a bit as you blink in disbelief. “Utahime…you would do that for me?”

She gives you a smile and a wink. “Of course, talent helps talent. And it’s my newsletter, I can do whatever I want with it. Besides, you want to get into the school’s film graduate program, right? I’m sure it would look great on your application that you’ve had some of your portfolio published to the school’s official reports. The photos have to be good, though.” She points a finger at you and gives you a strict look.

You feel tears prickle in your eyes from her words, so overwhelmingly grateful for her support, and can barely whisper out a thank you before she’s rushing over to the other table to grab a tissue box and set it in front of you.

“Gosh, why do all my undergrads cry in my presence?” she complains as she pulls out a tissue and hands it to you.

You dab it to your eye. “Because you have such wholesome mom energy.” 

You say goodbye to Utahime after discussing a few more things and then leave the room. You check your phone and your heart skips a beat when you see Gojo’s name in your notifications.

|| 1:43PM Gojo Satoru: Hey, just wanted to let you know I was able to get that referee permission for you for next week

You let out a tiny gasp when you read his words then clutch your phone to your chest in relief. Utahime’s offer of the prospect of getting published in the school’s newsletter gave you a large sense of purpose, and you felt like it was time to take this assignment of yours extremely seriously to secure the opportunity. And Gojo was the one with the power to help you do that.

|| 1:52PM You: thank you so much, i really don’t know how to repay you

You sigh as you make your way to the stairs, grateful that you were getting some communication from him. The big game on the 28th was next Thursday, and you really needed to practice taking photos with your film camera. You open Instagram again to ask him for his practice schedule, but you see that he had sent you another message.

|| 1:54PM Gojo Satoru: No need to repay me, consider us even. Also sorry for the late notice, but we’re having a formal practice match in about an hour with one of the teams we played against earlier in the season. Do you want to come by?

After reading his message, you quickly shuffle your tote bag open and peer inside to see that you did indeed bring your film camera with you to campus today. Excited, you type out a response.

|| 1:55PM You: yes! i’ll hesd over right now

|| 1:55PM You: *head over

|| 1:55PM You: lol

You see little bubbles indicating typing in the left side corner.

|| 1:55PM Gojo Satoru: Meet me by the art sculpture, I’ll walk you over

You blink at the message for a few seconds, starting to type out a message before deleting it, and doing that a couple more times over. When someone tries to shuffle around you from behind, you notice you were standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs so you step away and lean against the wall. You press your lips together in consideration as you realize that today would be the first time you’re going to see Gojo again after that awkward interaction that you had with him at the party last Friday, and you were really not sure how you were going to feel having to be alone with him again.

|| 1:57PM You: that’s okay, i don’t want to trouble you

His response is instant.

|| 1:57PM Gojo Satoru: Just meet me there

Once you’ve made your way across campus, you spot Gojo sitting on the concrete barrier surrounding the art sculpture by the fields practically right in front of the please do not sit on the concrete barrier sign. His head is turned away from the direction you were approaching from, arms crossed at his chest and one of his legs impatiently bouncing up and down. You notice he’s wearing the school’s colors, a teal blue shirt and gray shorts that had some highlights of a sunset yellow, as well as gray athletic soccer shin socks and cleats. He looks so ridiculously sports boyfriend that you have to shake your head to try and physically fight the effect of how attracted you were to him.

He must’ve heard you approaching as you crossed the street towards him since he turned his head in your direction. He’s wearing a black sports headband across his forehead that’s pushing the hair up out of his face and you’re startled by the intensity of his blue eyes on you. When he stands up, his arms fall to his side, making you sad that you could no longer shamelessly stare at the way his biceps flexed when he had his arms crossed.

“Hey,” he says simply, staying perfectly still where he stood. 

There was only one way to dissolve an awkward situation, and that was to pretend like it never happened in the first place. You tip your head to the side, giving him a curious look before skipping right on up to him. “Hello, there,” you cheerfully say. He looks at you with a borderline annoyed expression.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he comments, his voice sounding deeper than usual. Almost tired. 

“Yes, very good mood,” you chirp as you walk past him, “I just got a very good offer.”

The sound of the bottom of his cleats on the sidewalk follow after you as you head in the direction of the softball batting cages. It's not long before he emerges at your side in your periphery. “What kind of offer?” You can tell from his tone that he was trying to restrain his curiosity. 

“Oh, you’ll see,” you say as you look up at him and smile. He gives you an irritated expression due to your lack of transparency but you continue to skip forward until you’ve made it to stairs that lead up to the grassy hills. 

Gojo’s about a step’s distance behind you as you lightly frolic across the land, your heavy tote bag bumping against your hip with every jump. You feel something fly out of it which halts you in your gleeful stride and look behind to where your bluetooth laptop mouse has fallen onto the grass right in front of Gojo. He’s sighing before crouching down to pick it up, then takes a step towards you and extends it out to you. When you glance up at him, he’s not looking at you and his face is hard to read. 

You grab the mouse from him, fingertips brushing against the skin of his palm, and he ever-so-slightly shivers at the touch. His gaze finally meets yours.

With a sigh, you toss your computer mouse back into your bag. “I’m trying really hard to not feel awkward around you right now, but you’re making it pretty difficult.” You were so used to feeling like he has the upper edge of conversation when you’re with him, but now you felt like you were the one with the power.

He raises an eyebrow at you and when you look at his hands, you notice he was apprehensively cracking his knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel awkward if you actually stayed to talk last Friday.”

You cross your arms across your chest, disliking his tone. “Stayed to talk? About what? How not close you are with your ‘friends’?” 

He tips his head up to the sky and closes his eyes, his brow furrowing like he was entirely frustrated by you, before he looks back down at you again. “If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine, but what’s with you always running away whenever I try to talk to you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well that night,” you mumble to him as you turn away and continue to walk towards the practice field. It was the truth, you weren’t feeling well that night, and it was because seeing him kissing another girl made your stomach drop to the core of the Earth. But that wasn’t something you were going to admit to him. It wasn’t even something you were ready to admit to yourself. “Also, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I don’t care to believe you.”

“But why don’t you care?” he’s asking you, his voice sounding desperate now as he makes his way to your side again. He’s looking at you but you’re looking straight ahead.

You roll your eyes, continuing to march forwards. “Not everyone cares about your love life, Satoru. Contrary to what you might think.”

He jogs ahead a few steps, now walking backwards in front of you and you narrow your eyes at him. His tongue is poking at the inside of his cheek and then there’s a boyish grin on his face. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” you ask.

“My name,” he says. 

You almost roll your eyes out of your head when you see his amused expression. “I seriously can’t believe this right now,” you’re muttering under your breath and walk past him down the large hill leading to the practice field, his gaze on you burning through your skin until you’re rubbing at your cheek with the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to physically wipe the blush away.

The practice field was much more crowded and busy than it was during the first practice you went to last week. Looking across to the other side, you see a group of men huddled near one of the benches, all of them wearing maroon-colored shirts with black shorts that have gold stripes running down the side of them. None of them were wearing jerseys, but you assumed they were wearing their school colors as some sort of distinguishing clothing that would help them during the practice match. 

“Satoru! Where the hell have you been?” You flinch upon hearing Coach Yaga’s stern voice nearby and you look over to where he had his arms crossed and glaring at Gojo through his thick sunglasses.

Gojo walks past you towards the benches and gives Coach Yaga a salute. “Sorry, sir, personal business.” He then makes his way over to the rest of his teammates that were huddled on this side of the field. There were a few tables located on the sidelines that had refillable water stations, bottles of Gatorade, towels and all sorts of other athletic gear. You walk up to one of the tables and fix the settings on your film camera before taking a snapshot of the items laid out on it. 

The atmosphere is light since this wasn’t an official match and so you spend some time fidgeting with your camera before they get started. You can only imagine how tense it must be during a proper tournament game at the actual stadium off-campus, the thought of thousands of people spectating from stands sending a shiver down your spine. Athletes were of a whole different breed, despite how wholesome and down-to-earth most of the UTokyo soccer players you’ve met so far were.

Eventually, Coach Yaga and the other coach from the opposing school blow their whistles, both acting as referees for the match, and the players scatter themselves across the field. You notice Gojo is at the center of the circle in the middle, his foot on top of the ball as he scans his eyes across the field to each of the players with a focused look in his eyes. He draws his foot back, and just when you think he’s about to kick it forwards to where he was looking, the back of his heel makes contact with the ball instead and it’s sent swiftly behind him towards Geto. Instantly, all the players begin to move across the field, some of the offensive opposing side charging towards Geto as he shuffles the ball between his feet before kicking it way ahead of him to another one of their teammates. You bring your camera up to your face and take a snapshot when one of the opposing team’s defenders makes an attempt to steal the ball. 

The play continues further, both teams playing a push-and-pull with the ball. Gojo makes an attempt at a goal before the opposing team’s goalie lunges for the ball that was flying in the air straight towards the net, catching it in his arms and then crashing down onto the ground. Somewhere along the intense match, the coaches call half-time and you’re shocked by how fast the first half went by. 

Some of the players retreat to the benches to quench their thirst and wipe the perspiration off their faces with their towels, while others remain on the green expanse to pace around while catching their breath. Your attention is drawn to Gojo who stood at the center with his hands on his hips and breathing visibly heavily. He leisurely shuffles the ball between his feet with an innate rhythm before passing it off towards Geto who stood a few feet away from him. Gojo pulled his headband off of his face, his hair falling over his forehead onto the sheen layer of sweat above his eyes. With each breath, his chest rises and falls, lips parted in a display of exertion, and then he grabs at the hem of his shirt to lift it to his face, exposing his toned torso, as he wipes away the sweat at his temples. Your eyes widen at the sight, almost entranced as a wave of arousal suddenly consumes you, before he releases his grip on the fabric and it falls back down. He pushes his hair back up out of his face with one of his hands, the other securing the headband back onto his forehead with a snap, and the muscles of his arms tense fluidly with every motion. 

You quickly look away from him, afraid he'll catch you staring, and blink at the grass as you notice the fast beating of your heart. Coach Yaga's whistle blows, causing you to look back up again. Players were making their way back onto the field and Gojo found his position at the center again. His eyes darted across the field, making their way onto the faces of each player, and then they eventually landed on you. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly into a small smile before he's looking back down at the ball by his feet. And then they start the kickoff.

UTokyo ends up winning 3-1, and by the end of the match the sun is starting to set, painting the sky beautiful hues of purple and orange. You lean over to pick your things up off the grass as the players make their final retreat to the benches, and you gently place your film camera back into its case when Gojo’s voice next to you makes you jump.

“Hey. Please don’t run off,” he says. When you turned to look at him, he was still breathing a bit fast and he had a flushed, almost serene, look across his face. “Give me your phone.” He extends his open palm out to you. 

“My phone?” You ask him, reaching for where it was located in your back pocket and pulling it out. He nods without any further explanation. You place it in his palm and he’s tapping away at it before handing it back to you. When you look down, you notice he gave a random number a call.

“That’s my number. Save it,” he says. You blink at him. His expression is soft for a moment and then he’s turning around and away from you, heading over to where his teammates were crowded around one of the tables and giving each other pats on the back.

You tip your head to the side to watch him as a couple of his teammates sling their arm around his neck and smack his chest, masculine laughter and jokes filling the air. You can’t help but smile before you pick up your things and start making your way up the hill away from the field, back towards the heart of campus. 

---

The following days of the week where you don’t see Gojo play soccer seems like a waste, because why weren’t you spending every single day of your life watching him play soccer? You sigh to yourself at the question as you use clothing pins to hang up the film photos you took up onto a wall in your school’s photo lab. You finished developing the photos from Monday’s practice match, only to realize that you accidentally took them on one of your black-and-white rolls instead of full-color. You step back to take a look at all the images you had clipped onto the string pinned to the walls, snapping a shot of the collage with your phone, before pulling them all back down and stuffing them into a Manila folder. 

The only time the photo lab wasn’t bustling with other film & photography majors was usually after sunset, but by the time you finished having dinner with one of your friends on campus, you had made it there around 7PM. By the time you leave and make it to your parked car, it’s pitch black outside. As you step inside your car and turn the key to ignite the engine, the windshield wipers automatically swiping as the control lights inside come to life, the clock on your dashboard reads 10:37PM. 

The GPS for some reason prompts you to take an alternative route back to your apartment that avoids the freeway in an attempt to save you from twenty minutes of traffic, and you consider what to do for a moment before the exhaustion in your bones convinces you to take the allegedly faster way home.

As you begin to head in the unfamiliar direction, the excitement you had to make it home as soon as possible slowly starts to dwindle more and more as the streets morph from well-lit and bustling with people to dark and surrounded by trees instead. What used to be a three-lane street turned into one, and you count the seconds between every passing car you see coming by in the opposite direction. You’re worried when your counting makes it past sixty seconds. 

You turn your music up in your car to distract yourself from the fear of driving down the secluded and dark road. There was a slight fog settling up ahead in front of you to where you could only see clearly about thirty feet ahead. You spot something on the road, blinking rapidly to focus your vision, and then your eyes widen when you realize what it was. Rocks.

You’re instantly swerving your car to the side, attempting to deftly avoid the scattered rocks but unfortunately you drive over a few of them, causing your tire to pop and you let out a scream when you lose handle on your car. One of the rocks flies up and hits your windshield, cracking the glass, and suddenly you’re driving up over the curb to the right before you finally regain control of your car and swerve back onto the road, slamming on the brakes.

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your body, and you grip onto the steering wheel while you try to regain your breath. Your windshield had a large crack in it, large enough to where the cold air from outside was whistling its way inside your car, and you were slanted in your seat due to the punctured tire at the front. As you took deep breaths, you noticed how alone you were on a dimly lit street where you hadn’t seen a single car in more than five minutes, fear and anxiety surging through your body. Your hands reach for your phone, shakily turning it on and exhaling in relief when you see that you have reception, then call the emergency telephone line.

“Hello, how can we help you?” a feminine voice on the other end of the line says.

“Hi, um,” you say, voice sounding shaky, “I just got a flat tire on Musashi road, about five miles from the Main Street intersection. I don’t have a spare on me, and my windshield is cracked too…could you send roadside assistance?”

“Yes, absolutely,” the woman says kindly and begins to take down some information from you. “Thank you, ma’am. Unfortunately, there has been a big accident on the freeway, so many of the tow-trucks and officers have been dispatched to that area. It may take about an hour for help to arrive. Are you able to call someone to come stay with you as you wait?”

“Oh…” You press your lips together in thought. “Yes, I should be able to.” After working out a bit more logistics with the woman on the other line, you hang up and then you’re scrolling through your contacts. You first call Mina’s line, which goes straight to voicemail, and then you remember that she was out of town for tonight and half of tomorrow visiting her family. You call Nobara, who also doesn’t pick up, and then a couple of your other friends who go straight to voicemail as well. You start to panic slightly before calling your friend Maki who lives two hours away.

“Hello?” You hear her voice say when she picks up.

“Maki! Oh my gosh, thank you for picking up,” you say to her through the phone, your hand on your chest as you sigh. You explain your situation to her and she’s instantly providing you with soothing words. 

“Is there no one that can come stay with you? I feel awful that I’m so far away,” she says.

“It’s okay, they said that help will be here in maybe fifty minutes now…I just really wanted to talk to someone,” you say, peering out into the darkness of the night. You’re still shocked you haven’t seen a single car drive by in the past ten minutes. You pull your phone from your face to check the time and see a notification on your phone that says 5% battery remaining. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Maki asks worriedly.

“My phone is running out of battery…” you say with a defeated tone. Your anxiety starts to rise in your chest again. “I don’t know if I can stay on the line.” You scroll through your contacts again, finger halting the screen when your eyes land on another name. “I…I think I have someone else I can try calling.”

“Good, try that. I don’t want you to be stuck out there with a dead phone and a flat tire. Let me know if this person doesn’t pick up, okay?” She’s saying to you and you send her your location before hanging up.

You’re breathing heavily from fear when a particularly harsh gust of wind pushes more cold air through the crack of your windshield. Pulling your phone from your face, you click on the name in your contacts and bring your phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, almost a third time before you hear a click and then a voice.

“Y/n?” Gojo’s voice calls out, sounding surprised. 

Hearing his voice immediately causes a wave of relief to wash over you and you lay back in your seat, having to muffle the abrupt sob that threatens to erupt from the tightness in your throat. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Mm…no,” you admit to him, sniffling slightly and swiping at the stray tear that rolls down your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m just a bit scared right now.” Your voice cracks towards the end of your sentence and you silently berate yourself for not mustering enough emotional strength at the moment. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his voice starting to sound uneasy. 

“I was driving down this road, it was dark, I couldn’t really see much…but I ended up driving over these rocks and my tire punctured. I called for roadside assistance and they said it would take about an hour for help to arrive,” you ramble, “I tried calling Mina, and some of my other friends to come and wait with me, but-” You run out of breath to finish your sentence and you’re sniffling again. 

“Send me your location, I’m heading over right now,” he says and you hear what sounds like keys jingling in the background along with some other shuffling noises, “can you stay on the line?”

You pull your phone from your ear and see that you’re at 3% now before sending him your location. “No…my phone is running out of battery.” 

He’s silent for a second on the other end. “It says I’ll be there in twelve minutes. Just…hang tight, okay? Make sure your doors are locked.” 

You nod before remembering that he can’t see you, so you say I will. He’s hesitant to hang up on you but when your phone flashes from 3% to 2%, you tell him you don’t have much of a choice and then he’s giving you another word of caution before reluctantly hanging up. You’re all alone to your thoughts in your car again, shaking from the anxiety and blinking tears away. 

The twelve-minute wait felt so long, and eventually Gojo texts you that he’s one minute away when your phone is at 1% battery. You see headlights approaching behind your car in your rearview mirror, the first sight of another human being you’ve seen in probably the past thirty minutes stepping out of the driver’s seat and you immediately recognize his silhouette. He walks up to the passenger side door and tips his head down so he’s visible through the window. At the sight of him, you finally release the breath you were holding in before opening your car door and stepping outside. You both look at each other across the top of your car and you notice him letting out a deep breath of his own as his shoulders relax at the sight of you. 

He makes his way wordlessly around the front of your car to you and he’s studying your face intently. You look away from him when you realize he could probably tell that your eyes were puffy and that you had been crying. From your periphery, you see the back of his hand reach out when he’s right in front of you, hesitating slightly before it briefly brushes against your cheek, dabbing at a tear that you must’ve missed. His hand is warm against your skin and the sudden desire to hug him consumes every single fiber of your being, but when you look up at him, the soft expression on his face renders you still. 

“Thank you for coming,” you’re whispering to him.

He lets out a short comical exhale through his nose. “I wasn’t going to not come. What kind of person do you think I am?”

You shiver as another gust of wind passes through, crossing your arms across yourself. Gojo slips the jacket he was wearing off, revealing a beige sweater underneath, and then he’s circling around you to place it over your back. It’s cozy and it smells like him.

You’re about to voice your concern for him but his voice behind you cuts you off. “I run warm, don’t worry.” 

He walks around to the front of your car, bending over to the side to assess the flat tire at the front, his hands shoved into his pockets. You pull his jacket around you tighter. “Damn, the tread on your tires is horrendous. No wonder. You should really check on them more often.” He straightens himself up and peers at the crack across your windshield. “And that’s definitely not gonna be cheap to fix.”

You sigh in annoyance, his casual tone causing your eye to twitch slightly, but when you noticed your heart was calm and your breathing was normal again, you looked at him with the realization that him just being here managed to soothe you. 

He looks back over at you with a considerate expression. “Do you want to sit in my car? It’s chilly out here.”

You press your lips together before shaking your head. “I feel like I need the fresh air.”

Gojo’s walking over to the patch of grass on the pavement at the side of the road and sits down on the curb. He pats the spot next to him with an awaiting look on his face and you make your way to him, sitting to his left. He looks down at the distance you’ve put between the two of you, almost three feet, and he’s sighing before scootching closer to you. “Don’t be greedy with your body heat. I said I run warm, not that I’m a furnace.”

His shoulder brushes against yours and his knee bumps against your thigh as he gets comfortable. You bring your legs closer to you and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin on top of your knee. Gojo was leaning back onto his outstretched arms behind him, legs extended in front as he tipped his head back up to look at the sky. You look over at him. His gaze slowly shifts from one point in the sky to the other, and you wonder what he’s mapping with his eyes. 

“Thank you for getting the referee permission for me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him in person. “I’m excited to take photos out on the field next week.”

“Sure thing, my freaky little photographer. I’m sure you are,” he chimes. 

You stick your bottom lip out in an annoyed pout. “So, we’re even now.”

He looks over at you and smiles. His blue eyes were a bit darker underneath the starry sky with less light to reflect off of them, and the quality made them look gentle. “No, you’ve gotta make sure Mina stays interested in Todo.” 

You can tell he’s just joking, but you respond as if he’s serious anyways. “That was never part of the agreement,” you say, “besides, I don’t really think that’s necessary. She seems to be pretty taken with him already.”

He laughs. “And you’re not worried about that?”

“What’s there to worry about?” You ask.

“I don’t know, the fact they hit it off so fast?” He shrugs and you feel the friction of the movement against your shoulder.

“Hmm, no. Mina’s a smart girl, she’s good at sniffing out those red flags,” you say assuredly before lifting a suspicious eyebrow at him, “should I be worried? He's your friend. Enlighten me.”

Gojo shakes his head musingly at your concern. “Todo’s a good guy,” he says in a soft voice.

“He’s not on the soccer team, right? I didn’t see him the past couple of times I was on the field,” you say with realization.

“Nah, he’s just a mad lad I met in my freshman year econ class. We’ve been friends ever since,” he says, swaying his knee from side to side. “He’s the one that got me to join the frat.”

You two are silent for a moment, listening to the noise of the wind through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. The previous anxiety you had from the night completely dissipated into peacefulness instead, and the man beside you was responsible for that shift. 

“Can you tell me what that offer was that you were so excited about earlier this week?” he asks.

You look up to the sky briefly, trying to remember what he was talking about. “Oh. I might be able to publish the photos I take of the game next week to the sports recap in the school newsletter,” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, eyes widened. “Woah, seriously? That’s so cool. Can you make sure I look hot?”

You roll your eyes and go back to resting your chin on your knees. “Sure.” 

A comfortable silence settles before he’s speaking again. “What inspired you to be a film photographer?” He’s turning his body so he’s facing you a bit more directly. 

“Well, the end goal is film movie making…but my professor says that it’s important to understand the art of film photography before that,” you say, twiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “He says that ‘if a filmmaker cannot master the single frame shot, then how can they possibly put together a film composed of a million of them’?” 

Gojo is humming beside you and nodding in agreement. He turns away from you to face forward again and he starts tapping his foot on the pavement of the road. “Huh. That’s kind of similar to something coach says during drills.” 

You glance over at him, a little surprised. He continues to stare forward with a somewhat innocent expression on his face, and then you can practically see the moment another question pops up into his head. 

“Why don’t you make your Instagram public? Your photos would probably get a lot more views or likes that way,” he says in an excited tone, like he’s cracked some code. 

You let out a small laugh and bury your face into your knees, your voice sounding muffled when you speak. “I did have it public for a while. Until a troll spammed a bunch of hate comments on my posts and I quickly switched it to private after that.” Saying it out loud, you felt a bit silly. You’re apprehensive as you say the next few words. “I guess I’m scared that I’m not good enough to be acknowledged or successful, and that somehow other people will see that truth before I can.”

“Oh come on, y/n,” he’s saying beside you, gently nudging your arm with his elbow. The contact causes your breath to catch in your throat. “You just have to go for it. You can’t accomplish anything if you don’t face your fears.” When you watch those words leave his mouth, you notice he now has a thoughtful expression as he stares ahead to the other side of the road.

Another beat of silence goes by. “Why did you start playing soccer?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a long time as he blinks, to the point where you’re unsure if he even heard your question, but then he finally answers. “My dad used to play in college. He introduced me to the sport when I was younger and I fell in love with it.” Your perk up slightly and tip your head to the side in curiosity. He’s looking down at his lap now.

“That’s really wonderful, Satoru. Was he also center forward in college?” When you ask him this, you don’t miss the way his eyebrows pinch together for a split second before his expression relaxes again. 

“Yeah, he was,” he responds, “he got injured in his last year, though. Never got to play after that.” There’s an inflection at the end of his sentence that makes you think he’s about to say more but he doesn’t. 

Your face softens when you see him stare down at the curb with a slightly troubled expression. In a moment of tenacity, you place your hand on his thigh and his eyes widen when he sees the movement before he’s looking over at you.

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to brush a few strands of his hair away from his eyes. Both of you are shocked at the intimate gesture and you’re quick to withdraw your hand. 

Your faces are close, his side still pressed against yours, and neither of you break eye contact. You take a moment to study the handsome features of his face and your heart aches a little. The cold air has you licking your lips and Gojo’s eyes dart to them, gaze lingering, and you blink slowly when he leans forward slightly. Blue eyes find yours again and he stills himself, searching your face for something, and when he doesn’t see it he continues to lean forward and you lean towards him too. And then his lips press against yours, so chaste and so light that it’s possible you could have imagined it, but just when you feel his warm hand cup your face and he’s about to deepen the kiss, a loud honking noise startles the two of you and you both jump, pulling away from one another. You see Gojo’s face illuminated with bright golden lighting as he winces and holds up one of his hands in front of his face to shield himself from being blinded by it. 

You turn your head to the left towards the source of the light and see a tow truck approaching. “Hey! Is this the flat and windshield crack?” you hear the driver shout out from where his head was stuck out the window.

You’re speechless, cheeks feeling flushed from the realization that Gojo had just kissed you, and you turn to look at him. He silently stands up with a weary exhale and a calm expression on his face and then shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, it is.” He makes his way over to the tow truck and you hear him make conversation with the driver as well as the man in the passenger seat. You’re still sitting stunned on the curb, bringing your fingers up to gently touch your lips that were still searing from earlier. Gojo’s suddenly standing in front of you and you’re staring at his legs before you tip your head back up to look at him.

“Do you have any valuables in your car?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of your car.

“Ah…my phone and my tote bag,” you say. He crouches down in front of you, earnest eyes level with yours, and his hand reaches into the pocket of his jacket where you had stashed your keys. He removes only your car key from the ring, handing the set of other keys back to you, and then he’s unlocking your car to get your stuff out of it.

You remain on the curb, watching as Gojo handles the entire interaction with the tow truck helpers. When they’ve successfully anchored your car to the tow truck and one of the men comes around to shake Gojo’s hand, you see him reach into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing the man some cash. You stand up in a bit of a panic and head over. 

The tow truck is already pulling away with your car from the curb when you make it in front of Gojo. He hands you a business card with the towing company information on it and then looks down at you with a mild demeanor, letting out a long exhale. “Ready to go home? You’ve had a long night.”

Exhaustion suddenly consumes your entire being and you hesitantly nod. 

The interior of Gojo’s car is nice. It’s clean, smells like him and pine, with nice leather seats that have warmers. You’re still wearing his jacket, clenching it tightly around you, as he inputs your apartment address into his GPS and starts to drive you home.

Neither of you say a word to one another during the ride. You watch his hand tighten its grip at the top of the steering wheel occasionally as he drives. He turns his car into the entrance of your apartment complex and parks in the loading zone. You watch as he makes his way out of the car to the passenger side door, opening it for you. You step outside and thank him.

“It’s okay, I’ll head inside from here,” you say, already feeling like you’ve caused him enough trouble. You abruptly remember that Mina isn’t home and the realization that you’ll be all alone tonight creates a hollow feeling in your chest.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Come on,” he says, walking past you to make his way to the elevator and pressing the up button. It dings before immediately opening and he walks inside like he’s the one that lives here. He places a hand out to hold the door sensors when he sees that you don’t follow him inside. You jump out of the mild trance you were in and quickly rush in before he withdraws his hand and the elevator door shuts. 

“Which floor?” He asks, finger hovering over the control pad. You tell him three. 

Once you reach the third floor, you step out into the hallway and he follows suit. Your apartment was just seven units down towards the right and the two of you eventually made it to the door. You turn around to look up at him. His expression becomes slightly distressed and when you don’t say anything to him, he shoves his hands further into his pockets and sways back and forth slightly. 

“Alright, mission accomplished, I got you home,” he says with a forced jovial tone, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. You notice he does that when he seems nervous about something.

Your mind recalls the kiss from earlier, the feeling of Gojo’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed up against you in the cold, the tender way his hand held your face still so he could have more of you, only for it to be cut short. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and your cheeks flush with warmth. He’s looking down at you intently and you’re looking up at him pensively. 

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself. Not yet.

Your hands reach into your tote bag to pull out the keys to your apartment. “Yes, home.” He watches you jingle the metal in your hands. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he says and he takes a step back. Turning around, you push your key into the keyhole with shaking hands, turning it, and open the door to your apartment, letting yourself inside. You look at him from the entryway with the door still ajar. 

“Good night, take it easy,” he says to you.

“Thanks, you too.” And then he’s out of your sight as you shut the door.

You lean back against the front door, letting out a sigh and biting down on your lip, the thumping of your heart pertinent throughout your entire body. There was a lingering truth to all of the emotions that you’ve been having recently. It followed you in the early hours of the morning, it followed you as you tried to fall asleep at night, it was present in the silence, lurking in the dark, and it was there with you tonight for every second that he was by your side.

You had feelings for Gojo Satoru. 

a/n. thanks sooo much for reading and i hope you enjoyed aaa idk this week felt off for my writing for some reason but i heavily edited it so i hope it came out okay in the end.

➸ take me to chapter six!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru

[princessbrunette]

omg what do you think the boys’ hidden talents would be ??

i think rafe’s will be posh hobbies he learnt as a kid, like he’s amazing at the piano or knows one classical piece really well and/or he’s fluent in French ?? because of Guadalupe

jj’s maybe really good at making cocktails ?? idk

john bee’s could be origami ?🤔

pope’s probably really good at juggling (he’s the only one with a brain big enough to coordinate himself to juggle ykwim?? 😭)

anywaysss im excited to know what you think

-🐣

WHY ARE THESE ALL SO ACCURATE !!

rafe is kinda shitty at french but he can speak it enough to be able to say he speaks it to impress people yk? the piano skill never went away though. he’s the type to just be casually super good at something without trying too n it pisses u off. the two of you will be cruising round an event ward had dragged the two of you along to network and he’ll sit down at the piano in the middle of the room n just start playing and you’re like ??

i do definitely think jj is good at making cocktails. comes up with his own mixtures you’ve never heard of before. he’s the guy that approaches you eagerly at every party holding a red solo cup saying “nah, trust me okay. my special blend. tastes like juice, try it.” when it does infact taste like alcohol— but it’s still yummy n gets you fucked up. i also believe for some reason jj has a special skill for making bombs (think hazel from bottoms) he learnt how to do it as a kid n then kept implementing the skill in his life to the point where the pogues have to be like “dude. no bombs.” before each lil mission. he says fine but next thing you know somethings blowing up and everyone’s running 🙄

john b does seem to be really nifty with his hands i feel like he can do stuff like origami or even randomly crotchet 😭 origami he’ll always be doing, when he’s deep in thought about some treasure or smth he’s folding up a piece of paper so intricately and you’re just like ?? how are you doing that ?? probably learnt how to crotchet from a babysitter he’d had when he was a kid, maybe even lana grubbs— and now it’s just a skill he pushes to the side until it’s your bday n now he’s kicking u out the room to crotchet you a puppy stuffed animal :(

pope can def juggle. and whilst he juggles he explains to you the physics behind it which makes him all the more nerdy n cute. i also believe he can sing, probably super shy about it but when you’re sleepy he’ll lay you on his chest n sing to you and you’re like ?? hello you are rlly good ?? and he just waves u off !

[emrikae]

aot cast modern au jobs in my head:

eren: cybersecurity specialist. i feel like erens one of those kids that suck in subjects like lang-lit or fucking geography but have an impressive talent in anything techi. i think growing up eren was a competitive gamer and i imagine him being pretty rich in the sense where doctor daddy grisha and also big bro zeke are always spoiling his brat ass with the latest technology. he gets so good, he initially goes into uni wanting to become a game designer but after a brief fallout with his dad when he dropped out and eventually had his allowance cut (a period where i think eren dips into underground hacking and also modelling?) he falls upon the sexy salary in cybersecurity (and saw how thrilling- and damn easy !for him! - the job is) he changed course. i think eren eventually builds his own successful company and becomes one of those rich folks who say that school aint shit.

mikasa: president of a major sports team. mikasa takes over pretty young (like early 30s) after old uncle kenny was involved in some ‘reiss scandal’. initially mikasa was labelled ‘princess’ (derogatory) by dumb angry hooligans who thought a woman would curse their current standing, jokes on them cus that same season the club broke their 20 year curse by reaching the championships. i also think old pictures of gothkasa gets leaked on the internet but it only brought her more praise. but i actually dont think mikasa stays in this job for very long, shes always wanted a quiet simple form of income anyway so when her baby brother comes of right age and maturity she passes the baton to him and lays back as just a shareholder before shes even 40. i also believe mikasa in another universe wouldve loved to be an archivist.

armin: celebrity marine biologist/activist that went viral online during lockdown. he gets his own fanbase and is termed ‘biologist bae’ cus of his cute looks. a tv producer who fell into his corner pretty much fell in love with him after seeing armin deliver a spiel about endangered dugongs. invites him to a bunch of talk shows and the viewership goes so high (a large portion of it being teenage fangirls who want to ‘save the ocean’ too!) he manages to score his own show where he eventually meets his future wife.

annie: senior tv writer who got with armin after working with him on his show. she usually works on sporty reality shows and competitions even though shes a big time introvert. known for her sharp dont fuck with me work ethic, annie gags at how easily she fell into ‘biologist baes’ charm, hates how shes just like the 14 year old fangirls who try to sneak into their shoots. but anyways, annies the ace at her job been going hard for about 15 years but ultimately decides to retire early after having her second child and really liking how ‘biologist bae’ was making enough dough for the whole family.

sasha: influencer cus shes so pretty and fun. was a design major so all her vids have a ‘aesthetic’. now she prettily promotes lifestyle hacks for all the girlies. she also has a set of vids called “what my chef husband cooked for me today” . i think also further on she ends up being one of those moms who shoots vlogs and reviews with their kids.

jean: jeans a classy guy with artistic talents so i imagine him being a successful automotive designer for a luxurious car company. a mommas boy, he used his first fat pay-check to buy his mom a sleek ride thats a little too fast for someone her age. dudes insta page is what you’d expect from a posh car enthusiast with flashy posts of either him, his car, his mom or all 3.

connie: real estate party man. he really climbed his way up and becomes a man of many stories, friends with everyone and plenty of connections. the old hustle got him familiar with the best locations in the city, and now with his excellent salesmanship dude manages to sell at least 3 huge properties a week. i also feel like connies one of those dudes to finally settle down in his 40s -50s (with someone half his age).

historia: i believe queenbee was made for wedding planning. she has her own company before her first job ever but damn is she good at it. being brought up filthy rich, historia is familiar with the highest quality of things, knows whats on the market that only the small percentage of rich people know and will get clients their dream wedding to a t. moreover, she also loves to play cupid (canon!) and is always up to planning her friends weddings (and baby showers, and birthdays parties, and…)

ymir: i imagine ymir being on the board of directors for a bunch of ngos. she had a tough upbringing, was probably moved around from one home to another and could see how hard life is for anyone working at minimum wage. she grew up to be a little spitfire in school, hadnt taken it seriously until she reached senior year and bonded with a school staff named Ms Ymir Fritz. With the wisdom and kindness she learnt from her old teacher, ymir wanted to pay it forward and decided to make a living helping those in need.

reiner: idk why, but i feel like reiners a softie at heart and i imagine him having a nice cozy candy shop. probably fighting old childhood demons and the parental neglect he faced, his cute little shop comes as part of his healing journey to compensate what he missed out on in his youth. its sweet (but a little heartbreaking) that reiners favourite part about his job is getting to witness and be a part of the joy that emerges between families when they enter his shop.

bertholdt: a nurse just cus i think bertholdt would know how to be gentle with the patients. hes got a soft way of speaking that makes vulnerable people feel safe and comfortable. hes also wildly knowledgeable in flexibility and keeping your muscles in good shape that he conducts morning stretches and sometimes yoga in one of their recreational halls.

[saeist]

"wait rin! did you buy a candle?" you ask the youngest itoshi in shambles as you hurriedly tried to put everything together for sae's midnight surprise as it was his birthday in approximately two minutes.

rin rummages his pockets for the single candle he bought at the convenience store near your shared apartment with his older brother.

"here" he delicately places the candle onto your little cake that you've generously baked hours earlier when sae was at his trainings.

you take a look around the shared space of your living room and kitchen. it was filled silver decorations like balloons and streamers all scattered around. a big sign that says 'happy birthday sae' is propped on the wall.

everything was perfect and in place.

you couldn’t have done this all without the help of his brother and of course his two friends, shidou and aiku (if sae would even call them that, but you know deep inside he does acknowledge them)

"wait so how are you gonna drag sae to the living room?" you hear aiku ask you from the living room.

"easy. i'll just scream bloody murder and he'll come running in" you snort, earning a hefty laugh from shidou. to which aiku then slaps his hand over his loud ass mouth, careful not to ruin the whole big surprise.

the room turns quiet at the commotion. not a single person moving a muscle incase sae suddenly comes running in at the loud noise.

rin snaps his head towards shidou's direction and glares at him. aiku is barely containing his own laugh from the whole ordeal and shidou just looks like he was gonna pass out from the lack of air.

three beats of silence passed and it seems like sae wasn't woken up by shidou so that's clearly a good sign that everything is under control. sometimes you are thankful and grateful that sae was a heavy sleeper in times like this

you then look down at your watch to see that it was a minute til the clock strikes at twelve so you hurriedly looked for a lighter and it was show time.

"guys hide!" you hushed, closing the lights and making sure that everything was hidden in the dark before yelling at the top of your lungs.

"SAE! COME IN HERE HELP!" you yelled bloody murder as you hid behind the kitchen island, holding sae's cake in place and smoothly lighting the candle

you hear your bedroom door slam open and heavy footsteps running through the hard wood floors of your shared apartment.

"y/n?!" you hear sae call out, eyes frantically looking for your silhouette in the dark before he reaches over to the light switch to turn the lights on

sae's eyes adjust to the sudden bright lights and lo and behold, there you were standing before him, holding what seems to be his cake with his younger brother and his two idiotic teammates (or at this point, his own friends) behind you singing to him happy birthday.

"happy birthday to you~ happy birthday to you~ you look like a monkey and you smell like one too!" you all sang to sae who looked dumbfounded by the whole thing

"happy birthday dude!" both aiku and shidou rush over him to dap him up. aiku sliding his hands over sae's shoulders as he shows off all the decorations they did at the last minute.

"you see that killer decoration skills? yeah i did that. talk about talent, am i right shidou?"

shidou cackles once again, "i did it better than you"

"no you didn't"

"yes i did"

"get off of me" sae pushes the two idiots away from him. sae then makes eye contact with rin who gave him a curt smile.

"happy birthday, nii-san" rin mumbles, walking away from the living room into the kitchen. although he doesn't miss the small smile on sae's face as he leaves.

and there you were. in front of sae, holding out his cake that you made specifically for him with a widest smile on your face.

"happy birthday, sae" you smiled, tiptoeing to give him a little kiss on the cheek.

but sae being sae, moves his head right before your lips made contact with his cheek. making you kiss him on the lips. you feel sae smirk into the kiss as you both stayed still in that position for what seems to be a while.

"we get it you two are in love!" you hear shidou comment, making aiku burst out laughing. you pull away as you try to hide your blushing face from the birthday boy.

sae wraps his arm around you, "so you did this all for me?"

"well, obviously" you playfully rolled your eyes, leaning towards sae in content. totally satisfied with the outcome of your little surprise.

"thank you, y/n" you hear sae mutter quietly as he presses his lips on the top of your head, rubbing his arms on your sides as sae takes in all your effort to surprise him for the very first time.

sae smiles at the thought of that he could get used to this.

that is until he feels something sticky on the side of his face. he looks down to see you laughing with your finger covered in frosting.

it's be a long night for everyone involved.

happy birthday, sae!

[kabutoden]

i think these two are some of my top favorite fantrolls :) they're just so stupid cute. The boy with acne's name is Excell and the girl's name is Banana Junior 6000. She's the big, blocky CRT computer monitor you can see Excell riding around on in the first image--listen, people started making robot trolls oc, and hey robots can be ANY shape, even the shape of a banana junior from the old comic bloom county. I love that little guy :) so im stealing him for my fantroll. I DO WHAT I WANT!

More below cut.

Excell's been obsessed with hunting for ghosts for a long time, and he repairs ancient, manual troll technology to do so. The tunnels between the gold city and school are creepy, abandonded, and a perfect place to look. Recently a device he brought back gained sentience, and he's so proud that a ROBOT can develop an identity and personality--though a lot of his friends have pointed out that Banana Junior's behavior is suspiciously more like a troll then a robot. Excell, eager to accept the robot revolution, denies their observations because Banana Junior is literally his best friend and moirail!?! He is dating that computer. It's because he respects its PERSONHOOD.

Excell might seem a bit like a nerd stereotype that you might disrespect but he has complete confidence in his own identity and interests and is a really solid dude. Super talented, too. I think he's pretty awesome, actually. He's also genuinely a very good friend. I like how i built his personality, kinda like a fun blend of concepts around Aradia and Sollux.

He's unfortunately wrong about Banana Junior--that's totally a spirit made of electricity possessing his computer, and toying with him setting off his electronics when he goes ghost hunting. Junior finds playing with Excell way more interesting then look into their own identity, which they don't really remember--they don't want the confirmation that they really are dead.

Fortunately, Junnye is actually still alive, just comatose after going through an intense surgery, the electric energy of her mind astral-projecting from her body. One day, Excell will help her confront who she is and travel back to her body, and they'll continue to live happily as partners.