#tried to make him look like a sticker stuck on the photo

[blueskieswastaken]

local fanfiction writer creates image

i taught myself to draw for this :)

[nanamiskentos]

WHAT? LIKE IT'S HARD? ✶ choso kamo

abstract ✶ there are six physiological stages of having a crush. you just wish that you didn't have to learn this through first-hand experience. everyone said that choso kamo was a loser in high school, a quiet kid who haunted the campus with no friends. sure, he was brilliantly smart, but he dropped out in senior year. he even managed to break your heart, the glittering prom queen, with the world at your fingertips. imagine your surprise three years later, when you find yourself stuck with him in med school. what's worse? he's actually super hot now!

PART II. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader genre tags and warnings reader is practically a blair waldorf prototype (filthy rich, a bit bratty, spoiled), bestfriend!gojo, background gojo x geto, mentions of blood and injuries, med school, MISCOMMUNICATION, angst and hurt, fluff, kissing and making out. sukuna and yuuji cameos.

word count. 17.5k! song inspiration. crush culture — conan gray

a/n. shameless med student insert i rlly projected my full heart and soul into the anatomy lab ick. art belongs to all respective artists [will add credit!] crossposted on ao3 💖

dedication. for my dear kashika, first of all happy (belated) birthday @kasukuna 💗 wanted this to coincide with ur day but i'm late, i fear!!! you hype me up so much, send the sweetest asks and you're so damn talented that i'm left begging for an ounce of your creativity and amazing mind! your fics are so witty and well thought out and i like to think that you've spawned an incredible dumbass!bf sukuna renaissance on jjk tumblr 😭 idk if you remember but i sent you an ask on creamflix so long ago like the start of december asking you to choose between characters and au's so i tried lifting this as verbatim as i could from ur answer <3 hope you had the most amazing day ever!!

mp3. ✶ crush culture makes me wanna spill my gut out, i know what you're doing! tryna get me to pursue ya <3

You refuse to speak to Gojo Satoru ever again. Not today, not tomorrow, not in this lifetime nor the next. He’s officially dead to you, figuratively, of course. Unfortunately.

The moment he stops cackling like a deranged hyena in the middle of your bedroom, you’re going to shove him out the door so hard that he’s going to see stars. You’ll block his number, you’ll delete every photo of his smug grin, and you’re going to hire an exorcist to cleanse his essence from your life.

Except right now, your best friend is sprawled across your bed, practically writhing as he gasps for air in between bouts of ridiculous, chipmunk-like squeals. He’s still in his uniform, having crashed at your place after school, with his white shirt untucked, sleeves pushed to his elbows and his tie dangling uselessly around his neck.

“You are such a child,” you grumble, shoving your sticker-laden journal off your lap with a huff, just so you can aim a precise kick at his ribs. Satoru wheezes dramatically, clutching his stomach like he’s just been mortally wounded in battle.

“It’s -” he’s snickering, slapping the fine-thread sheets with the fervour of one trying to summon a higher power, “It’s just too good. I – oh my god, I really can’t breathe! I think I’m going to pass out.”

Satoru’s rolling over dramatically, dark-tinted sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his hawkish nose, leaving him to look like a cherubic bird with a bad attitude.

“If only,” you mutter darkly, arms crossed over your own blazer as you glare daggers at the white-haired boy, “It’s not that funny.”

But Satoru just doesn’t listen, of course. His grin is wide enough to split his face in half, and every breath that he takes is another affront to your polished dignity, and every stupid wheeze is a reminder that you made the colossal mistake of trusting this man with classified information.

“Keep laughing,” you say, your tone low and menacing as you snatch your phone off your nightstand, “And see what happens when I play offence.”

That gets Satoru’s attention, as he freezes mid-snort. Grin faltering just enough to make you feel a small and petty thrill of satisfaction, “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” you say, already tapping away on your phone, scrolling past the ninety-nine notifications clogging Instagram. A certain raven-haired boy’s name hovers in your mind, one who shares the same initials as Gojo Satoru.

You’re not above sending a risky message.

Hey! Gojo’s been totally obsessed with you, ever since you bashed his head in with a spiral notebook back in seventh grade, and called him a spoilt, rich kid. He draws love hearts around your name every night. Just thought you should know, XOXO.

“Wait!” Satoru bolts upright so fast that his sunglasses fall into his lap, his grin morphing into a scowl as panic flashes in his too-blue eyes, “That’s playing dirty. Totally unfair.”

“You’re the one who laughed like a lunatic,” you say sweetly, tilting the phone towards him as if you’re about to hit send.

“You can’t be serious!” Satoru points a long, accusatory finger at you, his dramatic outrage undercut by the way his lips keep twitching, “I mean -” Another snicker escapes him as he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking again, “Like how? Of all people, you really have a crush on that guy.”

For a fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s too late to enrol in witness protection. It was clearly your mistake, deciding to tell Satoru critically sensitive information. Revealing the name of the boy that you were crushing on.

And yes, your type has turned out to be greasy Tim Burton reject loners who wander around school in faded Lord of the Rings hoodies.

You’re just totally head-over-heels for Choso Kamo.

“Whatever,” you snap, shoving your phone into the pocket of your school blazer with as much dignity as you can muster under the barrage of Satoru’s relentless cackles, “You wouldn’t understand?”

“Understand?” Satoru shifts himself with all the casual arrogance of someone who, unfortunately, has never been truly humbled in his life, propping himself against one of your enormous plush pillows.

The velvet squishes beneath his weight, gold embroidery bunching, but he’s utterly unbothered. “Enlighten me, we’re talking about the same Kamo right? The guy who sits behind you in class, and doesn’t so much blink in your direction? The one who looks like he’d rather gargle glass than talk to you?”

Another pillow sails across the bed before you even realise that you’ve hurled it. It strikes him square in the face, with a satisfying thwump! Muffling his laugh as he flails, tangled in thick, down stuffing.

“He’s just shy!” You insist, your voice rising as you get up to pace. Your Prada loafers click against the polished floor, before you kick them off. “And he only acts like that when others are around, by the way. He talks to me when it’s just us.”

“Oh, sure,” Satoru sits up, wrestling the pillow aside with a theatrical groan. His snowy hair sticks up at angles, like he’s been electrocuted, “That’s probably because he’s plotting his escape route while you corner him, like a lion closing in on its prey. Poor Kamo’s the gazelle.”

“Just know that I’m blowing you up in my mind.”

Satoru huffs, “So, what is your plan now? Are you going to ask him to prom? Are we going to see a proposal for the ages?”

You pause mid-pace, fighting the hot flush that creeps up your neck. It burns brighter as you glance towards the gilded vanity mirror, for that is exactly what you had wanted. You just needed to hear someone’s validation, “Should I?”

Satoru’s grin falters for a second, replaced with a look of sheer disbelief, “You’re kidding, right? That kid hates social events. You think he’s going to go with you?”

“Why not?” You’re fiddling with the crystal perfume decanters, the bottles of skincare on your vanity, “I’ve been dropping hints, okay? Subtle ones, all that manifesting shit.”

“Subtle?” Satoru snorts, “You mean letting half the football team pile bouquets into your locker? The locker that’s right next to his? Oh, yeah. Super low-key. Very humble.”

“At least I have options,” you snap back, flicking on the lights as the sun begins to sharpen its afternoon glare. Warm golden light spills across the room, catching on the ceiling-length silk drapes, “Meanwhile, I hope you end up alone at prom. Making ugly, kissy faces at Geto Suguru, while he’s with someone else.”

Satoru groans, like you’ve truly pierced his heart, “Cruel. So cruel when provoked,” but he’s propping himself back up on one elbow, “But hey, if you really do like Kamo, you know that makes him my future brother-in-law or something. That’s cool.”

Your gasp is sharp, scandalised, “Excuse me?”

“But think about it,” Satoru continues, ignoring your sputters, “You’re practically confirmed to be Prom Queen. Do you really want to drag that guy up on stage with you?”

“I think you’re being judgemental,” you mutter, tugging the drapes close and blocking out the faint twinkle of the city skyline, “He’d have to be insane not to say yes to me.”

“Someone is going to deflate that big head of yours one day,” Satoru says, and his voice has softened just enough to make you glance back at him, “You do know he cuts class a lot, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“I’m not being a bitch, I swear,” Satoru holds up his palms defensively, “He shows up for only half the month, you might want to check on your boy.”

You flop onto the chaise lounge, throwing an arm over your face tragically, “This isn’t the inspiring pep talk that I need right now.”

Satoru leans lazily against the gilded frame of your canopy bed, “Hey, it’s not my place to tell you what to do. But if you are that into him, then fine! Just ask him to prom and see what happens. And tell you what? If you ask Kamo, I’ll ask Suguru.”

You narrow your eyes, “Wow, this must be serious if you’re out here wheeling and dealing like this. Are you feeling okay?”

Satoru presses a dramatic hand to his chest, his grin morphing into something faux-solemn, “Cross my heart. I’m making a binding vow, like, it’s unbreakable. Life or death.”

“Deal,” you quickly say, ignoring the sudden leap of your pulse, because there’s no way that you’re letting him see how the sudden time-pressure is making your stomach twist into ugly knots. You point towards the door with a flourish, “And as much as I love our time together, I need to get ready. So…out! Chop-chop.”

Satoru groans like you’ve just asked him to drag a boulder uphill with his teeth, slumping off your bed in exaggerated defeat. He sluggishly reaches for his discarded backpack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder, “I still don’t get why you bother with working. You and I both know that we don’t need it,” he mutters, as if the concept of responsibility personally offends him.

“It’s just babysitting,” you gently correct, shrugging on a cashmere cardigan from the back of your chair, “And anyway, you know I need a well-rounded list of extracurriculars for Pre-Med.”

“I’d rather eat my sunglasses, one lens at a time,” Satoru shoots back, adjusting said sunglasses squarely over his face, “Instead of being stuck babysitting brats all evening. We’re not meant to be saints.”

“It’s just one kid tonight. New family, new house,” you reply, grabbing your bag where it rests by the vanity, “Anyway, I expect a full report on your prom date by tomorrow, Satoru. I’m not forgetting that vow.”

Satoru pauses in the doorway, with the edges of his grin sharpened into something that makes you pity Geto Suguru in advance, “I never disappoint.”

You had finally managed to shove Satoru out of the doorway, his obnoxious laughter echoing faintly down the hall. The quiet that follows is a relief, albeit short-lived. You’re left standing in the stillness of your room, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the text with the address of tonight’s gig.

Honestly, Satoru might have a point. You, the only child of one of the country’s most obscenely wealthy families, babysitting? It’s not like you’re chasing pocket money or trying to build character. But medical school applications don’t only care about your bank account, there’s so many extra boxes to tick. Factors like being selfless or dedicated to the community.

The request had been odd from the start. Some child had called you himself, and normally, it’s the frazzled parents who handle that kind of task. His voice had been small, but determined, saying that his brother was out, and he needed a sitter for the evening. Something about the earnestness of it had softened you, though, now you were starting to regret the whole thing — seeing how far out this house was from your own penthouse.

Showing up in the Bentley with tinted windows and your chauffeur had felt a little off brand for this role. So, in the name of relatability, you had popped a piece of cherry gum and a book, taking on the bus. The sticky seats and questionable patrons had almost been enough to make you reconsider, but the suburb itself offered a strange charm.

It was quiet here, too quiet, the kind of place that might have once been picturesque, but it had gone soft around the edges. The homes were older, cozy but tired, with paint peeling in places and lawns that were overrun with weeds. You wrinkle your nose as you step off the bus, weaving through tufts of stubborn greenery and abandoned toys in the yard.

The house that you’re looking for stands a little crooked, but sturdy. It’s faded shutters are barely hanging on, and a basketball hoop leans precariously over the driveway. There’s a small, red toy car that’s entirely faded and scratched, sitting forgotten near the porch steps.

Just as your knuckles hover over the worn wood of the front door, it swings open with such force that you nearly stumble backwards. A blur of motion catches you off guard, and you’re suddenly face-to-face with a tiny, pink-haired whirlwind.

The boy’s grinning up at you, wide and gap-toothed, with big golden eyes. His hair is wild, a fluffy crown of rosy strands over a dark undercut, and his scraped knees are haphazardly patched up with dinosaur bandages.

“Wait here! I’m going to get my brother!” He chirps, his voice bright and slightly whistly, thanks to the missing tooth. Before you can get a word in, he’s gone, sprinting back inside with the energy of an overeager puppy, leaving you stranded on the porch.

You shuffle awkwardly, glancing down at the scratched paint on the doorframe. There was something endearing about the child, and you’re starting to feel less apprehensive. That is, until the door opens again, and time slows.

Your heart stutters, skips, and then plummets. As if someone’s dropped you into an industrial freezer. Standing there, with one hand resting lightly on the kid’s shoulder, and an expression that’s one part confusion and one part disbelief, is Choso Kamo.

It’s as if the universe has conspired against you, playing its most cruel and ridiculous joke yet. Tall and broad, with tired eyes that sweep over you in slow recognition. Dark mark twitching across his face, like a deliberate smudge of ink.

Choso’s blinking, startled to see you here, though his usual stoic expression has yet to crack. Meanwhile, your inner monologue is screaming a symphony of pure panic. You can already heal Satoru’s stupid squeals in your head.

The pink-haired boy tugs on Choso’s arm, “See, I got a babysitter! Isn’t that cool?”

Choso glances down at the kid, then back at you, his lips parting as if to speak.

“Uh, hey,” you manage. The picture of eloquence, the master of the verbose elite.

It strikes you, with almost absurd clarity, that you’ve never seen Choso outside the campus bubble. No dim library corners, no lab tables cluttered with textbooks, or heavy beat-up laptops parked in front of him. Gone are the oversized hoodies thrown over his school uniform, or the baggy jeans he dons when he forgoes the dress code entirely. Instead, he’s here, standing in the soft glow of the broken porch light, wearing a loose black tee and dark track pants.

His chestnut hair is free from the two greasy, spiky knots that he favours on his head, falling softer around his face. Your traitorous heart lurches, feeling a sharp pang of betrayal.

“You’re the babysitter?” Choso’s voice cuts through your spiral. Raspy as always, roughened like rock salt, but there’s something else threaded into the question. A flicker of irritation, and confusion. As if he’s struggling to reconcile you, with the person standing on his doorstep.

“You didn’t know when you booked?” You shoot back, aiming for casual indifference, but landing somewhere closer to petulant. Your eyes flick to the box he’s holding, with contents that glint faintly in the light. Suspiciously metallic, as if he’s cradling surgical tools.

Choso follows your curious gaze, exhaling sharply, and shifting the box to a nearby table, just out of your line of sight.

“I didn’t book,” he grunts, “Told Yuuji to check the ads, and pick one.”

“And I picked the best one!” The delighted chirp comes from behind Choso, as Yuuji reappears, practically bouncing with a sunny grin. His golden eyes are locked on the ribbon-wrapped box in your hands, and his expression is lit up with unabashed glee.

You glance down at the box, containing an array of decadent artisan doughnuts. Saffron glaze, coconut cream, pistachio and chocolate. All from that impossibly chic Swiss patisserie downtown. You ignore the dull ache building between your eyes, smiling as you hand the box over, “These are for you, little man.”

Yuuji’s already snapping his hands for the box, as though you had just delivered a treasure chest of gold doubloons, “Can I have one? Please? Pretty-please?”

Choso glances down at him with a long-suffering look that somehow manages to carry an undertone of fondness, “Just one,” he warns, his voice dry but warm, “For now.”

Yuuji doesn’t need to be told twice, bolting towards the kitchen and clutching the box to his chest like a sacred relic. The faint sound of icing being smacked off fingers echoes from somewhere around the corner.

Choso watches him go, before turning back to you, his posture easing slightly. “That was nice of you,” he says, his voice softer now, almost tentative, “But he’s going to crash hard after that sugar high. Good luck.”

You wave off his scepticism with a breezy smile, “I’m good with kids. I’ll manage.”

For a moment, the boy’s expression shifts. Something fleeting and unreadable flickers across his face, a hint of thoughtfulness or something heavier.

Another thought gnaws at the edges of your mind, a tiny spectre of dread wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s smug grin. Two hours ago, though it feels like a lifetime now, you made a pact.

You ask Kamo, I’ll ask Suguru.

At the time, it had seemed like an impossible bluff. But the thing about Satoru is that he’s infuriatingly reliable when he sets his mind to something. No matter the cost.

Which is why you’re here now, sweating under your cashmere sweater. The fabric is suddenly too soft, too warm, clinging to the nape of your neck. You, with half the school population ready to pen sonnets just for a chance to take you to prom. Jocks, debate captains, the crème de la crème of eligible dates. All overlooked in favour of the quiet boy that no-one seems to notice.

The boy whose locker was assigned right next to yours, empty and cold steel. While yours was glittered with Polaroids, and pastel sticky notes, and the occasional folded love letter. The boy that everyone said had no friends, but he was easily the uncontested valedictorian. The boy that you desperately wanted to ask to prom.

Choso is shuffling papers on the table, avoiding your gaze like it’s a laser beam. His movements are slow, and deliberate, but there’s an edge of tension in the way his fingers linger on a set of silver keys, before he slips them into his pocket.

“What?” His voice breaks the quiet, low and rough like gravel underfoot. It startles you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Nothing,” you blurt out, far too quickly. You’re grasping at straws to keep the conversation going, “Where are you headed?”

Choso hesitates, a slight hitch in his movements, picking that cardboard box again. For a moment, you think he’s going to ignore your question, but then he mutters, “Work.”

You tilt your head, your curiosity outweighing your better judgement to never press Choso Kamo for more than two sentences in a conversation.

He shifts uncomfortable, and you catch a glimpse of latex gloves tucked neatly inside before he angles it out of view, “I…clean up things,” he says finally, his tone clipped as though every word is a concession, “Errands. I’m a cleaner.”

The kind of response that’s designed to kill conversation in its track. It’s vague, annoyingly so, but you let it slide, “Oh.”

You’re this close to spontaneously combusting. The pact, the reason that your hands shake when you catch yourself staring at Choso Kamo for just a second too long. It’s either now or never. Rip the band-aid before your central nervous system completely betrays you and implodes.

Objectively speaking, you’re a real catch. Second-best grades in the cohort, from an old business dynasty that rivalled the Youngs from Crazy Rich Asians, two-time prom queen with med-school practically knocking on the door. Yeah, a dream. College applications adored you. Surely, Choso would have had to be running on a clone’s brain stitched into his head to say no.

Yet, somehow, it doesn’t make your heart beat any less erratically. It doesn’t erase the hollow pit that’s clawing at your insides. And now, you’re wishing that you had asked for advice from someone with an ounce of finesse. Like Shoko, or Utahime. Not your best friend who called himself The Honoured One.

You clear your throat, the taste of artificial cherry gum still lingering, “So, are you going to prom?”

Choso snorts, the sound entirely dismissive. But he seems to realise that you’re not joking, flicking you a glance, like he’s deciding to humour you, “What’s it to you? Need me to vote for you to be prom queen?”

You roll your eyes, fighting the flush creeping up your Burberry sweater, “Didn’t I already ask you to do that, like, two months ago?”

His lips twitch, barely, like he’s holding a smile back under layers of indifference, “Yeah. You pestered me three times. And I actually did it.”

You latch onto the softer tone in his voice, “So, are you going to go, then?” You’re watching him, almost desperate for a sign, for anything other than no.

Choso’s shoulders tense, “Can’t.”

“Can’t?” The word slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, incredulous, “What do you mean can’t? Why? You need to study or something?” You’re trying so hard to sound indifferent, like you’ve got a roster of dates lined up. And well, you do. But this is the only one that you want. The panic creeping into your voice betrays you before you even realise it.

“No,” Choso replies, his tone quieter, “I really just can’t go.”

A weight drops in your stomach, heavy and cold. Is this what rejection feels like? The thought hits like a wave, leaving you breathless. Your heart’s flipping in your chest like it’s teetering on the edge of cliff, seconds away from freefalling into nothing.

You inhale sharply, steeling yourself for the words that are about to spill out.

“I want you to be my date for prom.” “I can’t go because I dropped out.”

The words slam into each other, and for a moment, everything freezes. Choso’s mouth has fallen open, the curve of his lips slack with shock. As though as someone’s hit the pause button on him, mid-thought. You blink at him, your brain becoming a skipping CD. Round and round, never quite catching the beat.

“What did you just say?” Your brows knit together in a sharp pinch, like your face can’t decide whether to wince or frown. But Choso just grimace, lips curling into a tight line as his shoulders stiffen.

“You first.”

Your fingers fidget around the cream Van Cleef that rests on your throat, tracing the cool edge of the pendant. It’s one of your mother’s newer gifts, the kind that comes with all the frills and none of the warmth. Her true transactional brand of maternal affection.

“I wanted to ask if you’d go to prom with me, as my date,” It spills out of you in a jumbling mess, like you’re tripping vowels and consonants over each other. Choso’s eyes widen, but you barrel on before he can interrupt, “I mean, I get it if you think it’s lame or boring, or you just don’t want to go. But I promise my friends are actually really nice, and you can sit with us.” The rest of your monologue trails off, crumbling to dust, “I just really wanted to ask you.”

You wish to sink into the floor, like the soft earth will swallow you whole. You can almost picture Satoru’s ridiculous proposal to Geto Suguru, no doubt involving fireworks or an airplane trailing a banner.

The air is so still, you can hear the faint crackling of Yuuji’s incessant doughnut quest from across the small house, his movements clumsy and unintentionally loud as he rips open cellophane for more than one sweet treat.

Choso’s shifting slightly, and there’s a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. The pink hue is a stark contrast to his usual sickly pallor. Even his ears are a shade darker, and his jaw tightens like he’s chewing on something bitter and struggling to swallow it down. It’s hard to tell if he’s upset or just lost. Or somewhere in-between.

“You wanted to go with me?” His voice is low, hoarse, like the idea is too outlandish for him to even process. You don’t know whether to laugh or apologise.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can manage, your throat suddenly dry and tight.

“I dropped out of school two days ago,” Choso mutters, as he runs a hand through his dark hair. He’s glancing at you, with the ghost of an apology flickering across his expression, but the shock that you can’t seem to mask makes him wince, “Look, it’s not a big deal. And it’s nice that you asked, but…”

“Dropped out? Like, entirely out of school?” Your voice cracks, each word climbing higher like you’re stepping on a broken escalator, “Why? What happened?”

Never let anyone tell you that teenage love is simple, or wholesome. Full of first crushes, and sweet moments. Because this? It feels like someone ripped the floor out from under you, the air yanked from your lungs, leaving you stranded. And it’s not a pleasant feeling, being denied something that you want, for the first time in your life.

Choso shrugs, like he’s been answering this question a thousand times already. Though, you’re sure that this is the first time he’s said it to out loud to anyone, “Family stuff. Just had to.”

You try to piece this together, for this house does smell faintly of stale coffee, and the worn leather of the couch has clearly seen better days. You can tell, on some level, that something is off. That there’s no parental figure in sight for little Yuuji, just the harsh edges of whatever it is that Choso seems to carry on his own.

You can feel the words bubbling up again, stupid and reckless, “But you know you just can’t leave. You’ve got the top marks in the class, Choso. And you know that you were on a scholarship, right? For one of the most elite schools in the country? How are you ever going to get that again?”

The second they leave your mouth; you hear how self-righteous and insensitive you sound. You already regret it, almost reaching up to slap your hands over your face.

Choso’s expression darkens, his face tightens. Like a storm cloud rolling in, as his lips pull into a tight and angry line, “Back off,” he snaps, voice suddenly sharp enough to cut, “You don’t know a damn thing about my life.”

His sneer twists, not with malice, but something deeper. Harder, like he’s being chewed up by all the things he never got to say before, “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure they’ll make a big, shiny tiara for when they name you valedictorian. Maybe, it’ll match your prom dress.”

“Hey!” Your eyes well up, stupid heat of tears prickling behind your eyes, and swelling a thick lump in your throat, “That’s not what I meant.” You cannot believe that you’re tearing up, over this. Over wanting something that you can’t have, and someone who seems to have more to lose than you ever thought possible.

Choso’s lip curls into a half-sneer, but there’s a flicker of something else there. His posture shifts, as if he’s trying to fold in on himself. He lowers his voice, still low and uncomfortable, but careful. Careful, because his little brother is just down the hall.

“I don’t need your pity, okay? Or your help.” His fingers grip the metal of the net door, “I have to go now. Just look after Yuuji.”

The heavy clang of steel on mesh echoes in your ears, sharp and final. The sound lingers like a ringing in your skull as you stand there, utterly paralysed as your mind scrambles to catch up with the wreckage of what just happened. Your five-year crush crashing down in five minutes.

Your feet move, and you find yourself in the bare dining room. Yuuji’s perched at the table, with a doughnut half-eaten in his hand, a mess of pistachio cream smeared across his chin like a brave trooper. There’s an iPad, an old, scratched model, with a silicone tiger case, propped up in front of him. The screen is flashing with something, like blueberries. Bouncing in time with some peppy tune.

“Did Choso leave for work?” Yuuji asks, utterly oblivious to the emotional landmine that his brother left in your hands. His eyes are wide, curious, the innocence of a kid who still thinks the world works in neat, little boxes.

“Yeah,” you say, forcing a smile, “He works a lot, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Yuuji mumbles through a mouthful of pastry, sugar clinging to his lips, “He always gets upset when Uncle Kuna’ calls him in. Even after school.”

Choso has never mentioned an uncle. Or a brother, for that matter. But then again, why would he? You had never even asked for his number, never bothered to learn anything beyond what was right in front of you. You realise, with a strange pang of guilt, that you’ve built your entire image of infatuation with Choso, from incomplete sketches. Filling in the blanks with whatever fits into the tiny box you’ve kept him in.

“Hey, do you have Netflix?” Yuuji’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bright and eager. “I want to watch How to Train Your Dragon. It’s Fushiguro and Kugisaki’s favourite movie!”

The names are unfamiliar, but Yuuji’s excitement is infectious. You cannot help but smile at the boy, his messy hair and too-big shirt. It’s hard not to be fond of such a kid. You take the iPad from his sticky hands, logging into the app. All the while, chasing yourself around mentally with a baseball bat for the biggest fumble of the century.

If last night felt like a disaster, this morning was just the encore performance. And you were the unwilling star. Just the effort of peeling yourself out of bed felt like an Olympic event. And facing your reflection of swollen eyes and blotchy skin felt like punishment for sins that were way out of your paygrade.

Reluctantly, you’re tugging on your blazer, and clipping a barrette into your hair. There’s a sparkling, diamond tennis bracelet fastened around your wrist. All little things that you need to don like armour, to face your senior year, the student population and the empty locker that would remain untouched next to yours.

Satoru and Shoko are the first faces that you spot in the crowd, and Satoru’s practically bouncing down the hall, “Oh, yeah, I got it locked in,” he announces, cheeks flushed with an absurdly boyish grin, “I got it in the bag.”

He’s sliding his sunglasses down just enough to peer at you, wordlessly handing you his coffee cup, as is your morning ritual. The overly sweet, creamy warmth does nothing to ease the ache in your chest, and your lip-gloss stains the edge of the paper.

“What about you, eh?” Satoru chirps, but you must look blatantly devasted. Because your best friend’s grin falters, the corners of his mouth pulling down.

“Wait, you’re joking right?” His voice is marred with disbelief, and his eyes scan the hall like he’s trying to spot someone’s dark head of hair, “Where is he? Jughead Jones lookin’ ass? Shoko, do you know where Choso Kamo sits? Because I’m going to give him a real piece of my mind and —”

You cut him off, abruptly shoving the coffee back into his warm hands, “It’s fine. He dropped out school, anyway.”

Shoko hums beside you, her fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of cinnamon-brown hair. The chipped polish on her nails catches the fluorescent light, “Prom queen and valedictorian in one year? Not a bad run for you.”

You glare at her, and Shoko’s doe-eyed expression softens. The breeze from the open window catches her sleek hair, making it sway gently, and she shifts. Voice dropping to something quieter, more thoughtful, “That really does suck, though. Sorry.” She sounds like she means it now, her usual flippancy up in smoke, “I didn’t even know you liked him like that. Not until Gojo told me, like, two hours ago.”

Your eyes snap to Satoru who, for once, has the good sense to shut his mouth.

Shoko’s voice is subdued, “I wonder if it had anything to do with him being called into admin.”

“Wait, when?” Satoru interrupts. He’s taking another long slurp of his sweet mocha, the froth giving him whiskers.

“Three days ago,” Shoko shrugs, “Some big guy rolled up to the office. Demanded to see the principal. No idea who he was, but he was important. And rich. Like you need to be super wealthy to call the shots in a school for the children of the top one percent.”

You must look tragic, because even Shoko pauses mid-chew. Her lollipop moving from one side of her mouth to the other. She looks at you, really looks at you. You can see the careful shift in her demeanour, as though she’s considering the most diplomatic answer that she can offer you to avoid making things worse.

“Well, you don’t have to go to prom with anyone, right?” Satoru says, the words hanging awkwardly in the air like a balloon that’s just lost its helium. His consolation is well-meaning, but a bit clueless. But now, his sunglasses are perched atop his head now, leaving his eyes exposed. Icy blue, framed by lashes so long that they practically flirt with his eyebrows. For once, there’s a flicker of real concern in them, clouds passing over clear skies.

“I know,” you gripe, your voice flat as you find yourself glaring at a group of juniors who are skipping by, with their phones out in unison, clicking away like it’s a competition. Fantastic. You can already see the gossip Instagram stories by lunch, wondering what happened to you. Rumours milling about the reason for your glum expression.

Shoko shifts her heavy bag onto her shoulder, patting your arm. “I’ll see you at lunch. My treat,” she says, turning her heel for the Chemistry building. Leaving you alone with Satoru, as Shoko quickly picks her pace up to catch her Honours class.

“So,” you start, keeping your eyes on him out of the corner of your vision, watching how his fingers twitch around the coffee cup, “How did it go with Geto Suguru?”

Satoru’s shifting, as though he’s trying not gloat, but clearly bursting to tell you, “It was nice,” which is an unusually subdued, sensitive explanation from Satoru. The one who can take five hours to tell a story that you could wrap up in ten minutes. “He was really friendly. More than I thought he would be.”

“That is nice.” You’re forcing some perk back into your voice, but it comes out rather weak, “Like, genuinely.”

Satoru crumples the empty cup in his hand, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Then, he shoots you a sharper look, “Did you actually talk to Choso, like, in-person? How did that go?”

You exhale, “Turns out I was babysitting his little brother,” and Satoru’s eyes widen slightly, “He was fine. And then he wasn’t. I asked him to be my date, and told me he dropped out. I said something…stupid. And now he’s going to hate me forever.”

Satoru stares at you, his gaze sharp, as though he’s dissecting you. And you swear that he can see right through your skin, right into your bones. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe your best friend has a sixth sense, some secret radar for picking up on these things.

“Wow,” he murmurs, a touch of something in his voice, “It really got you bad, huh?”

You bristle, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment flooding your chest. You’re straightening your shoulders, but it’s all too obvious and so fucking frustrating, “Yeah, well, I don’t even know why it matters so much.” The bite in your voice is more directed at yourself, than him.

Satoru doesn’t flinch, just tilts his head, and he’s quiet. It’s a weird look on him, soft concern, “You genuinely really liked him that much?”

The truth sticks to your throat as your chest tightens, and your eyes blur. It would be nice to tell Satoru that you didn’t really care that much. That it was never fully that serious, but the lie won’t leave your lips. The lump in your throat is palpable, and all you can do is sniffle, “Yeah. I did.”

“Do you want to cry?” Satoru’s voice is gentle enough to catch you off guard.

You open your mouth to retort, something sharp and defensive. But before you know it, tears spill as your chest constricts. It’s sudden, like a storm that breaks on the horizon.

And just like that, your best friend pulls you into him. For once, the wild energy that crackles off him is gone, replaced by something quieter and more unwavering. You can feel his shoulder under your cheek, soft and warm, salt staining the expensive fabric. And if anyone does see you sob into Gojo Satoru’s arms, while the white-haired boy pats your back, no one says a word.

But to borrow a line from Bangtan Sonyeondan, life goes on. The next few months slip by like the kind of indie film that you’d see at film festival. It’s bittersweet, and there’s a melancholy that everyone can taste in the air, especially as you all realise that this last blue spring of youth is slipping through fingers like sand.

In this haze of time, you discover a few things that you didn’t expect. For instance, Geto Suguru is, in fact, far more than the tall and brooding figure that you once shrugged off. He’s the stillness to Satoru’s sharper teeth, the quiet that counters the blue eye of the storm. He’s soft-spoken, with an easy patience that tempers Satoru’s edges. He’s become a bit of a constant presence, as they always bicker and makeup in a sort of perpetual cycle.

Spring arrives like a first kiss. It’s hesitant, not rushing in. Just tiptoes around you, tentative enough as it coaxes you out of winter’s gloom. Before the flurry of sparkly gowns and speeches, there’s Utahime’s birthday to celebrate. It’s supposed to be a relaxed affair, she insists that she has no desire for fuss. But you all show up anyway, surprising her with a giant, pastel cake that takes up nearly half the table.

Her laugh is loud, and carefree, mixing with the salt of the ocean breeze on this beach trip. Her black hair whips around her face, even as she blushes at the attention. She’s protesting, but it’s swallowed by laugher, by the sound of waves breaking against the shores.

The awards and titles are all well and good, prom queen and valedictorian. A shiny, little stamp on your high school resume, a golden ticket to the next chapter of your life. But when anyone brings it up, or someone presses too hard on the subject, you shift uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the edge of your pre-med acceptance letter like it just might tear under the pressure of your grip. No-one talks about how you’ve been visiting your locker less and less.

Satoru, of course, loudly denies crying at graduation, even as salty, shiny tears tack to his cheeks. They’re practically immortalised in every digital snapshot that you take. But for now, he’s too busy wrapping everyone in a bear hug, clutching the group that it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. Nanami’s already peeling him off, shaking his head with a worn sigh.

It's late in the morning after the graduation ceremony, as you all pile into cars, driving to a riverside café. It’s one of those places where people with money go to prove that they have money, to prove that even their breakfasts are above the meals of the common folk. But you all sit there, with the graduation ribbons still pinned to your lapels. There’s the debate over who cried the most during the ceremony (Gojo, easily, though Haibara is a close second) and who’s the one who peaked in high school. Everyone unanimously votes for Geto, who sulks as he tosses his hair out of his face, ever the drama queen.

“Bullshit,” he’s grumbling, “Just you wait. You’ll see what I accomplish in ten years.”

Satoru grins, all teeth and lazy confidence, “Yeah, what? You’re going to start running a pyramid scheme cult?”

Utahime’s voice cuts through the chatter, her white ribbon flouncing as she leans towards you, blinking at the empty space in front of you, “Where’s your food?”

You wave her off with a smile, “It’s fine. You guys can go ahead and start, I’ll just go and check.”

You hear Satoru choke around a mouthful of food, already bulldozing half his way through his plate like a bottomless pit.

There’s a pretty glass display at the front, filled with delicate chiffon cakes that glisten in the soft light. You wonder if you should have just ordered one, perhaps to share with Nanami. You know he likes desserts like this.

“Can I help you?”

Your pulse stutters as you bite your tongue, heart crashing against the rocks. You soothe your tongue over the tang of iron that blooms in your mouth from the stupidly familiar voice.

Choso Kamo.

You’d like to say that he looks good, but the truth is, he doesn’t. The hollows beneath his eyes are far more accentuated than you remember, and his hair is pulled back into a messy knot at the back of his head. Even his pale skin has taken on a sicklier pallor than usual.

“Hello?” His voice cuts through the silence, sharper this time, carrying an edge that takes you by surprise.

“Oh, uh, hey. Choso. Just wanted to check on my order,” you say, like it’s a poor prelude to small talk. It sounds far too chipper, almost artificial.

Choso’s expression tightens immediately, in an ill-omen. It’s as if he’s irritated that you even have the nerve to recognise him, to stand there in his space. He doesn’t meet your gaze, his attention flicking back to the screen in front of him with a quickness that almost feels deliberate.

“Hello.” He’s muttering back, more out of obligation than any real interest. Like it’s a formality.

The sharp, hollow feeling in your chest expands, deeper than you’re willing to admit. The last time you saw him, you had been standing at his door, and he had slammed it in your face.

“What are you doing here?” Your question is clumsy, hanging in the air, and far too intrusive for a stranger.

“What?” Choso doesn’t even look up. But then he does, just briefly, his gaze flicking to yours with the same disinterest. He shrugs, as though the query is too trivial for any answer.

“It’s just…it’s been a while, yeah?” You’re not quite sure how to word and I want to know how you’ve been.

“I’m fine,” Choso replies quickly, dismissing your question with a wave of his pale hand, “Just working around here and there.”

It’s offbeat, landing wrong. You don’t think it’s unfair to think that everyone expected more of him. One of the smartest, most brilliant minds in your cohort, who had been a shoo-in for medicine, alongside you.

The bustle of patrons behind you intensifies, but you stubbornly dig your heels into the polished tile, “How’s Yuuji?”

The mention of his younger brother softens him, just a little. A small, bashful smile tugs at the corner of Choso’s pink lips, hesitant, like he doesn’t quite know how to let it show, “He’s good. Says you were the ‘bestest’ babysitter that he ever had. Even asks about you sometimes.”

You fight the urge to smile too openly, not wanting to seem too affected by the gentleness that suddenly lingers in the space between you two, “I’m glad. And…are you still working for your uncle?”

It’s as if you’ve thrown a switch, causing all the warmth to evaporate from his features. His jaw tightens, as his brow furrows. Settling a coldness over his expression, “Who the fuck told you that?”

You blink, surprised at the sudden harshness of his words. “Yuuji mentioned it,” you murmur, quieter now, careful. The hesitation in your voice isn’t feigned, and you realise you’ve broken the golden rule of ‘never push Choso Kamo about his personal life.’

Choso doesn’t seem keen on letting you explain, as his glare cuts through you, “If you wanted to snoop into my life, just ask me your stupid questions, okay? Don’t drag my little brother into it.”

The accusation lands like a slap, stinging you more than you expected, “What? I wasn’t snooping,” you insist, defences flaring open, “He told me that himself. I didn’t even ask him anything, and I didn’t ask anything else!”

He just stares at you, eyes burnished and unreadable, but he seems mollified by your answer. Like he knows that your explanation is sincere, but the chasm is nigh impossible to bridge, “Sure. Okay.”

You don’t know how to respond, opening your mouth to ask what on earth has made him so unreasonable. To dig the tips of your almond nails into his long sleeves, and demand that he treats you as adoringly as everyone else in your life does. But he interrupts you first, “Your order’s coming.”

Choso’s tone is clipped, colder. As though he’s already moved on, “And I’ve got a lot of other customers to serve. Nice seeing you again, or whatever.”

A dismissal, if there ever was one. The embarrassment rushes up your neck, hot and insistent, but you bite your tongue. You let your heels clack a little more loud than necessary, as you stomp away. You’re swivelling your head to deliver a final, withering stare but his gaze is no longer on you.

Choso’s looking at the table where everyone is sitting. Where your friends are laughing, leaning into one another as they snap their final graduation photos. Where Geto has his lips pressed to Satoru’s cheek in a rare display of affection, arms linked with Shoko and Utahime. Where even Nanami’s smiling, the sunlight leafing through his golden waves of thick hair.

There’s no anger in Choso’s eyes, or even that solitary, brooding stare. He looks almost…sad. Profoundly sorrowful, in a deep and aching way that makes your anger dissipate.

He’s looking at your friends, at their graduation certificates stacked in sleeves on the table, as though he’s lost something that he never had. It aches your chest tightly, a knot pulling at your heart.

Once, he was Choso Kamo — the quiet boy you liked in school. Then, he became Choso from the café. Soon, he'll be someone whose name you won't even remember in a few years, someone who's path you'll probably never cross again.

You find yourself blinking furiously, feeling as though you've just lost something yourself, but you fight back the salt that threatens to blur your vision before your friends see.

THREE YEARS LATER.

Your day had started off deceptively well, like a glass of water poured perfectly. Clear, refreshing, with no chance of spilling. The sun was shining, your skin looked like it was having its best day, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. But of course, it didn’t take long for things to spiral, as they tend to do.

It was like playing a real-life Sisyphus game, except instead of a boulder, it was a series of small, dumb annoyances that you couldn’t dodge fast enough.

First, Satoru had texted to cancel lunch. And to be fair, you weren’t that bothered. He had been talking all week about a world-renowned professor dropping in on his fourth-years Honours class, something about nuclear engineering. And you knew that Satoru lived for anything involving theoretical mass and explosions.

Then, your favourite tote bag had decided it was done with you. The strap had snapped off with a surprising, sudden violence. Your beautiful new water bottle had hit the floor with a sickening, metallic thud. Pens rolled across the tiles like little soldiers. You had been kneeling, already late for class, muttering curses under your breath when your phone had rung.

Your mother.

And you already knew that tone well enough, that voice that could cut through steel.

“You missed the charity dinner? You know how embarrassing it is for your father and I to come up with excuses, just to explain your absence —”

Yeah, like you had personally insulted her by choosing to study for your exams, instead of milling around an event hall. You tried to explain, but it was like trying to explain Satoru’s quantum physics to the wall. Totally pointless, and not worth your time and energy. And naturally, her tone escalated, because that’s what she just tended to do. Nevermind that she was calling from some ritzy hotel in Europe, crackling over the phone.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the course coordinator paged you in for a meeting. You were still in your first few weeks of medicine, so you had been scratching your brain for what he could have possibly wanted, snapping gum as you rushed and clacked up stone steps, breezing through campus.

Now, here you were. Standing in front of his desk with your arms crossed, almost petulantly. The room smelled like old coffee, and expired textbooks as the man coughed, leaning back against his desk, littered with academic transcripts and stacked envelopes.

“Look, there’s no denying that you’re one of our most brilliant students. All the tutors and lecturers admire your work ethic,” and the professor stopped, and you grimaced. Ah, here it comes.

“But, you’ve chosen Ieiri Shoko as your partner for the past three years, am I correct in saying this?” His dark eyes are narrowed behind wiry glasses, as you frowned.

“Yes.”

Shoko had practically excelled in Pre-Med alongside you, surviving late night study rants, extreme caffeine dependency, and textbook-induced breakdowns.

“You work together well,” the coordinator adds, looking like he was trying to make this sound like a compliment, “But you need to branch out. Develop your versatility. In a noble field, such as medicine, it’s important to be able to work with others. Not rule and conquer.”

You blink at him, “Branch out? I don’t know how else to say this, but I don’t like anyone else in my class. And Shoko and I are easily the best.”

He ignores your comments, “So, I’ve thought it better to move you to a new stream. Instead of Tuesday’s clinical practice, I’ll have you attend the Thursday session, starting today. There’s a new partner for you, and I assure you, he is just as competent as Ieiri Shoko,”

You doubt it. No-one can handle the sight of infected perineum stitches like Shoko can.

It seems there’s only one card left for you to pull, “My grandfather paid for this entire wing of the building. His name is on the plaque outside.”

The coordinator doesn’t even budge, “That may be true. But you still need to grow. You will never learn if you just continue to stick with what is familiar.”

You leave the office with a sour taste in your mouth, clutching the crisp sheet of paper that’s already being emailed to your student account, no doubt.

“Collaboration,” you’re muttering under your breath, “Building character, my ass.” You’re squinting at the page, trying to decipher the name of your new stream partner, but it’s obscured by a hastily scribbled note with your classroom change.

The faint ache in your neck refuses to budge, and you roll your shoulders with a sigh. Pushing through the double doors to the anatomy facility. Immediately, the frigid air bites at your cheeks, sharp and unwelcome. These buildings always feel like high-tech mausoleums, with tables lined up like gleaming altars. Surfaces cold enough to numb your fingertips if you’re careless.

The faint, cloying scent of formaldehyde hangs in the air, sharp and chemical. It’s supposed to preserve the cadavers, but it has the unfortunate side effect of making your stomach growl at the worst times. Hunger, and embalming fluid. A combination so disgusting that you try not to dwell on it for too long.

Your lab coat is rubbing uncomfortably against your arms, and your Loewe sweater is bunched awkwardly around your elbows. It’s a long-suffering sigh that echoes the hall as you shove the heavy barred doors to the classroom.

The tutor is a stalk-like man, with perpetually knitted brows, glancing up at you as you enter, “Ah, yes. The transfer,” he’s brisk with it, “Got the note about you moving to my Thursday stream. Just sit over there, for now. Yeah, there. Your partner should be along soon. If he’s a no-show, I’ll reassign you to a different table.”

You nod wordlessly, scanning the room as you head to your non-descript, assigned corner. The faces at the other tables blur together, some curious and others indifferent. Most focused on pushing worksheets under steel clipboards.

Great. A room full of strangers with all the warmth of wet cardboard.

Sliding into your plastic seat, you pull your notebook out and flip it open, the pages crinkling and echoing in the too-quiet room. It’s a minute, maybe two of shifting uncomfortably in your chair, feeling the awkward hollowness of sitting alone at a two-person station. But the door swings open with a groaning creak.

“Perfect! Full class today, that’s what I like to see. Just head to your usual spot, and I’ll start passing the models around.”

You glance up, squinting at the figure who’s broad enough to cause a solar eclipse of the fluorescent light.

“Get out,” you blurt.

“This is my class,” Choso Kamo stares at you, equally bewildered. His bronze eyes widen briefly, flickering from your face to the lab tables, to the unaware tutor.

“Don’t care. Get out,” you scowl, speechless for a moment, “No. Don’t sit. This is my assigned stream. Don’t tell me that you’re my —”

“Partner?” Choso finishes for you, deadpan.

“Of all the people in this entire school —”

“I’m starting to feel offended,” Choso cuts in, already pulling out the chair beside you, and slinging his bag down with an air of resignation.

“What are you doing here?”

Choso’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t quite smile, “I’m getting an education. Obviously.”

Your gaze flickers away from his unfairly handsome face, following the motion of his hand as he shifts. There’s a single black hair tie, looped around his wrist.

But something just does not add up for you. This isn’t just any medical program. It’s the kind of rigorous, cutthroat, soul-consuming degree that requires three years of a top GPA from Pre-Med. It’s designed to weed out the faint hearted before the first semester is even over. Graduates here don’t just get jobs. They get titles, and invitations to Westminster where the British monarch probably bestows them with Dame, or Sir, or some other archaic title.

And Choso Kamo is a high school dropout, with nary a certificate to his name.

“You got into medicine?” It’s as blunt as you can get.

“What? Like it’s hard?”

“Don’t quote Legally Blonde at me,” You snarl, wordlessly taking the tray of silicone gashes from the tutor.

Choso blinks, as though he’s truly stumped by your hostile reaction, “Then don’t ask stupid questions.” He seems…different now. Sharper, and less apologetic. There’s a streak of confidence that’s as unnerving as it is infuriating. Is he taller? He seems taller.

You exhale sharply, a sound between frustration and resignation. It’s not like you can go up to the course coordinator now and say, ‘Oh, sorry! I can’t be in this stream because my new partner is the boy who broke my heart in high school. I cried and threw up on my best friend’s blazer for three days.’

But you’ve definitely given the group chat enough material to fuel their devious amusement for days, even weeks. You’re practically writing the jokes for them.

With a defiant swing of your arm, you hoist your bag onto the desk. The soft leather tanking against the sterile surface, like a gauntlet being thrown. You slide it firmly into position, the strap dangling just enough to make a point. That this is your line in the sand.

“Don’t move one centimetre over your side of the desk.”

Choso just rolls his eyes.

“They…modify bacterial ribosomes.”

“Wrong.”

You sigh and tap the edge of your notebook with the tip of your mechanical pencil. The rhythm is irregular, your thoughts too scrambled to produce anything like a steady beat.

“They inactive carbapenems,” you try again, your tone pitched with the kind of hope that knows it’s already on life support.

“Nope.”

Choso’s shaking his head, the movement loose and lazy, and it sends strands of his chestnut hair tumbling into his face. The harsh fluorescent lights above make his hair shine with an almost metallic lustre, and as he tugs a thick sweater over his broad frame, your gaze drifts.

The fabric of his white top is riding up, revealing a pale stretch of skin. There’s the faintest dusting of dark hair trailing downwards, and your eyes snap back to the textbook. Your cheeks flushed, for the briefest second as your resolve breaks.

“Just tell me the answer.”

Choso exhales, in a soft and patient sound, sliding the textbook your way. He’s tapping the page with his finger, his blunt nail landing on the highlighted sentence.

“Extended-Spectrum Beta-Lactamases hydrolyse a wide range of beta-lactam antibiotics, including third-generation cephalosporins. This contributes to antibiotic resistance.” His voice is smooth, but it carries that faint rasp that always makes it sound like he’s just woken up.

“I was close.”

“Close doesn’t get you any marks,” Choso replies, deadpan.

Your retort dies on your glossy lips, when a sharp shhh cuts through the air. You glance up, spotting a student two tables away, glaring at you over the rim of her stylish tortoiseshell glasses.

Your next sip of coffee is deliberate, making an obnoxious gurgle as you drain the bottom of your cup. Choso’s eyes flick to the order scribbled on the side, Caramel Crunch Latte, Extra Whip. His lips twitch, but what can you say? Satoru’s dropped a habit or two on you over the years.

This has become the routine over the past few weeks. The outright disdain you had initially felt had eroded, once you had realised that you were truly stuck with the man. It had become something closer to a begrudging truce, but ‘truce’ may be too generous a word.

The two of you found yourselves studying together. Regularly. Choso needed to interact more with people, and less with his old, dusty laptop. And you needed a study partner that could match your wits. Unfortunately, Choso seemed entirely oblivious to the reason you nursed an ancient grudge against him, choosing to accept your bad attitude in stride.

It doesn’t help that Choso is, well, hot now.

In high school, he had always been cute in that underdog way. Endearing, if not exactly the type to inspire confidence. He had been the subject of your sweet trope-like fantasy that you would nurture during long, dull classes.

You, the radiant prom queen, standing under a canopy of glittering lights, extending a perfectly manicured hand to him. The shy, awkward loser who’d clearly underestimated how gorgeous his messy hair and tendency to trip over his own words were. Ugh, now you’re not sure who had been the bigger loser.

But three years had passed, and the Choso that sat across from you now bore only a passing resemblance to that daydream. Time, it seemed had been suspiciously kind to him. Unfairly, even. His frame was lean but undeniably defined. His shyness remained, because you knew that he refused to correct the woman at the food trucks whenever she got his name wrong, but it had softened into something less clumsy, and more self-contained. Far less teenage angst.

The dark violet smudges beneath his eyes were still there, giving him that haunted and sleep—deprived look. And his hair was still the same stringy, chestnut mop that you remembered. But it was more of a deliberate statement now, instead of an oversight. It hung just over his shoulders, and you had heard many a passerby giggle and whisper about hot emos on campus. Like, get in line.

“What are you doing next weekend?”

The question comes so abruptly that your head snaps up like a spring-loaded trap.

“Huh?” You blink, the tip of your pencil teetering dangerously close to snapping against the page.

Choso stares back at you, his expression maddeningly neutral, “Like, are you busy?”

“It’s my friend’s birthday on Saturday, we’re going out at night,” you’re narrowing your eyes at him, already feeling your composure fray.

It’s Suguru’s birthday, and Gojo’s gone full-out with a surprise planned at some five-star restaurant. You managed to get your hands on a vintage vinyl turntable for him, courtesy of a Sotheby’s auction.

Choso nods, like he’s filing that away somewhere, “What about Sunday?”

“Sunday?” You repeat, dragging it out, “I’m free, I guess.” Against all reason, you find yourself answering honestly, even as some internal voice is screaming at you to lie and make up an excuse.

“Do you want to study at my place?”

There’s a pause, long enough for the air to grow heavy between you two. You wonder if he remembers the last time that you asked him to go out with you. Your eyebrows shoot up, and your mouth must be twitching in something close to incredulity.

Choso notices, for his ears go pink first. Then his cheeks, like someone’s spattered him with a splotchy watercolour paint. The flush sits pretty, just under the dark mark that crosses the bridge of his nose, “No, I mean, like really study. Just studying. It’s easier than being here…” He twitches, looking anywhere but you, “Yuuji would be happy to see you again, and stuff.”

And stuff. How ridiculous that two words make your heart trip over itself. Your three-year resolve to keep him firmly in the do not touch zone has basically cracked wide open. There’s a traitorous smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but you manage to suppress it. Barely. Playing it off with a nonchalant hum.

“Hmm. Sure, I’ll think about it.”

Choso lives in an apartment now. Not a polished high-rise with sleek fixtures and panoramic views, but a tired and unremarkable building with flickering yellow lights that cast long and ominous shadows along the stairwell. You clutch the slip of paper that he scribbled his address on, squinting at the nearly illegible scrawl. It’s barely decipherable, a penmanship perfect for prescriptions and indecipherable notes.

In your other hand, you balance a box of cream rolls from the bakery that Nanami swears by, their golden horns stuffed with airy dairy and dusted with cinnamon sugar. The smell is warm and sweet, a sharp contrast to the questionable stairwell.

The ascent feels longer than it should, each step accompanied by the faint swing of those tired lights overhead. But you bite back any judgement, you’ve made that mistake before.

Someone else is already there, a tall figure that knocks on Choso’s door with wide, lazy knuckles. Once. Twice. The man huffs, pocketing his phone and pulling out a key. There’s a practiced ease to the way he clicks the lock open, and for a moment, you hesitate, wondering if you’re witnessing a breaking-and-entering type of situation.

But there’s something familiar about the muted shock of rosy, pink hair that spikes over his head.

“What are you doing?” His voice is rough, deep, with an edge of irritation that makes you stand a little straighter. He looks over you once, and his eyes fall on the box of pastries in your hands. Disinterest giving way to a little bit of curiosity. It reminds you of Itadori Yuuji.

“Uh,” you clear your throat, “Choso invited me.”

The man’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and you’re fascinated by the tattoos that curl around his face. Even running along his jawline, and down his neck. There are silver studs littering his ear, and if you didn’t know better, you would say that there are real precious stones scattered among them.

“Didn’t know he had a date.” The man seems gruffly amused, and you stomp your heels, the sound snapping off worn walls.

“It’s not a date. We’re studying.”

“Don’t care. Didn’t really ask.”

With that, he swings the door open, stepping inside before you can. You linger in the doorway, before hesitantly following him, watching as he kicks the door shut with his heel. He seems to be making himself at home like he owns the place, peering through an empty fridge and rifling through cabinets. All before collapsing on the sagging couch like it’s his throne, sprawled out as he starts scrolling through his phone again.

You just perch awkwardly on the edge of a cold chair, as the space suddenly feels oddly claustrophobic. Your fingers toy with the edge of your notebook, as you wonder whether you need to call Choso, to see if this was all a mistake. Instead, your gaze flickers over to the man sitting opposite you.

You’re sure that he comes from money. You’ve spent enough summer holidays backstage at Milan and Paris shows to recognise the season’s latest pieces. And the crimson racing jacket on his shoulders is definitely a Dior piece that costs more than what you assume is the rent of this entire apartment complex. Plus, you had spent enough time flicking through Van Cleef’s catalogue to recognise the whirring, high-jewellery piece that sat on his wrist. A watch with an eye-like mechanism, studded with Burmese rubies. Easily the price of your penthouse.

“So, you friends with Choso?” He asks suddenly, lowering his phone. His eyes are sharp russet, locking with yours.

“We know each other from high school,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. It’s best to leave it at that, it’s safer that way. You’re playing Choso’s game, the one where you don’t share a thing about your personal life.

“Hmph,” The sound is more of a grunt than a response, and it makes you bristle. Why bother asking a question if you’re not interested in the answer?

“Did I leave the door unlocked?”

You hear Choso’s faintly bewildered murmur, almost to himself, before he catches sight of you. It’s cute, how a bashful smile creeps over his face again, almost embarrassed at the sight of you. But it darkens instantly, sharply. His bronze eyes are fixed on the man that loiters on his couch.

“Get out.”

The man is unfazed, “Why? Am I interrupting your date?”

“It’s not a date. We’re studying.” Choso’s mirroring your exact, previous words. His tone is stiff, like you’ve never heard it before. A snarl, with irritation bubbling underneath the surface.

“I don’t know how else I can stress this enough, brat. But I really do not care what you do to get off.” The man drawls, pushing himself off the couch. He’s absurdly tall, easily the height of the ceiling. You catch a glimpse of the tattoos trailing up his forearm, dark ink that winds around his wrist. A startling splash of red staining the sleeve of the pristine jacket. It’s dried up now, crusting the edges of the fabric. Sort of like…

Weird. And impossible.

Choso grunts, “Fine. Get up. Go,” and he’s gesturing towards a door leading into another room, his jaw clenched tight. The muscles in his neck are taut, the apology in his expression at you somehow mixed with a faint flicker of regret, like he wishes you weren’t here to see this.

What happens next is an absolute masterclass on being nosy. You’ve edged closer to the door, shifting on the couch so you’re practically perched on the armrest. You can hear the muffled thrum of Choso and the stranger’s voice through the door, but it’s not enough. Curiosity is clawing her sharp nails at you, and you wonder if you should text Satoru. Or maybe drop a quick message in the group chat.

You end up leaning in closer, ignoring the way that you’re teetering on the very edge.

The conversation is low, like the rumble of thunder in the distance, but the voices are gradually building until —

“What? You did not just fuckin’ throw something at me!” The man’s voice booms so loud that you almost jump out of your skin, “What is wrong with you? Can’t even have an honest conversation these days?”

Choso’s response is tight, simmering with frustration that you don’t understand, “Nothing you do is honest. And don’t break into my place then!”

“Your place?” The man’s scoff is almost a sneer, like he’s amused at the mere thought, “Brat, let’s not forget all the favours I’ve done you.” There’s a crash, something hitting the floor with a thud, and the man’s voice bellows again, “Oi! Put that down right now. Don’t you dare throw something else at me. Fuck, you’ve got good aim, I’ll give ya’ that.”

You can hear Choso shuffle, spit something sharp in response.

“You’ve done all these things for me before, eh? Why the hesitation now? Got tired of cleaning it all up?”

Choso’s response is firm through the thin walls, “I’m done with doing your dirty work all the time.”

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, punctuated with a low and disbelieving laugh.

“You said that last time. But you came crawling back when you couldn’t handle looking after the kid all on your lonesome.”

“Leave Yuuji out of this!”

There’s another muffled scuffle, a loud thud that makes your heart race as the stranger growls, “Can’t believe you bit me.”

The door swings open with a suddenness that almost knocks you off your seat. Choso’s practically putting his entire back into shoving the man out with a sharp grunt, like he’s had enough.

The stranger turns, giving you a lazy, bored wave. Like he knows that it will simply irk Choso off even more. And he’s right. Choso, not having it for a second, snaps at him, “Get out. And don’t come back.”

The man rolls his eyes, but not before pulling out a pricey Italian wallet, slapping a wad of thick bills down on the kitchen counter, “That’s for this month. I’ll send a cheque next month for the little brat’s birthday.”

Then he’s gone, muttering something about bitchy, little bastard children, born on the wrong side of the sheets, with sharp teeth.

Choso’s whirling around to you, his expression unreadable and blank. Like the surface of still water that refuses to betray even a ripple of emotion. You school your features, meeting his gaze with a look of equal, quiet disinterest.

“Friend of yours?” You ask, your voice cool. But there’s questions dancing on the tip of your tongue, and you can taste them in the air.

He doesn’t answer right away. He’s flicking through the thick stack of bills that the stranger left on the counter. The sound of cash shifting in his hands is oddly loud, and you whistle low, almost involuntarily. It makes Choso look up, catching your appreciative gaze. His fingers tighten around the stack, his jaw clenching, as if to keep in whatever thoughts or words are threatening to spill out.

“Don’t say anything.” His voice is a low mutter, hard.

“I didn’t.”

Choso looks at you again, his hazel eyes softening just enough that you catch the flicker of something unsure. He lets out a low sigh, “But you want to ask.”

“Will you let me ask?” You’re pushing, your voice a little softer and coaxing than you intended. You can already see the signs, the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his gaze flickers to the door as if he’s considering an exit. Choso’s like a clam, snapping shut, as if there is a pearl that he’s not ready to share.

“What do you want to know?” He’s saying this like it’s a chore, as if it is the last thing he wants to do.

You make your way to the kitchen counter, “What will you tell me?”

If Choso is irritated by the vague, passive nature of your questions, he doesn’t show it. He simply tugs his purple sweater down, sharply. “Yuuji will be sad if his uncle didn’t send him money for his birthday. He turns ten next month.”

“So that was…Uncle Kuna,” you ask, murmuring more to yourself than to him. But Choso’s sharp gaze flicks to you, a faint confirmation in the nod that follows.

“Mhm.”

And just like that, something clicks in your brain. A conversation that you had overheard once, perhaps a year or two ago. A rare moment that both your parents had been home, still too distracted to realise that you were listening. The realisation hits you hard, like a small shot of adrenaline, “That’s not Sukuna, is it? Ryomen Sukuna?”

Choso’s amber look is like fragile glass now, “Yeah. How’d you figure?”

In a world such as yours and Satoru’s, it’s quite hard to avoid gossip, and whispers that float around in the backrooms of business meetings, or in the too-quiet halls of private clubs. For all the older business-clans, Sukuna is quite the upstart. A man who clawed his way to the top, not just content with money, but power and influence as well. Apparently, he made quite the name for himself, building an empire with wealth beyond measure.

And all at the low price of being wanted in more than thirty-five countries and territories. A businessman, a crook and a criminal. Your father said that Ryomen Sukuna’s ledgers were written in red ink, fresh blood for both personal and financial debts that were owed to him.

“Why did he say that you came crawling back to him?”

Choso’s eyes flutter shut, and you can see that he’s calculating whether it’s worth the effort to respond.

“He’s the reason I dropped out of school,” Choso mutters, the words low enough that almost don’t catch them. They land with a soft thud, the kind that makes your pulse stutter. You stare at him, with the kind of look that people give when a ticking time bomb has just been dropped in their lab.

Choso scoffs, eyes darting away, “Yeah. He’s always been sending money for Yuuji. And I was stuck doing his…favours.”

Suddenly, you’re back in high school. On Choso’s doorstep, watching him try to hide a cardboard box of surgical tools. There’s a little corkboard map in your head connected with red strings, as you pin other things on there. The latex gloves in the box, Choso’s general lack of squeamish misery when it comes to the stickier parts of medicine, and the bloodstain on Ryomen Sukuna’s Dior jacket.

It’s almost odd, in a morbid way, that a crime boss chooses the latest Vogue streetwear, instead of a dark Godfather suit and a cigar.

Your expression must betray the pieces that you’ve put together, because Choso’s eyes widen, like he can see the cogs turning in your brain. “Look,” he stammers, voice rougher now, with a nervous edge, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Never saw what he did. Not really. Just —”

You shush him gently, a hand reaching out to land on his, a little too quickly and a little too hot. The instant your skin brushes against his, there’s a sharp feeling. Like you’ve touched something that burns beneath the surface. His face flashes a faint pink, muscles stiffening as though your touch seared him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Go on,” you hope that your tone is reassuring.

Choso swallows, his throat bobbing as his fingers suddenly curl around yours, “Anyway, I got tired of doing his dirty work, you know? Thought that if I dropped out, I could get a job. Work enough to support myself and Yuuji, without taking a single dollar from him.”

“But he’s your uncle?” Your question is tentative, like you’re testing the waters of a deeper pool, “Wouldn’t he support you, too?”

Choso’s sigh is deep and weary as he gently corrects you, “He’s Yuuji’s uncle. Yuuji’s my half-brother.”

Suddenly, Sukuna’s comment about ‘biting bastard children’ snaps into place with clarity. Oh.

You’re not sure what to say now, what words could possibly fill the emptiness that lingers between the two of you. What a misery it would have been. Being a teenager with such potential, forced to close off your own future for the sake of family, and those that you love.

You remember Choso’s face that day, after graduation, with his hollow expression as he watched your friends celebrate their youth. There’s a bitter lump in your throat, but for once, you keep it down. This really isn’t about you.

You frown, the thought sneaking up on you and settling in your chest like a splinter you can’t ignore. “He said you owed him favours.”

Choso exhales sharply, his shoulders stiffening as if bracing for something unpleasant. His voice is low, bitter. “You think high school dropouts pay their own way into med school without a benefactor?”

Right.

“So?” Choso’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, and you blink at him, startled.

“So, what?”

Choso shifts, unease seeping into his posture. His calloused fingers are still curled tightly around yours, like he’s afraid that you’ll pull away and slip past him.

“Are you angry?”

You’re not sure whether to laugh, or sigh, “Why would I be angry?”

He’s hesitating, dark hair falling loose around his face, “I was a jerk to you.” The words come quietly, like they’ve been gnawing at him, biting at the edges of his thoughts, “At the time, I don’t know, I guess I was just angry. Everything felt unfair, and I didn’t want anyone else to be involved.”

You frown, not fully understanding what to say, “You were still a teenager,” you say slowly, like you’re trying to convince both him and you. You hesitate, unsure whether you’re underplaying things, so the worlds come out a little jagged, not quite as comforting as you wished. “I guess…” It feels weak as your words suddenly stagger off.

Choso’s eyes flicker to yours, searching, like he’s trying to figure if there’s something else, you’re not saying, “What?”

You can practically hear Satoru’s voice in your heard, groaning and whining about screwing the long game. But you puff a breath through your cheeks, worried you’ll lose the nerve, “You know, I really liked you, right, Choso?”

Choso’s mouth drops open, as his face flickers with disbelief. The same way it had three years ago, “Like, really?”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips without even thinking, “Yeah. And you know, everyone else thought I was being, like, silly. But I really liked you. I just never knew what to say to you.” It feels so stupid, and obvious now. But back then, it had been a great chunk of your world. You force yourself to hold his bashful gaze.

Choso’s quiet for a moment, before he admits, “I couldn’t believe it when you asked me to be your date. I thought it was just a game you were playing, or there was no-one left to ask.”

And then, after a beat, “Who did you go with?”

You snicker, a little too bitter and honest, “No-one.”

Choso’s quiet, relieved ‘damn’ makes you laugh even more, threading your fingers with his.

“I just can’t believe he’s in your classes. What are the odds?” Satoru mutters, abandoning his sunglasses for the evening, his bright eyes flashing like sunlight refracted on water. He claims that his eyes are less sensitive today, but you’re certain it’s an excuse for him to freely rifle through your kitchen without obstruction. In the living room, the rest of your friends hover like a pack of starved hyenas, waiting for the snacks that Satoru is currently monopolising.

“I’m telling you, when I first saw him, my heart dropped straight to my ass,” you say, tearing open a bag of sour cream crisps with more force than necessary. The chips tumble into the earthenware bowl in a noisy cascade.

Satoru snickers, expertly arranging small platters on a big, oaken serving board, “I pity the lack of cushioning it got.”

You flick a stray crisp at him, the chip bouncing off his shoulder with a gratifying crunch. For a moment, his grin is steady, but it quickly turns rueful. That slight furrow in his brows, the way the corner of his mouth twitches downwards. There’s something else simmering under that veneer of carelessness.

“You’re not happy, Satoru?”

His expression hardens slightly, plucking a cluster of wine-red grapes, twisting them off their stems with methodical precision.

“Well, yeah,” Satoru admits after a beat, his tone uncharacteristically sober, “I’m glad that he’s, like, nice now or whatever. But he basically broke your heart, didn’t he?”

You glance away, your fingers tighten on the corner of another snack bag, “He had his reasons.” Your flat reply avoids his curious gaze, perceptive and knowing. You hadn’t filled him on the Sukuna-lore. You’re not sure what it is, but there’s bad blood between the Gojos and Sukuna, and you’re not keen to exacerbate it.

Oh, hey, Satoru! So, Choso is like Sukuna’s adopted nephew. And I think Sukuna forced him to like clean up people’s chopped fingers and arms, or whatever. But I have a big crush on him, yep. Right after I said that I wouldn’t catch feelings again.

Satoru scoffs, wagging a long finger at you. A glistening droplet of grape juice clings to his thumb like a ruby bead, “Don’t make excuses for someone hurting your feelings. You know better than that.” His tone carries the same theatrical lilt as always, but it’s underpinned with something firmer, genuine.

Before you can fire back, a new voice meanders into the kitchen, soft and unhurried, “Who hurt your feelings?”

It’s Suguru, propped lazily against the doorway, choppy layers freshly framing his sharp features. The dim kitchen light catches on the faint sheen of his silver rings as he crosses his arms.

Satoru grabs a bag of pretzels, lobbing it towards him, “Choso Kamo. Remember that emo guy I told you about?”

Suguru catches the bag with practised ease, without looking, his mauve gaze flicking to you. You silently curse Gojo Satoru for broadcasting your love life, or lack thereof, to what feels like half the city.

“What’s he look like again?”

You narrow your eyes at the tall man, “He was literally in our grade.”

Suguru shrugs, his palms raised in mock innocence, “I never saw him, okay? He was quiet as hell, never had classes with him.”

“He wasn’t that quiet,” you protest, but your words are drowned out by Satoru’s triumphant declaration.

“Hold up! I got visual aid.”

He’s whipped out his phone, unlocking it with a brief glance of his face, before shoving the dimmed screen inches from Suguru’s puzzled face. The photo, a grainy yearbook photo of Choso in junior year, gleams under the kitchen lights. You wonder if you’re going to need to fight for your life on the frontlines again.

For a moment, Suguru’s expression remains neutral. Unimpressed even. Then, as if someone’s flipped a switch, his eyes widen with dawning recognition, “This is Kamo? His girlfriend’s my neighbour.”

Half a grape travels down Satoru’s windpipe, “The villain!”

Your best friend’s exclamation ricochets off the kitchen walls, loud enough to silence whatever protest was forming on your lips. Not that you had much ground to stand on. How would you even know? Choso had talked to you about his family, not his love life. You saw him a few times a week, and then the two of you would drift away, back to your own orbits. And he was a grown man with a life that had surely moved past you.

You had told him that you had liked him, and he hadn’t said a word back that hinted at any mutual connection. How had you missed that?”

Satoru is still recovering from his near demise at the hands of fruit, “What girlfriend? You’re sure, Suguru?”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, looking like he regrets ever opening his mouth, “Hey. Don’t pin this on me. But he comes by, with a little pink-haired kid. His brother? And she’s like talkative,” and he gestures vaguely above his head, “Like, really tall. Blonde.”

Your eyes had drifted to the unopened case of vodka sitting on the counter.

Satoru clocks you immediately, “Don’t even think about it. We’re going to handle this like mature adults.”

“We?”

Satoru nods solemnly, looping his arm through Suguru’s leather jacket, “Yes. Your Choso loss is my Choso loss,” and he pulls Suguru closer, “Our Choso loss.”

Suguru sighs, not shaking him off as he looks at you sympathetically, “Why am I a part of this? No offense. You could skip all this misery, and I don’t know because I’m just spit balling here, ask him?”

The dark-haired man continues, “Or, and I know this is radical for two divas like you, you could just let it go and spare yourself the drama. If you’re going to be working in the same field, wouldn’t professionalism be better?”

Satoru scoffs, “Or! We do some reconnaissance. I mean, you’re the girlfriend’s neighbour, Suguru. Go snoop around.”

“Why is it always me?” Suguru’s pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Because it is always you. You’ve got the best sneaky liar face I know,” Satoru replies breezily, ignoring how Suguru mutters about the love he feels in this kitchen, “And you need to do this for the greater good. All that noble shit.”

Suguru shoots you a half-hearted glare, as if this is somehow your fault, and not Satoru pulling every string. You’re one more inconvenience away from slumping onto the counter, head in hands, a shot glass by your side.

Your mind flickers to the hair tie that Choso always wears on his wrist. It could be innocuous, sure, but the green-eyed monster claws itself up in your chest. You imagine this faceless girlfriend passing it to him, like an intimate, inside joke.

“What am I supposed to do? Corner him in the break room on placements, and interrogate him? Should I pull out the clan funds, and pay him to date me?”

“It’s what I did with Suguru,” Satoru quips, not missing a beat.

“Now who’s the liar,” Suguru murmurs.

The hospital’s looming ahead. A hulking mass of glass and steel that outline the bleak sky. It’s a bitter Monday morning, the kind that bites at your cheeks and sinks into your bones, no matter how tightly you bundle up. The drive has been long and so utterly tedious, the pale sunlight doing little to brighten the cityscape as you crawl along congested streets.

Now, on the far edge of the suburbs, you’re left squinting and fuming as you circle the parking lot for the third time. The situation is grim, spots are scarce, and every turn feels like an ill-fated gamble that only ends in someone else’s bumper.

You mutter curses under your breath, the heater in your car doing little to thaw your mood.

Choso’s already there, not a massive surprise, for his apartment is far closer than your waterfront residence, smack-bang in the city’s central district. His dark hair is loosely tied back, and he’s thrown an old hoodie over his scrubs. There’s a clipboard tucked under his arm, and a coffee cup in the other.

He extends the cup towards you without preamble, “Want it?”

You blink, catching on the incongruity of the gesture. But Suguru’s intel still echoes in your mind, he has a girlfriend.

You furrow your brow, the cup hovering between you, “Where’s yours?”

Choso shrugs, “I don’t drink coffee. Makes me jittery.”

This answer irritates you for no logical reason. Who doesn’t drink coffee? It feels like some fundamental character flaw, and you snatch the cup from his hand. Doing your very best not to unfairly glare at him, for the sole crime of having a life outside of you.

It’s hard to focus when he’s nailed your exact order. You lower the cup, the warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve and into your fingers, doing little to melt the icy knot that sits in your chest.

Choso seems almost unnervingly chipper this morning, a far cry from his usual brooding demeanour. There’s no scowl etched on his handsome face, no trace of his typical stoicism. Instead, he wears the faintest trace of a smile, a subtle and almost tentative thing that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he glances over a nearly printed itinerary.

The sight throws you further off-kilter. It’s rare to see him like this, easy and unguarded, and you can’t help the way your lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile threatening to escape before you smother it.

“We’re starting in the ER for two hours,” he reads aloud, voice steady, “then, the paediatric unit.” He pauses to flip the page, his expression shifting to mild exasperation, “And then, paperwork in the break room.”

“Figures,” you grumble, tucking your hands into your coat pockets, “Free labour from the students, yeah?”

Choso glances at you, from the corner of his eye, an unimpressed but faintly amused look on his face, “Thought that you would start the day with a more upbeat attitude.”

You grunt in response, which only earns a shake of his head as he folds the itinerary back into his clipboard.

A beat of silence stretches between you, only punctured by the sound of light metal snapping as you clip a badge to your pocket, but he’s speaking again.

“You good?”

His bronze eyes flick to yours, clearly searching, and your pulse stutters, “Yeah. Obviously.”

Choso takes a deep breath, his chest rising and gearing up for something monumental. The way his fingers fidget against the clipboard betrays him, they tap out a staccato rhythm. There’s a flush creeping on the back of his neck, subtle but unmistakeable.

“Want to get dinner tonight?” He blurts, the words tumbling out so fast that they barely sound like a sentence.

You blink at him, confused, “Bless you.” Your automatic response, because he spoke so quickly that it sounded as though he had sneezed.

Choso’s scowl is immediate, “No.” He says it firmly, drawing out each word in exasperation, “I asked if you wanted to get dinner tonight. After this.”

Oh. Oh.

The realisation hits you like a jolt, and for a second, all you can do is gape at him. He’s looking at you now, an almost defiant sort of expectation in his gaze, as though he’s worried that you’re going to laugh at him. But before you piece together a coherent response, there’s a sharp rap-rap-rap of knuckles on the doorframe.

The ward manager is here, her expression brisk and no-nonsense, gesturing for the two of you to begin your shift placement.

Your head snaps back at him, mouth moving before your brain diplomatically catches up, “I don’t think that’s fair to your girlfriend, do you?”

Choso’s brows knit together, his expression shifting to something startled and indignant. Irritated, even, as you push past him.

He’s trying to speak to you. It’s painfully obvious, as he’s got that mildly dazed look. All that awkward, earnest attention is squarely focused on you.

You’re having none of it.

He steps to your side as you shuffle through patient charts, his broad frame taking up more than his fair share of narrow space, shadowing your elbow as you scribble furious notes. His mouth opens, probably to say something that you don’t want to hear, but you’re faster.

“Hey, Choso, what’s her blood pressure?” You interrupt, not bothering to look up from the faintly lined paper.

There’s a second of hesitation before he answers, “120 over 50. Just write that down. Got it? Okay, yeah, can you stop moving for a second and —”

You squint at the chart, cutting him off again, “Hmm, don’t you think that the diastolic is a little low?”

His shoulders slump, “Yes, but the doctors already know that. She has hypothyroidism, you told me that when you interrupted me like half an hour ago. Can’t you just —” Choso stops mid-sentence again, muttering a resigned oh my god, when you pivot away and head to the next room without so much a glance back.

It sets the tone for the rest of the shift. You make a sport of avoiding him, weaving through the emergency department like a fish slipping upstream, leaving Choso stranded in your wake. He follows, persistent in his mild-mannered way, but you’re relentless.

“Can you hand me that chart?” He’s trying again, as you’re elbow deep in filing.

“Oh, this one?” You sweetly ask, holding it just out of his reach, before conveniently remembering that you need to double-check something on it. He just huffs at you.

By hour three, it’s clear that Choso’s patience is wearing thin, and fighting a war against his professionalism. He corners you near the supply cart while you rummage for gloves.

“There you are.”

“Oh, are we low on size medium?” You cut in, loud enough to catch the attention of a passing manager, “Should we restock?”

Choso inhales through his nose, “We’re not low on gloves. We’re fine on gloves. Can you stop talking about gloves for one second?”

You flash him a smile that’s all teeth, “Gloves are important, Choso. Hygiene is crucial.”

This time, you see him run an exasperated hand over his face, before realising that now he’s just contaminated his own pair of gloves. Snarling at you as he rips the blue latex off and reaching for the size large box.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, once and then twice. Then thrice, as if whoever’s contacting you as something urgent to say. You ignore it, you’ll check it after placements.

The hours tick by, and your strategy remains the same. Stay busy, stay distant, and stay unreachable. Don’t make it seem like you’re irrationally bothered by Choso having a life of his own and having a girlfriend. Or that you actually had hope that this time round, his feelings for you were requited.

By the time you both stumble into the break room, Choso looks as if he’s experienced the full emotional spectrum, like he’s been knocked through the five stages of grief and landed somewhere in the resigned space of acceptance. He looks as if he’s clearly preparing to lecture you, to tirade you on professional conduct and —

Without warning, his phone buzzes.

You don’t even look up from cracking open your water bottle, the sound of plastic barely crinkles louder than the dull thud of your own heartbeat. Choso glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, a flash of alarm crossing his face, before he draws his attention back to the screen of his phone.

You hear the faintest scoff from his direction, and he’s shaking his head as you watch in mild interest.

“What?”

Choso doesn’t answer immediately, still scrolling through his phone.

“I’m not dating Tsukumo Yuki.”

Your mouth goes dry. You blink rapidly, wide-eyed as if he’s just spoken in an ancient, dead language.

“What?” You manage weakly, “Who? What? —”

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you fear the cause of this slow and curling chest is a meddling duo of two men, one with dark hair and the other with snowy-white.

Choso doesn’t even glance up at you, his voice tinged with something incredulous now, “Why is Gojo Satoru texting me? He says that you’re not replying to his or Geto Suguru’s messages. And apparently, this is super urgent, and he feels like he must do his divine duty by interfering before you do something stupid.

Choso pauses, finally looking at you as if he’s truly baffled, “And you all thought that I was dating Tsukumo.”

You’re crafting a list in your head. Twenty creative ways to kill Gojo Satoru and not land in prison afterwards.

Maybe you should ask Choso for Ryomen Sukuna’s contact.

“That’s crazy,” you say, the words tasting thin and hollow in a bitter, embarrassed lie.

Choso shakes his head at you, some dark strands of hair falling across his eyes, “She looks after Yuuji sometimes. I take him over to her place because Yuki’s adopted a kid, Todo. The two of them are friends.”

“Uh.”

Choso turns back to his phone screen, scrolling through whatever nonsense Satoru is feeding him, “Have you being icing me out all day, because you thought I had a girlfriend?”

“Will you hate me if I say yes?” You’re looking anywhere but him, focusing on the chipped, lilac paint on the break-room door. Or the slightly off-centre light bulb flickering above. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’re adding Geto Suguru to your kill list.

Choso’s voice is softer when he answers, almost too quiet, “Hey. You know I couldn’t hate you if I tried.” But there’s a strange mixture of amusement and disbelief in his voice, a bemused chuckle that lingers in the air, “Wow. Just wow.”

You grimace, fingers toying with the edge of the water bottle as you wrangle your thoughts into words, “Are you mad? I mean, look. I told you I liked you. And then you held my hands, so I thought you liked me back. And you got me coffee. But Suguru said you had a girlfriend, and you can’t blame me for being — Oh my god, I’m going to stop talking, you’re looking at me like I’ve gone crazy.”

Choso’s expression shifts, just staring at you. You don’t more than a split-second to process his strangely intense look. There’s no time to recover before he leans down, his hands surprisingly warm and gentle as they cradle the side of your face.

Your breath hitches, but before you can form another thought, his lips are on yours. They’re warm, deliberate and surprisingly firm. The scent of crisp green apples falls over you, as his hair envelops your face.

He pulls back just enough to study you, “Was that okay?” he asks, his fingers still lingering at the curve of your jaw, like he can’t believe he just kissed you. You can feel the sharp blush sting your face, as your heart practically goes into cardiac arrest, nodding quickly.

“Uh, I’m not really an expert in this field,” Choso murmurs, “But I can’t believe that I waited this long to do that.”

“You can do that again,” you say. Wondering if you should buy Satoru and Suguru a bouquet of flowers instead.

Choso, predictably, blushes deep enough that it nearly looks like he might combust. His eyes flicker away, avoiding your gaze in that way he does when he’s trying to sort through his emotions. But it’s hard to miss the warm flush that’s firmly planted on his neck.

“Can I do it over that dinner?” Choso murmurs, his voice dipping lower, before he quickly rephrases, “I obviously do want to kiss you now, again, that is, but if they catch us in the break room —”

You suddenly beam up at him, patting him on the cheek, “You can kiss me as much as you like over dinner.”

Choso looks as though he’s been struck with a metaphorical thunderbolt, as if he didn’t expect you to agree so straightforwardly. And then, as if he can’t help himself, he presses a quick and soft kiss to your forehead. For the briefest second, it feels as if you’re a teenager again, caught in the whirlwind of something simple and so sweet.

“Okay. So, is that a yes?” He asks, a little breathless, as if he’s not sure what kind of confirmation he’s just gotten but needing it to hear it anyway.

“If it’s a proper date, it’s a yes.”

Choso mutters under his breath, “You know Geto Suguru texted me with a five-paragraph apology, something about sneaking around my apartment. Stalking me this morning,” and here, he looks at you, utterly exasperated but fond, “Something about checking to see if I had a girlfriend. I mean, I don’t even know the guy. We never talked in school.”

You loop your arm with his, pulling him in slightly, “See, I always did say my friends were super nice. They’re going to be super nice, and normal. Trust me.”

ONE WEEK LATER.

“And to my brother-in-law, my brother-in-arms, my brother in the Constantinople Crusades of 1204,” Satoru hiccups, his words slurring together in a rambled mess, as he sways over the edge of Suguru’s arms, and for a split second, you’re worried the white-haired man is going to tip over entirely, “My new brother, Choso. We always knew it was going to happen, eh?”

Choso’s cheeks turn a faint shade of crimson in the sudden spotlight as everyone cheers, and he shifts awkwardly. Suguru’s shooting him an apologetic look, the corners of his mouth twitching as he props Satoru up, “He’s a lightweight. And we watched a historical movie last night.”

“I can tell,” Choso grumbles, his face flushed now as Satoru’s monologue drifts like an aimless plastic bag in the wind, his words growing nonsensical as you reach over to pinch at his cheeks. He yelps but continues to babble on about how he and Choso are going to be best friends now, and they’re going to go shopping together, and ice-skating, and fruit-picking. All nonsense burbles being strung together by the tequila shots that Satoru swore he could handle an hour ago.

You glance over at Choso, faintly embarrassed, but he just laughs, a sound that’s unexpectedly light and unguarded. His fingers slide into yours once more, and the motion is gentle and natural, as though this, you, are exactly where he’s meant to be. And he drapes the wide expanse of his aviator jacket over your shoulders.

Meanwhile, Suguru is wrestling with Satoru, pushing him back down from his impromptu toast to your boyfriend, before the bartender can usher you all towards the exit. The burly man is already giving Satoru’s drunken proclamations a nasty look.

Shoko, of course, is grinning at you, a tankard of beer glimmering in front of her. Her eyes gleam with the sharpness of someone who’s won a decent amount of money in a bet. And Utahime is standing back with a faintly judgemental expression that only veils her gossipy curiosity, and a glum look as she passes wads of cash into Shoko’s waiting hands.

“They really do like me,” Choso murmurs, his voice low and almost carrying the undertone of vulnerability, alongside some quiet self-awareness.

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning in to press a quick peck to the dark mark that streaks over his face, “They all have no choice. You’re my boyfriend now.”

The words slip out effortlessly, and for a moment, they hang between you like something solid and unspoken, as though saying it aloud has made it feel real in a way it never quite did before. Choso’s eyes flick to yours, and something shifts in his expression — just a slight softening around the edges.

Then, without warning, you lean in, closing the distance between you, and kiss him. It’s slow, deliberate, with none of the frantic energy of your first kiss but instead the quiet certainty of something just beginning to bloom. You feel the faintest sigh from Nanami in the background, the sound of Geto groaning as Gojo whoops with drunken delight.

The noise from the bar fades into nothing as you focus entirely on the warmth of Choso’s shy lips against yours, the gentle pressure as he presses more into you, the soft thud of his heartbeat where your hand rests over his chest. For that moment, it’s just you and him, and everything else is an afterthought.

“Okay! I’ve had enough of the lot of you snogging and yelling in my bar! And take stupid Jack Frost out with ya’!”

[neminomnom]

Cars I think arcane characters would have

Send me requests I beg 🙏🙏🙏

includes: Viktor, Jayce, mel, Caitlyn, Ekko, Felicia, Vi, jinx and isha :)

Viktor

- Viktor would have a Toyota Camry or something very similar, it would be dark grey with a bunch of scratches on near the bottom of it.

- Viktor would keep his car very clean, in the glove box he would keep a bunch of old CDs he’s never even touched.

- has so many air fresheners on the rear view mirror that havnt been taken off in about a year, his car smells like a mix of lavender and that old musty smell.

Jayce

- oh he would definitely have some big, electric car, like a Volvo EX90, that thing would be SPOTLESS inside and out, not a speck of dust out of place.

-Jayces Volvo is in the colour ‘sand dune’ and probably has a custom number plate saying T4L1S or something along those lines

- The inside of the car is pretty clean, he doesn’t keep much things inside of it, but he does have a photo of him and Ximena stuck onto the edge of his dashboard.

Mel

- I feel like mel would have two cars, one being a Bugatti mistral in the colour of black, and the other being a Land Rover defender, she likes the look of the Bugatti and how clean they look, but she also loves the space in the defender.

- the Bugatti is a show car, she uses the defender 110 to get around, it’s in the colour ‘Gondwana stone’ and has a bunch of the accessory packs to go with it.

- that car smells DIVINE, you could not shower for a year, go to sit in that car for five minutes and come out smelling like the world luxury.

Caitlyn

- Caitlyn would have a Mercedes-benz AMG G 63 in black, her car would look incredibly clean on the outside, but on the inside not so much, sure it was clean, but there were a few bits of paper on the floor of the car, Caitlyn hates it and tries to clean it a lot, but it still gets messy

- She doesn’t let people eat or drink In her car, she doesn’t want people to stain the leather seats or get crumbs in the little corners of them.

- she keeps gum in the cup holders and offers it to anyone who gets in.

Ekko

- you could be stuck in traffic for hours then see him filtering on his racing bike, that thing can go fastttt, He would have a Kawasaki ninja H2R.

- him and jinx would have spent ages decorating decorated his helmet and gear thingys with spray paint, he would also have some cool car stickers on the sides of the bike, or the firelight symbol.

-Ekko loves to race with other people, of course he wins, but he still enjoys it

- He would get a bunch of custom stuff done to it to make it stand out, like a custom exhaust, and during the Christmas season he wears a reindeer helmet cover

Felicia

- Felicia would have an old lady car, small but still a nice car, like a 2014 fiat 500 in white, there would be quite a few scratches and it would always be a bit lucky on the outside, not too dirty though.

-the inside of her car feels like the word home, it smells like warmth and she has so many Polaroid photos of her and people she loves on stuck onto her dashboard, there’s a few wrappers littered on the floor, but she doesn’t care that much.

- at 7 in the morning, you could hear her music playing in the car from the opposite side of the street.

Violet

- There’s two options, either a big monster truck what hasn’t been through a car wash since 1987 and has so many problems with its engine, or something like a 1990 bmw 325i, it’s seen better days but is still usable, and I’m going for the second one.

- the bmw sounds like it’s about to take off to space each time she starts it, and it bounces each time someone sits down in it, vi loves it though.

- this car has so many scratches on, the inside has a bit of damage, the seats having spill stains on, so she brought those seat cover things.

- You can tell that thing smells musty, no matter how many air fresheners Vi buys, the smell doesn’t go away.

Jinx

- you bet she has the funkiest car, like a hot pink Mini Cooper with go faster stripes all over it, she has a wrap of her monkey symbol on the roof of the car in a dark grey, still visible but not too noticeable.

-that thing looks like it’s been through wars, but the inside is even more chaotic, she had LED lights around the edges of the roof inside and so many trinkets on the dashboard.

- like mother like daughter, she also plays music so loud it can make you deaf at any time of the day, no matter the song you bet she’s blasting it.

- once tried to race Ekko in it and failed miserably.

Isha

- it isn’t a car, but she has a scooter and a skateboard, Isha and jinx made the scooter all bright and colourful, it has a bunch of things hanging off the handles.

- for the skateboard, that thing is hanging into its last limbs, the wheels keep on coming off and jinx always has to fix them, but Isha loves it too much and she doesn’t want to get rid of it.

—————————————————————————

[intimidating-fettuccine]

I love the satyr s/o headcanons you've done so far, so I gotta get your headcanons on Tim, Nina, and our beloved BEN separately with a satyr s/o!!! I love your writing so much it makes me scream and shake violently!!!!

I'm glad you like my writing so much, and I hope you enjoy this one too :)

Tim:

Honestly, I think Tim is just incredibly confused about how he managed to land a demon partner. Tim just views himself as Some White GuyTM, so he's very confused about why a demon, especially one as cute as you, would want to be with someone like him, but he doesn't complain about it, and instead, he tries his best to be a good partner for you. I think he finds your characteristics to be very cute, your soft fur, your horns, your hooves, he thinks you're just the most adorable thing in the whole world, and he tells you that all the fucking time. He reasons that you're far too cute to be a demon, with that soft fur and your gentle disposition, telling you as much, but the moment he sees you actually defend yourself from other demons he remembers the fact that your title as a demon isn't just for show. I think he'd call you his Little Wolf, his wolf in sheep's clothing, because you're much stronger than you look, and he admires that fact. I think Tim would probably wonder if he's doing a good job as your boyfriend, wondering if demon relationships are any different from human ones, but when you just smile and reassure him that he's doing perfectly, giving him a kiss and a hug as you do so, it'll definitely ease his concerns. Tim does like to be protective over you, willing to stand up for you even in the face of other demons, but I'd honestly recommend teasing him sometimes, saying that he's your human that you have to protect and care for, and he'll get all flustered about it. 

Nina:

Nina fucking ADORES you. Working for Zalgo she's quite used to being around different types of demons, but you have to be her absolute favorite of the bunch. She loves everything about you, and she was often stuck to your side like glue even before the two of you started dating, so she's incredibly affectionate and loving towards you, which is quite a sight for the other demons around the two of you to see a human being so clingy with a demon. I think honestly Zalgo might even be very happy that the two of you are dating because Nina has a penchant for getting into trouble and causing fights with people she shouldn't be, so it's nice to know she has someone like you around her to keep your eyes on her and keep her safe if you need to. Being as rowdy as he is, I think she probably likes to try and play wrestle with you a lot, and of course, you always hold back to not hurt her, but she gets a lot of enjoyment out of testing out her strength and growth with you, plus she loves seeing you in action. Even if you don't fight very often, she thinks you're incredible, and she loves watching you fight with your unique satyr-specific style. Also, I think she totally brags to pretty much everyone she can that she, as a human, was able to end up dating a demon, which is pretty uncommon, and she feels super happy that she's able to be a good enough partner for you, considering your differences as a human and a demon, and she's committed to being the best girlfriend she possibly can be for you.

BEN:

I'm gonna say it... He has major grabby hands for you. BEN really loves soft things, and your hair and your fur are both just so irresistibly soft, so he can't stop himself from just wanting to constantly love on you and run his hands across your fur and through your hair all the time. BEN finds you to be so fucking cute, and he probably has a photo album on his phone with hundreds of pictures of you that he's constantly adding to because he loves you and he can't get enough of you. Also, the thought popped into my head that he's totally bought the two of you matching goat keychains, stickers, and anything else he can find, but the joke is on him because sometimes he does it to tease you a little but you find all the stuff so cute that he gets flustered about it and it just makes him get you more stuff. I can see him absolutely wanting to take naps curled up on your lap and your legs where it's nice and soft because he finds it so relaxing and comforting (even if he doesn't even technically need sleep), it just makes him feel so content and happy, so it's one of his favorite places to be, ESPECIALLY if you stroke his hair while he's laying on you, you'll never get him off of you. BEN, despite being a ghost, hasn't really been with any demons before, and for you to be his first demon and be this incredibly wonderful and adorable and soft and just the best thing to ever happen to him he feels so incredibly lucky, and he just never wants to leave your side.

[hxltic]

can you do capt price with an s/o who used to have braces (the reader has glasses) and proce found this out cause like he was going through all photo albums and stumbled upon readers old pics when the reader was like in middle school (OH AND ALSO IMAGINE THE READER BEING A METALHEAD IN MIDDLE SCHOOL AND UNTIL NOW AND PRICE IS JUST SO SUPRISED HAHAHAH)

I am so sleepy so this may be bad or short but i find this hilarious

One of the reasons Price loved you was because you were absolutely gorgeous. Your hair complimented your eyes, and the jewelry you wore sat glistening on your skin. Your figure gave him something to grab onto, all his favorite parts of your body on display when you wore those tight fitting dresses for the summer.

When you brought the man home to your parent’s house, you’d expected him to be downstairs helping out for dinner despite how much you tell him to rest. It’s the sweet, traditional side of him.

Not in your childhood room, silently looking through things that aren’t technically hidden, so you can’t get upset with him for noticing.

And it wasn’t the records plastered on your wall with a protective glass over them, or the stickers permanently stuck to the sides of your mirror—it was the pictures. All in relatively small frames that didn’t have the best quality, but good quality enough for him to see the worst of you. You stroll out the bathroom and close the door to the man holding one and chuckling to himself. His brow was turned up in amusement.

“Put. That. Down.”

He turns to you with the frame still in hand, his face never wavering even though you looked like you were about to combust with embarrassment. Cheeks red, eyes blown wide darting anywhere else but him, and hands coming up to cover your face.

The worst part was, you knew exactly which picture he was holding. It was you and two other girls, one of which you don’t speak to anymore. Anyway, your teeth were dark with black braces to match the atrocious personality you’d invented for yourself at the time, and your haircut was one you try your best to forget about. You really wish you would’ve thrown that away.

It doesn’t help your features look the exact same.

The only difference was you were wearing your prescription glasses, the ones you brought into adulthood, but they were somewhere tucked in a drawer as your contacts held their spot.

“Why? You look adorable.” He teases. You looked far from that. You were a menace.

His perfectly sculpted beard moves as he tips his head back in laughter, genuinely taken aback by young you. You somehow are still the same, just more tolerable, with a snappy attitude on top but a lovey dovey mess underneath.

“Oh my god.” You wanted to roll yourself up in a ditch and never escape. The only reason you kept that picture was because the other girl has the same one. The date was written on the back in marker, but you didn’t have to look to know it was during your darkest days.

You finally calm yourself and blink up to your spouse, who seemed to be in thought. His mouth opened to ask, then it closed, and it took everything in you to pretend you didn’t see it. You just knew it would be something else by the taunting half-smile on his face.

Instead, you asked him what he was about to say. You shouldn’t have.

“I searched up the band on the wall. They still around?” He asked.

And while the question seemed purely genuine, you did not take it as such. One side of you wanted to tell him, “No, they stopped making music a while ago,” and the other half is saying, “Kill me now.”

Now he knows you used to listen to metal, but not just the regular kind; the barely coherent, head-bopping, voice-ripping kind. If the man wasn’t older, and this was Gaz, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call you emo.

“No,” you mustered up. You tried your best to not return to the previous state of embarrassment, but knowing your husband, he’d now look into it and try to get you printed shirts for your birthday and whatnot.

He didn’t openly tell you how weird or concerning it was, but this was worse. When someone won’t tell you something directly, but you just know what they’re thinking anyway.

“I didn’t think a pretty lady like you would listen to that.”

. .

The entire way to the dinner table he was on and off laughing. It even got the point he had to temporarily excuse himself, just somehow unable to rid the image from his mind. Even though that’s far from what he wanted.

This late in the relationship and your mother still has horror stories to tell.

[scoutsbabygirl]

"men don't cry." a scout x reader angst fanfic, although it focuses more on jeremy (and dell's friendship). if you think of engi as a dad/uncle then this will def pull at your heartstrings. reblogs, follows & likes are all appreciated!<3

"right? there's nothing too bad about me, right?" his voice was trembling and his face as red as a tomato. "right? i though i really was the best, city of champions, right? that means i'm a champion, right?" his pitch was erratic and high which was highly unusual for jeremy. he tried his hardest to make up for his fragile masculinity while having a slim and thin frame. the names he was called at school because of his look stuck with him well into his adulthood. his ego was being destroyed. he hoped in the back of his head that he was just misinterpreting the situation. he couldn't wrap his mind around it.

the scent of smoke.

the locked door.

slow ballad music erupting from the four walls.

the noises. which he just knew belonged to your larynx.

our of anger, he picked up one of the stuffed animals you had affectionally given to him during his birthday this past year and threw it at the wall, knocking down a framed photo of him and tavish piss-faced drunk at a bar for jeremy's 21st birthday. the clang of the dark oak frame caught him by surprise and brought him out of this delirious state driven by jealousy and anger. his eyes snapped back wide, stepping back without moving his feet a single inch. a soft sigh escaped his lips as his shoulders shrugged back into their original resting spot. he let out another exasperated sigh and laughed to himself with a crooked smile painting his lips half in embarrassment for his own little anxious mental breakdown and out of hatred for everything he heard just a few moments prior.

he was supposed to be the one on top of you causing you to make those angelic noises. not another man. he was well aware that you owed him nothing, nothing was official and there was nothing more of a friendship. he had never tried to officially approach nor court you, yet, someone else was lucky and ballsy enough to get there before he could even make the courage up to do so.

that thought caused him to pick the frame up and throw it against the wall, shattering the glass frame to pieces. the wooden frame caused a small dent in the wall that would be fixed easily with some dry wall or whatever trick dell knew. the notion that he

wasn't good enough

or that

someone else could hold you before he could even mutter the words of how much he admired you.

of course, he was a hormonal young man but nonetheless the love far outweighed the lust.

a gentle meek knock at the door caught him off guard and brought him back to his current reality. fear, instantly instilled into him as a wave-an ocean- a tsunami of anxiety washed over his broken mind. your voice tormented his soul and seeing your right now in his current state would bring him to his knees in sorrow and regret (for himself). he longed to have you run into his arms but he knew he wouldn't be strong enough to even look you in the eyes without the thought of you being underneath another man.

curiosity killed the cat and he opened the door. a small dell greeted him with a orange toolbox in hand with a caution tape sticker. his beard was a bit longer since jeremy had seen him last and it suited his face really well, something dell was proud of. jeremy regretted not buying him beard oils for christmas, oh, how he would've belly laughed while unwrapped the gift with a hand over his stomach.

"i heard a big crash! so i figured you were throwing baseballs in here again." the sentiment made a slight smile appear on the top left corner of jeremy lips. he was truly like a father to jeremy and the other mercs, a father that jeremy never had and he was starved to have the love of an older father figure. he was hungry for someone to listen to his problems, he was famished for someone to call "dad".

"well." jeremy sighed, stepping aware from the white door that was littered in small, medium and large dents, a myriad of black sharpie chicken scratch and cutout photos of his favourite players from the teams from back home.

"all that ruckus for that little bend?" his southern drawl was quite comforting for scout. he thought of being a much younger boy in the middle of boston with pops in his room looking at the damage he had done to the wall and the lecture he was about to receive. that stern talking to was never to come but rather he would receive a few heartwarming laughs and a joke or two about jeremy's "pitching technique".

"nothing a bit of drywall can't fix. but honestly, this ain't nothing. i reckon we just leave it." he turned back to jeremy with his back facing the wall now. "it ain't bad. it ain't nothing to worry about, son." dell adjusted his palms over the black handlebar of the toolbox just before patting scout on the back.

how he longed for this. to sit down with his father and talk about his issues. but men don't have emotions and men don't cry.

"dell, i think i heard y/n and tavish..." he drawled out. a sour taste in his mouth from his teammate's name. "fucking and it's really been bothering me. i got mad and threw the picture frame at the wall. that's what caused the damage to the wall and, uh, thats what you heard." jeremy managed to spit it out without stuttering or with any uncomfortable silence used as filler words.

both men became silent afterwards. scout, let out a sigh feeling self conscious of letting all of his emotions out and how emasculated he felt infront of another and much older man. he fell back onto his bed, the plush blankets enwrapping down on his open palms as he sat up.

"son. let me tell you a little something about manhood." the southerns spoke before joining scout on the open spot on the end of his bed.

[lunaremy]

ive tried to draw their room layouts like 3 times and failed so now im gonna describe it

ou know it !!

FIRSTLY - Each sibling has their own room. While the rooms appear circular from the outside, they are actually reminiscent of regular rectangular rooms once you go inside. The only difference is that the wall facing the outside is curved. It reminds me of a basketball semicircle.

WHITE'S ROOM - Pretty much the only place he can go to relax. Still, it's shockingly clean and would look like a showroom at IKEA if he hadn't decorated it. There's a corkboard filled with photos of him and his family on the wall (white and red at a restaurant, pink and pretty's concert, etc etc) and it's extremely taken care of. In fact, there's a stack of photographs inside the drawer of his nightstand. On top of said nightstand is a standard bomb-shaped alarm clock, commonly mass produced and sold in many convenience stores on Planet Bomber for it's familiar shape and it's effectiveness at waking people up. Fortunately, it doesn't actually explode like a bomb - thanks to a lawsuit roughly 70 years ago. His bedsheets are blue and white polka-dotted, and while his bed looks extremely comfortable, it's so well-made that one might think he's never slept in it at all. To be fair, he only sleeps once every two days, and he's always on top of making his bed after using it. To the right of his room is a desk, and on that desk is a pretty old-looking computer. It's purely for recreational use, White says, but his idea of recreation on a computer is playing old ass games like chess or solitaire or googling whatever he likes as his computer loads astronomically slowly. It's right across from his bed, so he sometimes uses it as a TV as well.

BLACK'S ROOM - The baseboard is painted a dark burgundy because he thought it looked cool. Same with his bed and silk bedsheets that are really more for looking pretty than anything, but his pillows are white and he has a ridiculous amount of them. There's a full-length mirror propped up against the wall, and he has a desk as well. Only, his computer is more advanced than White's was, and he has a bunch of little novelties like a zen garden and whatnot on the desk. Also, it's accompanied by a swivel chair that he secretly loves to spin around in sometimes. In front of the window is a miniature hydroponics station where he grows flowers. He really hates dirt, so it's great that biological technology has advanced so much. He also has a bookshelf that's absurdly stocked with books, but all he reads are romantic dramas anyways, so it's not that interesting if you're not a fan of those. Everything in his room is really expensive, so it's rare his younger siblings are allowed inside.

PINK'S ROOM - It's pink. Like eye-blindingly pastel. Unlike White and Black, her bed is Twin Sized, which is how she prefers it. There are a lot of stickers stuck on the wall, and she has a pretty extensive closet, although it's mostly filled with whatever doohickeys she finds interesting because she finds her form interesting enough as it is. There's a small treasure chest at the bottom filled with things like musical instruments and radios/CDs. There's a big empty space in the middle of the room (as her bed, desk, and closet are in corners against the wall respectively) for her to groove out in, but even with that large space to dance in, she frequently ends up bumping into the walls and hurting herself a little. She has a netbook that she frequently uses in the bed instead of on the desk, so the desk is pretty much just free space that she frequently alters. One month it's there to hold a big radio, and the next month she's using it as a stand for a digital piano. You get the idea. Just as colorful as she is.

BLUE'S ROOM - You would not be wrong if you just considered it a giant bed. It's messy, but not like Pink's "Organized Chaos" way. There's just genuinely a shit ton of blankets on the floor. The only space without blankets on the floor is occupied by one of many computer monitors to go with the three on his way-over-the-weight-limit desk. The wires are a mess, something he actually detests because it makes it harder to troubleshoot. He spends a LOT of time in this room. Like a LOT. Sure, he sleeps on the sofa to be in the presence of his siblings sometimes, but when he's really sleeping, he's in here. He has black-out curtains over his window, so the room looks like a vampire's den. And there are so many blankets over the bed that it's almost criminal. At the very least, every single pillow and blanket in the room are of the utmost quality, so Blue is fine with this. He has a white-noise machine and a fan.

RED'S ROOM - For starters, he has a punching bag in his room, hanging from the ceiling. And instead of a desk, there's a big tv where it should be. He has a few games, along with a game console White bought for him, something he cherishes deeply. There's a lot of posters on the wall of whatever he considers "cool" at the time; except he rarely takes them down when they stop being cool. His bed is twin-sized like Pink. When he was younger, it used to be racecar themed, but he's since had that replaced. There isn't much to his room because he spends most of his time out and about. I think he has glow-in-the-dark stickers on the roof. Something of note is that there's a laundry bag made to work like a basketball hoop on his wall - you ball up laundry and then hoop it into the basket. He sometimes asks other siblings for their clothes so he can play basketball with it.

YELLOW'S ROOM - He has a bunch of terrariums on a shelf, and inherited Red's love of cool looking beds (his is bee themed). There's an easel near his window, but he still likes to draw on the walls, so White opted to coat one of the walls in a blackboard-like material. Yellow loves this wall and draws on it with chalk all the time. It should be noted that he has a pet butterfly in the middle of that shelf that is deeply cared for and always pampered by Yellow. White has replaced the butterfly at least 5 times (they all lived happily and died of old age) to keep Yellow from being sad. He doesn't have a TV or computer or anything in his room, but he doesn't care for it and has a handheld console to play on anyways.

AQUA'S ROOM - Her bed is a canopy bed and she owns a sewing machine and a rack of various fabrics. She also has a small bucket of trinkets near the sewing desk, as well. Aqua has a dresser, and a small TV on the floor that she rarely watches. It's really for the sake of background noise, if anything. There's a large rug on the floor that she made by herself a while ago. Aqua goes here to relax and get some peace and quiet. She often borrows family photographs from White, but instead of having a dedicated corkboard, she usually just frames them or tapes them to the wall until it's time to switch them out. For some reason, it smells like mints in here.

GREEN - Reminds me of a dragon's den. Lots of whatever his older siblings have bought for him. He has a TV, but he's too young to own any consoles. Pretty bare-bones, he'll probably spruce it up as he gets older, but for now it's just a place to store his toys and sleep when White tells him to.

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Say You Do - Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: tfatws-bucky, friends with hidden feelings, tension, pure fluff

word count: 8k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1338893019-say-you-do-jayden

Masterlist

Jayden twirled around her freshly-made cookie smelling kitchen, humming the theme song to Jurassic Park to herself as she pulled the hot baking sheet from the oven. Her blonde waves flowed freely over the shoulders of her oversized stolen grey hoodie. It was her favourite day of the week, finally. Well, sort of. Her neighbour and forced best friend had cancelled their weekly movie night the week prior and had promised to make it up to her. 

Having a superhero as a friend came with its perks and its downfalls. One was the cancellation of plans when the world needed saving. She didn’t mind and wouldn’t have it any other way, but the disappointment still crept in each time. 

She placed the still warm cookies on a white ceramic plate and slid it onto the counter next to the mountain of other snacks that she had ready, a soft smile gracing her pink lips. 

Just as she was checking that everything was ready and to Bucky's liking, hoping with everything in her that he'd be able to make it this time because she missed him, the ding of the elevator outside her door was loud enough to alert her. 

She sprung into action, hurriedly opening the door and catching the super soldier with a baby pink sticker in his hand raised and ready to place it on her door.

Jayden let her gaze wander down to his hand and the sticker that he was still holding.

"A pink hibiscus flower?" she asked with a little smile on her lips.

"Yes. It reminded me of you, so I convinced Sam that we need to go back to that shop before flying back home. He wasn’t very happy, mumbling mean things the entire time. But he’ll get over it. He always does." Bucky's eyes were fixed on the hibiscus sticker as well, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Why did it remind you of me?" Jayden now raised her gaze and when Bucky tilted his head upwards as well, their eyes met. Something sparkled in his ocean blue ones, but she couldn't tell what it was.

"The hibiscus is a symbol of positivity, joy and cheer. Thought that was fitting." Bucky answered, his lips curling up in a shy but visible smile.

“You’ve obviously forgotten what I’m like before coffee,” she teased.

“I tried to block it out,” he rolled his eyes jokingly, both of them chuckling.

“You’re still gonna come over later, right?” Jay asked, seeing how exhausted he seemed, preparing herself for his refusal as he sighed deeply.

“I…” Bucky just couldn’t let her down, no matter how tired he was, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  She smiled softly when he suddenly reached out and stuck the pink flower sticker on the tip of her nose.

"Hey, that's not where it belongs" Jay scrunched up her nose looking at the very amused Bucky in front of her. His normally stoic and no-nonsense kind of expression that seemed to be permanently etched on his face softened and a smile formed on his lips. A smile that was only reserved for a few select people and she was happy that she was one of them. Because when he smiled warmth bloomed in her heart. That smile was her own personal sunshine.

With a shrug of his shoulders, the super soldier backed a couple of steps down the hall, smirking and sparkling his ocean blue eyes at her, "You’re rarely awake when I get home, and this way it keeps its sticky-ness for when you put it in your photo album that you keep under your coffee table." 

Jayden narrowed her eyes, "Hey stop snooping around my apartment!" 

"It's not my fault you take forever in the shower, I had to amuse myself somehow while I waited for you to be ready," he quipped, resulting in the tea towel in her hand being flung at him, pulling a genuine laugh from his chest, "nice sweater by the way." 

Her tongue swiped her bottom lip as she crossed her arms over her chest with a smirk, "Thanks, I stole it from this old man that lives in the building."

Bucky tsked, opening his apartment door, "Stealing from old men... I should have you arrested."

“Would you visit me in prison?” Jayden asked, batting her eyelashes, “smuggle me in some contraband?” 

Bucky tilted his head as he thought about it, leaning in his doorway with his arms folded across his chest. The leather of his jacket pulled tight across his biceps and Jay’s gaze lingered there until Bucky clicked his tongue. 

“If you were good,” he replied with a tired but cheeky grin. He pushed off into his apartment with a wave of his hand, “I’ll be right there, don’t start without me.” 

Jayden threw him a salute, matching Bucky’s grin as he disappeared behind his closing apartment door. 

“Remember, comfy clothes or no admittance!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she heard, followed by Bucky’s soft chuckle echoing across the hall.

"Oh and Bucky?" she now yelled in the empty hallway. His door was almost closed, but she heard it open again and his head appeared behind the door frame. She needed to chuckle, he looked like an alerted meerkat.

"Yes, my favorite sweater-stealing neighbor?" he asked before winking at her. There they were again: the butterflies in her stomach.

"I've made your favorite cookies. You know, the chocolate chip ones from my Grandma’s recipe. So make sure your sweatpants are flexible enough." she smiled at him while swirling the tea towel around so that it was resting on her left shoulder.

Bucky's eyes widened slightly and Jay saw his tongue licking over his bottom lip. This swift movement made the butterflies in her stomach flutter and she had problems ignoring the heat in her lower belly. 

"Give me 20 seconds to change. Don't eat them without me!" he responded, before disappearing into his apartment. Jay could hear loud noises from it as if he was running through the main room and bumping into some furniture.

She looked cross-eyed at the sticker that still sat on the end of her nose and huffed out a chuckle and removed it, tapping it between her finger and thumb as she went back inside and retrieved her album from under the coffee table.  She flicked through the pages, photographs of her family, her friends, and Bucky…all interspersed with stickers of all shapes and sizes, each one representing a promise kept.

Finding one of her favourite pictures of Bucky, where he scowled like the grumpiest little shit she’d ever seen, she smiled to herself before sticking the pink flower over the top of the image so it looked like he was wearing it as a hair clip.  Satisfied with her devilry, Jay headed back into the kitchen to check over the snacks one last time.

Hearing heavy footsteps in her hall, she looked up to find Bucky in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his silver dog tags imprinting on the fabric from the inside. His feet were clad in a pair of green dinosaur socks that Jay had given him last Christmas which he swore to burn after Sam and her had spent 10 full minutes cackling at the expression he made when he opened his present. The man that looked so tough and hard on the outside was wearing dinosaur socks.

Jayden pursed her lips suppressing a smile, "Look at youuu in your cute little dino socks, adorable." 

She couldn't help but chuckle at how Bucky's eyes narrowed as he looked down at her bunny slipper clad feet and lifted his gaze back up with a raised brow. 

"Really Harper? Have you seen your feet?" 

"You got a problem with my bunnies, Barnes?" she challenged with a smirk. 

He raised his hands in mock defense, shaking his head with a laugh. "Me? I could never, you look adorable in them." Jayden proudly smiled and shimmied her shoulders with a giggle, "I know." 

Their friendship had stemmed from small neighbourly quips at each other in the hallway into actively bullying each other. It was one of those things that she wouldn't have accepted from anyone else besides him because they each knew that it came from a place of friendship. Sam had said a few times how they fight like an old married couple, and Peter once asked Sam if they were flirting or fighting. But that was just how their friendship was. 

Sure, on occasion Jayden had imagined what his lips felt like, or what it would be like to walk down the street holding his hand. To keep up those late night chats they had, laying next to each other in her bed. The pesky butterflies crept into her chest once more, igniting a soft smile to dance at the corners of her lips. 

"Earth to Jay, hello..." Bucky's voice pulled her out of her head and she turned her hazel eyes to meet him. "You okay?" 

"What? Yeah of course!" She chuckled nervously, shaking her head, "Can you grab the snacks from the counter? I'll get the movie set up since you can't work my TV."

“Sure thing,” Bucky smiled, “and I tried okay? Not my fault you bought the most complicated TV to exist.” 

“You literally press two buttons to get Netflix up, Buck.” 

“Two buttons too many,” Bucky grumbled. “And don’t steal my favourite blanket,” he added as he left her to the TV and moved to retrieve the snacks. 

Jayden laughed and decided not to tell him that it was a little too late for that. The knitted blanket was still laid over her bed where it had been tangled with her duvet for the past week like it always was whenever Bucky went away. 

She went to fetch it once the TV was set up, laying it neatly over the armrest on Bucky’s side of the couch and ignoring the warmth that flooded her at the thought of it holding his scent again.

"What about 'Jurassic Park'? Since you’re already wearing those cute little dino socks. Whoever gave you those really has good taste." she snickered.

Bucky rolled his eyes a little at her, before answering: "Sure. If they don't have any movies about annoying little bunnies, we can go for the dinosaurs." 

"You won't regret it, I promise. Also, the music is great. Gives me goosebumps every damn time." Jay said with a little too much excitement, making Bucky laugh when he returned with his hands full of snacks. As soon as Bucky settled next to her on the couch she placed the bowl of chips on her lap and pressed play.

"Is it even realistic? Recreating dinosaurs? From blood within a mosquito?" the brunette man asked with furrowed brows before turning to grab the plate full of chocolate chip cookies he’d set on the coffee table. 

"You tell me, Mr. Dinosaur. You're over a hundred years old and still walking around my apartment very alive. What mosquito did they use to recreate you?" Jay giggled, but she stopped the moment she saw Bucky's shoulders tensing and halting his movements. He turned his face her way, looking at her with slightly widened eyes.

"Sorry... I didn't mean it like that," she added with guilt written all over her face. 

Suddenly Bucky's face changed and he burst into laughter. Jay furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Then she heard him hum within his laughter, "You should see your face. All concerned and sorry and that shit. I’m messing with you, little bunny. But don't call me a dinosaur again, or this old man won't share the cookies with you."

"NOT FAIR!" Jay exclaimed before showing him her best theatrically exaggerated pout.

“Anyway,” she continued, not able to hold even a pretend pout for long around him, “you’re the science nerd. Do you think they could do that?”

He sat back with the plate of cookies in hand sliding one her way. 

“I actually read something about that,” Bucky hummed.  “They’ve tried to recreate the genome of a woolly mammoth but the DNA is too old and degraded. They’d need to create an artificial womb too because an elephant’s womb isn’t close enough to…”

“Oh my God shut up already!” Jay whined in mock distress.  “My brain’s leaking out of my ears!”

"Don't be so dramatic, Harper."

Jay fake yawned right in his amused face, "You're a nerd, Barnes." 

He snatched the remote from her hand and turned up the volume.

Soon they were engulfed by the familiar melodies and Jay snuggled herself deeper into the couch.

Jayden looked Bucky's way every so often as the movie went on. Watching his reactions to them was probably her favorite part of movie night next to simply enjoying his company. 

In those moments, he wasn't the hardened shell of a man who had been ripped away from his life at twenty-eight and forced to fight and kill. He wasn't Sergeant Barnes or the Winter Soldier, he was just Bucky.

Her Bucky.

Her grumpy but incredibly sweet and selfless neighbor turned best friend.

At one point when she was watching him, that soft smile that seemed permanently plastered on her face when he was around grew on her lips once more, Bucky looked over and caught her hazel eyes. His brows furrowed and he looked over her features with confusion. 

"What?" He mumbled in the middle of a bite of one of her cookies. 

 Jayden let out a giggle and shook her head, "Nothing..." 

As he reached forward and grabbed the remote, she couldn't help her eyes as they wandered to the stretch of his t-shirt around his biceps and she didn't even notice that he'd managed to pause the movie. What was wrong with her tonight? It was never this hard to push these thoughts away. 

"Jay..." Bucky uttered quietly. 

"What?" She snapped her gaze back to his face, noting the slight concern hidden behind his ocean blue eyes. 

"Talk to me, you seem off tonight," he nudged her knee gently. 

Jayden breathed out a chuckle, "I'm not off, I'm just... happy your home, safe," her lips pulled into a straight line and she turned her eyes down as she fiddled with her fingers, "you don't usually see this part of when you get home from missions..." she admitted quietly.

Bucky huffed out a sigh beside her and Jayden wiggled a little closer, her head falling against the back of the couch. She leeched Bucky’s warmth as she pressed alongside him. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” 

“It just takes me a while, usually, once I see the sticker and I know you’re home… I kinda, I don’t know, fester in it. Every so often I have to remind myself that you’re just across the hall, sleeping it off and I guess having you here right now, so soon after— I’m not used to it. I’m happy you’re here… with me. And now I’m rambling— fuck sake.” 

“Hey, I like it when you ramble,” Bucky chuckled, “and I’m happy I’m here too. If it wasn’t always the middle of the night when I get home, you know this is the first place I’d come, right?” 

Jayden nodded, plastering on a smile as she rested her head on Bucky’s shoulder and grabbed the remote to press play. 

“Pass me a cookie,” she mumbled as the classic music started up again, squeezing Bucky’s arm in thanks when he handed her two and pressed a kiss to her head.

It wasn't unusual for him to kiss her on her forehead, there was even a time when he’d kissed her on the cheek, it was the first time he'd tasted her cookies. The elation lighting up his face that day as he pressed a mouth to her dimpled cheek and left a few crumbs behind as he tried to chew the cookie off was still seared in her mind. 

But this kiss got to her. Maybe it was because it came after being open and vulnerable with him instead of avoiding this topic to relieve him of carrying another burden, worrying about her when his shoulders already bore so much weight. 

She willed the sting of tears welling in her eyes away when Bucky whispered a quiet "I'm okay, I'm here" with his lips brushing over the skin of her forehead tenderly before backing away and slumping back against the couch, the warmth radiating from his close body a comforting reminder that he is indeed okay and there with her.

Bucky's eyes were fixed on the screen again, where the characters were currently facing a much too aggressive Tyrannosaurus Rex. 

"Every time..." Jayden started, before swallowing the lump in her throat. "... every time you're gone for a mission I’m concerned you're not coming home. With all those aliens and bad guys out there. I know you’re a super soldier and very skilled in everything that you do, but still. When I hear movements in the hallway I always hope, even pray, that it's you returning from your mission safely." 

It had taken her a lot of courage to speak out these words in front of him. Tonight something felt different, although she couldn't point a finger at what exactly. From the corner of her eye, she could see Bucky grab the remote control and pause the movie again. Then he turned his face towards her, studying her features for a few seconds.

Jay had an inner debate to crack a joke to lighten up the mood, but before she could even open her mouth, he spoke. 

"I will always come home. I might be battered and bruised some days, but I would never forgive myself if I miss a movie night with my favorite neighbor." 

There was that smile again. The one he had reserved just for her. And the moment she saw it, the concern in her heart was washed away and she couldn't feel anything else other than happiness and warmth.

“Can I ask you something, Jay?” He said, his face serious.

Jay swallowed and nodded, sure that he could hear her heart beat out its rapid rhythm. If she’d been paying more attention to him and not the way his hand fiddled with the edge of the blanket she’d have seen the devilish twinkle in his eye.

“Would you rather be eaten by a velociraptor or a T-Rex?”

“What?!” She asked, her brows drawn in confusion.

“I was thinking probably T-Rex ‘cause it’d take fewer bites,” he smirked and with that he pulled his arms inside his shirt and screeched like a dinosaur, scrabbling at the blanket as if he were trying to attack her.

"How are you gonna get me with those short arms, Buck? You can't even clap." 

Jay jumped up, running towards her bedroom knowing full well she had no chance against a super soldier and war veteran. The screeching came closer as she cackled her way into her bedroom, Bucky not even a foot away from her.

Jay jumped up on her bed but before she could grab a hold of her headboard, Bucky had already circled her waist with his strong arm, making it impossible to escape. 

"Gotcha."

"Cheater."

Bucky gasped dramatically, "I would never!" 

Before Jayden could answer, Bucky flung her body over his shoulder pulling giggles from her chest effortlessly. The smell of his musk filled her nose as she wrapped her arms around him from upside down, feeling the outlines of his sculpted stomach beneath her fingers. Every nerve in her body ignited and her brain suddenly felt fuzzy with romantic thoughts of him once more. 

Her body was flung easily and softly back onto the couch, with Bucky's hand cradling her head. He towered over her, his blue eyes tracing her features as their gazes locked. He brushed a strand of blonde hair off her forehead and smirked at her from above. 

"I win," he quipped. 

"You cheated, super soldier," Jayden answered quietly, trying to calm her pounding heart.

She watched as he smiled at her, his dimples showing themselves. 

“I improvised,” he countered. “There’s a difference.”

Jayden sat up and rolled her eyes as Bucky sat back down beside her, watching her from the corner of his eye. “What on earth are you planning in that brain of yours?”

She grinned, discreetly stretching out her fingers before launching herself at him, attacking his sides until he was a giggling, writhing mess beneath her. 

“I was thinkin’,” she began, as he caught his breath, “that you should know better than to let your guard down, Sergeant.” 

“And here I was thinkin’ I was in my safe space,” Bucky countered, nudging her softly. 

His expression was still playful, blue irises sparkling, the happy lines at the corners of his eyes deep as he flashed her his usual lopsided smile. She loved him like this when the burden of being who he was seemed to lift and most of his worries was how many cookies he could eat. Proven right then as he shoved another in his mouth, humming happily. 

“You wanna order dinner? You can’t live on cookies.” 

“Watch me,” Bucky mumbled around his mouthful.

"Buckyyyyyyy." Jayden whined. He was staring right into her hazel eyes, grabbing another cookie and placing it in his mouth. It was provoking but still adorable. Almost childish. 

Jay loved to see the shell of the strong and resolved soldier crumble in front of her every time he took a step into her apartment. As if she was the only one with which he could be his true self. The nerdy, funny and sarcastic Bucky. The one that ate way too many cookies, complained about it the entire day after, but still would do it exactly the same the next time. 

"Jshsai 'hen yu hngri" he mumbled with now one and a half cookies in his mouth, but Jayden couldn't understand a single word.

"Stop speaking with your mouth full of cookies!" she snickered and slapped his vibranium arm playfully. 

"Just say when you're hungry and we can order dinner," he repeated after opening his mouth a little and sticking out his tongue to show her that it was empty this time.

He laughed as Jay shook out the sting from her hand, a disgruntled frown on her face.

“I’m hungry,” she grumped, pulling out her phone.  “What are we eating?  Chinese?  Thai?  Moroccan?”

“Chinese,” Bucky mumbled around yet another cookie, “and don’t look at me like that.  I have a fast metabolism.”

Shaking her head with a chuckle Jay clicked on to the app and ordered their usual Chinese food.

“It’ll be thirty minutes,” she confirmed.

Bucky made a face, but then smiled, "I don't think I'll ever figure those damn phones out, but ordering takeout without having to talk to someone?" He held his hand to his heart with a happy sigh, "Best invention of the modern age."

Jay giggled, stretching out on the couch beside him, "Can't argue with that."

She blinked at the TV screen, "Oh, shit, we forgot to pause the movie!" The credits were scrolling across the screen.

Bucky smirked, pulling his arms back into his sleeves, "Bucky Rex couldn't reach the remote!" He growled, making Jayden collapse in a fit of giggles.

She smiled and shook her head as she caught her breath, "You're ridiculous, but you're cu- that was cute."

Jayden, what is wrong with you?

She felt the heat at her slip-up creeping up her neck and she was sure her face was just reaching tomato red as he looked back at her with a bashful smile on his lips. 

"Jay, would you mind if I take a quick shower while the food gets here? Actually try to wash that mission off, you know?"

Jayden shook her head and gestured to the bathroom, "S'all yours, I'll get plates and everything ready," she bounded off the couch, and didn't make direct eye contact with him as she grabbed the emptied bowls and made her way toward the kitchen. 

She could feel Bucky's blue eyes following her movements through her apartment, walking behind her as he brushed past her and went into the bathroom. Jayden leaned both her hands onto the counter and closed her eyes, huffing out a breath. Why was this so hard tonight? 

The bathroom door creaked back open and Bucky's head poked back out, "Hey Jayden..."

Sucking in a sharp breath, she smiled once more and turned around to meet his eyes. 

"Thank you, for tonight..." his lips pulled into a thin line and he looked down to the floor, "I uh, really needed this after that mission and you... you really came through"

“You’re welcome,” she answered easily. “We can do this anytime you need to relax.” 

Bucky grinned at her before closing the door again, then the sound of the shower turning on was able to be heard.

Meanwhile, Jayden leaned against the counter with a groan and ram her hands over her face. This is so hard! Every time I look at him or he gets close, my heart feels like it’s going to explode.

She nibbled at her lip, turning to watch the bathroom door like it was going to miraculously tell her how to deal with her feelings. 

The faint sound of Bucky humming echoed from the bathroom and Jayden sighed with a quiet chuckle, resigning herself back to her task of getting plates. 

Bucky was her best friend. He was goofy despite his hardship, soft when he wanted to be, smart as hell, and — not that she would ever dream of telling him — the light of her fucking life. And the thought of ever letting that slip? Terrifying. 

The shower shut off before she could dwell on it anymore, and she listened simultaneously for Bucky emerging and their takeout arriving. Bucky appeared first as she was setting plates and cutlery on the coffee table. His damp hair glistened and his squeaky clean skin glowed as he padded back into the living room smelling of her raspberry shampoo. 

“Better?” She asked as he flopped back on the couch, yanking her down with him. 

“Mhmm,” he hummed, the sound vibrating from his chest and setting her body tingling as he hugged her tight, “thank you.”

"You smell pretty... fruity!" she chuckled in his ear, while he was still holding her close. 

"I know. I like that smell on you, so I feel honored to have a part of you on me now." he whispered back mischievously. His arms let go of her small figure with gazes locked. Something shimmered in the depth of his ocean blue ones. She had seen it earlier today as well.

A drop of water dropped off of a slightly longer strand on the front, trailing down his forehead and into his eye. Bucky blinked several times while grimacing his entire face. 

The weird tension between them was gone when they both burst into laughter. 

Keep it together, Jay! He's your best friend. A hot one. But your best friend. You don't want to ruin this by acting weird today.

Her hormones were driving her crazy today for no reason. Damn hormones.

Bucky must have noticed the shift in her brain because where his normal tense crease in his brow sat returned for a brief moment, his eyes raking over her features. The butterflies in her stomach turned into a tornado as he reached for her his hand coming dangerously, well as dangerous as this gentleman could be, to her cheeks. He tugged gently on a strand of her hair, pulling back and holding up a bright blue ball of fluff from her knitted blanket. 

A grin spread across his features, "you could make a wish with this," he chuckled, sucking all of the air out of her chest. She loved the sound of him laughing, even when it was the deep low rumble he had just let out. 

"It's not an eyelash," she quipped through a shaky breath. 

Bucky shrugged, "I'm deeming it so, c'mon darlin, close those pretty eyes and make a wish."

So she did.  Jay allowed her eyes to flutter closed and wished for the one thing she’d never say out loud.  She opened her eyes again to see Bucky staring at her, his head slightly tilted, and a soft expression on his face.

“What did you wish for?” He asked.

“Ha, like I’m gonna tell you!” Jay snickered, smacking the back of her hand gently against his chest.

“Some best friend you are,” he grumbled with a playful pout.

“Yeah, you just remember that the next time you want some cookies baked,” she retorted, laughing at his look of feigned horror.

“Bunny please, I’m beggin’ ya!  You don’t gotta be so cruel!” He whined.

Jayden sat up straighter, trying to look as serious about her threat as she could before she crumbled back into laughter, "As if I could ever deny those puppy eyes!"

He cackled then tackled her, tickling her as they tumbled off the couch, Jayden laughing more as she squirmed under him. 

A sharp knock at the door made them both freeze, Bucky hovering over her as she panted. Had half an hour really gone by that fast? As one, they both swallowed, the air sizzling between them before another knock broke them from the moment.

"C-coming!" Jay called out as Bucky moved, standing and holding out his hand for her.

She placed her hand in his and felt like every nerve fiber in her body was shocked at the contact. He tightened his grip on her as he helped her get to her feet, a sea of blue once again locked on her hazel eyes. Jayden whispered a thanks and beelined her way towards the door trying to calm down her racing heart. 

She took the takeout bags and thanked their delivery person, turning around and shutting the door with her foot. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bucky following her movements. All the while, Jayden set the bags down on the free spot on the coffee table without so much as a breath in Bucky's direction. 

Kneeling in front of the table she tucked her legs under her as she settled in her spot before opening up their takeout containers. 

"Jay, are you ok?" Bucky asked as he sat down on the floor next to her. 

"Mhm yeah no no I'm fine, I am starving though. Aren't you?" she raced out.

She watched as Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, before nodding once and turning his attention to the food in front of them.

"I'm always hungry," he finally answered, busying his hands as he helped her unpack the food. 

Smooth, Harper, real smooth she thought to herself, grabbing the remote from under some boxes. She flipped through Netflix until she found the second Jurassic Park movie, turning it on without consulting her friend. He'd said when they started things that he trusted her to show him things the way she thought was best and she took that responsibility seriously. 

"Ok so, I know we didn't totally finish the first one but you didn't miss much, just the ending bits, but you should be fine enough to understand the second one," Jayden rambled, still keeping her eyes on the table or on the TV, anywhere but meeting his gaze.

“I’m sure it’ll be just as chaotic as the first one was,” Bucky mused as he opened a packet of soy sauce and poured it over his rice. “Did you get those crunchy roll things?” He stirred up his rice and swallowed thickly. They were so close earlier. So so close. 

“Is the hot actress in this one too?” Bucky asked as Jayden passed him the carton he was looking for. She arched her brow and Bucky thanked her with a grin, wiggling his own eyebrows playfully. 

“The blonde one? Laura Dern?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, suddenly hopping up and heading to the fridge. Jayden watched as he grabbed two beers, flicking the caps off with his left thumb. 

He handed one down to her as he settled back on the floor, a little closer than before. 

“No. But this one has Julianne Moore. I think you’ll like her.” 

Bucky hummed, eyeing her with thought. 

“We’ll see,” he replied, shoving a crispy roll in his mouth with a shrug.

"You liked Laura Dern?" She asked fumbling with her chopsticks as she tried to clamp down on a bite of noodles. 

His eyes flickered from the screen to her. That mischievous grin returned to his features and she couldn't help but laugh with his cheek chimpunked full of crispy roll. Bucky swallowed with a nod, "why wouldn't I? She's blonde, brilliant, feisty, funny, kind..." His voice trailed off as he took a bite of rice, "reminds me of someone I know." 

Jay's eyes widened for a moment looking from the screen to him just as a piece of shrimp from her chopsticks flew onto the table. He couldn't have meant her... right? She stammered as she moved to pick up the meat from the table, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink as she tossed it back into her container and stared back at the tv. 

"You okay over there?" His voice suddenly behind her as he scooted back onto the couch, "Did you forget how to use chopsticks between now and the last movie night?" Bucky teased. 

She turned to glare at him, only earning herself one of the scrunched nose laughs she loved so much. 

"There she is," he muttered taking another bite of rice.

Picking up a piece of water chestnut Jay squinted a little to aim and then flicked it towards Bucky’s face.  His hand whipped up and he caught the veggie missile with his chopsticks half an inch before it would have splattered against his face.  He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows before popping the water chestnut into his mouth and crunching it.

“Cocky little shit,” Jay grumbled.

“You love it,” he sassed back.

“You wish,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Shut up and watch the movie,” but she couldn’t help smiling at Bucky’s happy and carefree expression.

"As you wish," he murmured, smiling when she raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Did you just quote the Princess Bride?" 

He blushed a little, "Maybe?" 

Jay smiled to herself. He'd pretended to hate it when they'd watched it, but she figured that was just a remnant of the era he'd grown up in. 

"I might have watched it again, on my own," he admitted, putting his empty container to the side and moving to the couch. She almost didn't hear the last bit, "Three more times."

She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up from inside her, her head falling back against the couch cushion behind her. Pure joy rang through her at the picture of Bucky sitting at home watching The Princess Bride and very likely, as he's done with other movies they've watched together more than once, mumbling the words with the actors. 

"I told you you'd love it," she smiled, "why didn't you tell me? I love that movie." 

"Next time I feel like watching it I'll come get ya, promise. Watching movies is better with you anyway."

Jayden tilted her head to the side and met his glinting blue stare, "I'm holding you to that" 

A comfortable silence fell between them as she continued eating her food and Bucky went back to snacking on the cookies. She wasn't sure how he did it, but a small part of her was jealous at the amount he could eat. Her eyes flickered over him, being careful not to draw his attention away from the screen. He really was pretty, even when he was exhausted. Jayden knew he was trying to hide it but at this point, there wasn't much she didn't know about Bucky Barnes. 

Lightly, she jabbed her elbow into his calf and smirked, "Save some of those! Or just don't tell Sam and Peter that I made them. They'll be so mad at me if you eat them all!" Jay breathed a laugh. 

Bucky shoved another one into his mouth and shrugged, "What cookies?" he grumbled with a playful smile.

Jayden rolled her eyes and got up, situating herself back onto the couch beside Bucky and stealing part of the blanket from him. 

“You are such a brat, you know that?” She laughed. “I’m going to have to start hiding some of the cookies so they can have some too.”

Bucky looked over at her with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t…”

“I would. They like them too, and you like to hog them.” 

Bucky frowned slightly. He always thought Jayden’s cookies were special. They reminded him of his mom’s cookies from when he was young. 

Jay sighed. “Are you really going to give me the puppy eyes?”

Bucky turned and rolled onto his back, placing his head right in her lap. “Jay…”

“Don’t think you get to act all adorable and I’ll give you everything, Barnes. I don’t even know how you do that. This big, burly man and you turn into a pussycat at the drop of a hat.” 

Bucky giggled, all sleepy, a yawn stealing his laugh as his eyelashes fluttered closed. 

“Only for you, my little bluejay.” 

“Sweet talker.” 

Bucky grinned up at her, scrunching his nose before getting comfy. 

“Shush now, I wanna watch this one properly.” 

“You’re almost aslee—“

“Shush.”

She held back the laugh that would've escaped her seeing his ridiculously serious face as he shushed her, shaking her head as she tried to calm herself at his proximity.

It's no wonder I'm in love with this goof, she thought to herself gazing over his features. He tried holding back another yawn but she saw him and held back a teasing smirk when he glanced up at her again with a pink tinge to his cheeks.

"You can sleep if you want," Jayden offered. Settling her back comfortably against the couch and fumbling with where to put her hands before letting one rest on his hair and dropping the other to her side. 

His voice was quiet as he answered with stubborn determination.

"Nope. I'm wide awake." 

"Okay." 

They fell quiet knowing that he would fall asleep anyway.

Jay had finally settled the hammering of her heart as the movie continued. She hadn't realized that her fingers were combing softly through his hair until the sound of the T-rexes roaring jolted her out of whatever trance she had fallen into. Her body froze as she glanced down at Bucky and as she figured, he was completely asleep. 

His lips were parted slightly and the soft snores coming from him only made her smile. She appreciated the small smattering of freckles that danced along his cheeks and the few that painted the bridge of his nose. God she was in love with him. 

"I'm not sure when it happened," she whispered barely audibly, her eyes flickered to the screen as terror ensued before moving her eyes back to him hoping she hadn't woken him up with her voice. Jay felt like this was going to be the only time she'd ever get the chance to tell him and even if he was sleeping she hoped it would relieve some of the ache her heartfelt every time he left, "I don't know if it was when you came back tonight, or when you steal this blanket and leave it smelling like you..." her voice trailed off, "or that you trust me enough--" she faltered for a moment, "--even after everything you trusted me into your life..." 

What was she doing? Her cheeks warmed with the idea of him. The way his nose scrunched when he laughed or really smiled, how the slightest touch of his fingers on her skin lit her on fire and at the same time gave this overwhelming sense of calm to her body... she had spent so much time working out in her head if he felt the same way and deep down she hoped he did. 

"You snuck  your way into my heart...and I'm not sure when it happened or how it happened, there's too many moments," she paused taking a deep breath, her fingers still mindlessly combing through his hair and her other hand feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as it rested on his side, "but somewhere along the way I fell in love with you..." Jayden's voice was barely a whisper at this point but it felt good to tell him how she felt, even if he was fast asleep in her arms.

Jayden let out a quiet sigh, still moving her fingers through his hair as the movie continued. 

There was no way he would ever return those feelings.

Bucky turned his head suddenly, looking up at her. Her heart jumped into her throat, had he heard everything?! 

Without breaking eye contact, Bucky tugged her hand away from his hair, pulling it till it was in front of his face, and his lips placed a soft kiss on her palm.

He almost looked scared for a moment, before he spoke. "I didn't think you felt the same way," he paused, licking his lips while he continued to look into her eyes, "But, I love you too."

Jayden sucked in a shaky breath, blinking her hazel eyes at him, unable to break their eye contact. He could have moved or coughed, or something to let her know that he was awake and listening to her. Anything to let her know that she was making a fool out of herself and confessing things that shouldn't be said out loud. She felt like her heart was about to explode out of her chest, the sounds of the movie fading completely away as those words left his perfect lips. 

"Bucky..." Her voice came out quieter than intended but she didn't really know what to do with herself. 

Maybe she had fallen asleep too and this was all in her head. Had he really returned her feelings or was it some sick joke from her subconscious? Perhaps he was just saying that as to not make it awkward and was getting ready to bolt out the front door. 

Bucky shook his head, and sat up, scooting closer and hesitantly taking her hands in his, "Jayden I - I was," he let out a small breath and looked down at their entwined fingers, "a shell of a person when I moved into this building," his voice had a small shake to it, causing Jayden to give his hand a small squeeze, urging him to continue. 

"I was lost and alone... Until the day you knocked on my door," Bucky breathed out a laugh and looked up once more, his blue eyes glistening with the threat of sadness, "You brought sunshine and hope back into my otherwise bleak and terrifying life... Of course I fell in love with you," he admitted, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, tracing a small circle into her skin with his thumb.

Jayden felt tears threaten to fall from her eyes, making them sting. Her heart was pounding hard enough that she knew he would be able to feel it beneath his touch. “Y-you love me?” She couldn’t help but ask, her voice just a whisper. 

Bucky only smiled at her as he gently wiped an escaped tear from her cheek. “Of course I love you. I love you so much my heart could bust, my little blue jay. It aches for me to leave you every mission I do. But I am always racing to get back here to you.”

“I don’t— I can’t—“ 

“Sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, hauling her onto his lap with a soft “c’mere.” 

Jayden melted into him, her face tucked into his neck. 

“We’re idiots,” she sniffled, her body shaking with Bucky’s as he laughed, rich and rough with sleep. 

“I’m an idiot, not tellin’ you sooner.” 

“When did you know?” She asked, meeting his gaze — steel blue and full of tender adoration. Her fingers moved to trace his jaw, thumbing at the dimple in his chin. 

“That first time you suggested the sticker system,” he admits, “I couldn’t believe— I couldn’t believe someone other than Sam cared enough to know I was home safe and yet there you were. This gorgeous woman, greeted me with the most beaming smile every time she saw me, baking me cookies and— God, Jay. I had fuckin’ butterflies over you every time. Me? Butterflies!” 

Jayden sighed, content as she studies his strong features, lined with sleep and love for her.

"Say it again please." She begged. Voice low and thick with emotion and tears.

Jayden's eyes were committing every little detail of his face to her memory, she wouldn't allow herself to ever forget this moment. She wanted it on constant repeat until her last breath.

His ocean eyes were sparkling waters as his face broke out into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling and she could have done anything just to see that smile light up his face all the time.

Both his palms lifted to rest on her face, thumbs brushing back and over her skin as he pulled her closer and she felt him take a deep breath before focusing his gaze back on her eyes and whispering softly in the few inches between them.

"I. Love. You."

Her hands rested against his chest, feeling the way his heart thundered under her palm only sent hers into a frenzy. She dipped her head, pressing her forehead to his, her eyes sliding closed, "again," she whispered only to hear the words roll off his tongue like a prayer once more. 

Bucky chuckled softly, "I love you, my sweet Bluejay." 

Jay's fingers dug gently into the hard muscle of his chest and for once she didn't wonder what he would feel like under the weight of her touch. His breath fanned across her face as he pulled back gently, his eyes a bright shade of blue and the flecks of silver in them glittering back at her, "I really wanna kiss you right now," he admitted, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly, "can I kiss you?" 

She sucked in a breath and barely had time to nod her head before his lips were pressed against hers, slotting perfectly together like the missing piece to the puzzle of her life. It was tentative at first, slow but sweeter than anything she could have imagined. He tasted like chocolate with a bite of the cinnamon she claimed as the secret ingredient in her cookies. Her cookies had never tasted better than how they did on his lips. 

He pulled back gently, his hand pushing back the long tendrils of her golden hair behind her ear, "that was..." 

"I love you," she blurted in a whisper, remembering that she hadn't said it back in the frenzy and plea for her lips, "I don't know how much of what I said you heard, but I think I've loved you since the day I found the first sticker on my door." 

The corners of his mouth quirked up again as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, "The bluejay," he whispered against her gently. 

Jayden nodded her head, her hands skating up and around the back of his neck to play with the hair at his nape. His arm snaked around her waist holding her firmly against his chest. "The bluejay," she repeated. 

She leaned in to kiss him again, allowing herself to melt into the man before her. The stubborn, flirty, goofy man that bared himself to her with no regrets. He was hers. Her Bucky. Something she never thought would be possible and yet...

She was always unequivocally his.

[mondaymelon]

always. (kou x mitsuba x gn!reader)

warnings/notes! poly relationship, human reader, fluff, surprisingly... wholesome?

(a/n) requested by @originisanend!! thank you ♡

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"What are you... doing...?" Kou blinked his cyan eyes repeatedly, the confused expression only deepening as he tried to follow Mistuba's movements.

"Putting together a scrapbook, silly. Stop being dumb, hella-lame-traffic-safety-earring boy." Mistuba stuck his tongue out at the said man before returning his attention back to the photos he had printed out.

"I told you to stop calling me that! We're dating, but you're still always insulting me!" Kou pouted, cheeks flushing as he whined.

Mistuba turned to look at you, pink eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah... but I think it's a good name. After all, it fits you well. And I think..." The rosy-haired man sent you a not-so-subtle wink before continuing. "They like it too."

"Liar." Kou turned to look at you with his oceany doe eyes, silently begging you to take his side. "You aren't agreeing with Mistuba, are you?"

Blinking rapidly, you shook your head. "Hey, leave me out of this...!"

"You heard it," Mistuba chimed in, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "So now let's just kindly leave that argument and focus on what's important here."

Kou didn't seem pleased, but obliged nonetheless. Perhaps he had the memory of a goldfish, or was just too kind for his own good, but after not long at all, he was already back to being his usual sunny self.

"Where are we putting this one?" Kou asked curiously, glancing at Mistuba and you while pointing to a picture of the three of you standing in the school garden. It had been taken a couple of months ago, when it was much warmer outside. Just seeing the photo brought back good memories that made you feel warm inside.

"WHY ARE THERE SO MANY FUCKING WEEDS-" Mistuba had been put in charge of garden cleanup for the school summer cleaning, and he certainly was not pleased. If that alone hadn't been enough, he had forced the two of you to come along with him. He said it was to keep him company, but the both of you knew that it was just so he could do less work.

"Now, now Mistuba, let's calm down..." Kou had acted as the mediator out of the trio, occasionally having to bandage up any scraps or cuts you got while doing the heavy work outside.

"I'm out." You had said after about an hour of working in the blazing heat. Your hands were sore and your back ached from having to bend over at harsh angles.

Yashiro had come along then, and taken a photo of the three of you. She giggled over it for weeks, although soon forgot about it. The love-stricken girl really did have the memory of a goldfish, considering she became one whenever she touched water.

"Ah, that..." Mistuba scowled, glancing up at you with vengeful eyes. "I still haven't gotten my revenge for you abandoning me, you know."

"Oh no~ I'm so scareddd~~" You giggled your ass off for about a minute before helping Mistuba glue on the final touches. Kou was digging about in a pouch of glitter and stickers, searching for some that matched the current spread the three of you were working on.

"Here!" The boy handed you several flowery stickers, along with a couple quotes and a real dry-pressed daisy. You gingerly took them from his hold, lightly brushing his hand in the process. Kou didn't directly say anything, but you saw him flinch and immediately cover his mouth with his hand.

Laughing to yourself, you placed the final touches on the spread before stepping back and taking a look to admire it. Across the top, written in Mistaba's semi-scribbly handwriting, were the words 私たちの夏, or Our Summer.

There were several photos, including the garden one. Another was during sports day and showed Kou passing the baton to you in a relay race, with Mistuba in the back cheering the two of you on. Another showed the time where you and Mistuba had attempted to make a cake for Kou's birthday... but it had turned out a little lopsided and the blue frosting turned out more purple-like instead. Nevertheless, Kou had almost bursted to tears when the two of you showed up at his residence, holding the cake tray in one hand and a present in the other.

They were pleasant photos, little bundles of warm memories and feelings. Kou glanced at you, seeing your satisfied expression, and whispered to Mistuba, "We should do this more often."

"We'll have plenty of time to this again."

"You'll always be with me, right? In sickness or in health..."

"Yes."

"Always."

[echo-bleu]

a flower by any other name

A little fic I wrote for @jaskierswolf as a live-write piece in the Passiflora Discord. Geraskier, about 1.1K, modern AU, fluff, nonbinary Jaskier using they/them (and accidentally, both Jaskier and Geralt ended up autistic). On AO3.

"Geralt Geralt Geralt!"

“Hm?" Geralt rolls around, blinking awake from his nap, only to be assaulted by flailing arms and nearly mauled by a flying laptop. He sets the laptop aside and gently catches his partner's wrists with his other hand, pressing them against his chest until they settle down. "What's going on?"

"I think I found my name!"

Geralt blinks. They've been on a name hunt for what feels like an eternity now. The last pick was Dandelion, which stuck for long enough that Geralt had started to think that it would be definitive, but his partner has been oddly resistant to sharing it with anyone but Geralt. "Hm?"

"Jaskier!"

"Like the flower?"

"Yes! I was looking in the wrong language, but I know it's right, now. It's perfect. Exactly the name that fits me, can you see it?"

Geralt grunts pensively. Jaskier beams at him and claps their hands, freeing them from Geralt's grasp. They grab the laptop again and turn the screen toward Geralt, showing an overblown photograph of a buttercup.

"I like it," Geralt decides, repeating the sounds in his head. "It does fit you."

"Thank you!" Jaskier squeals. They launch themself at Geralt and the laptop almost flies across the room again. "Jaskier," they murmur in Geralt's neck.

"Jaskier," Geralt repeats. "Jaskier. It's a beautiful name."

"Do you want to tell everyone?" Geralt asks later, when he's standing in front of the stove watching over their dinner.

"Hm."

It's such an uncharacteristic reaction for Jaskier that Geralt whirls around to face them. They're staring at their unlit phone, deep in thought, absently playing with a fidget cube.

"Hm?" Geralt tries. Grunts are his way of communicating, not Jaskier's.

“I don't know," Jaskier mutters.

Geralt thinks it over, flipping the omelette and catching a mushroom before it falls off the pan. "Do you want them to call you Jaskier?"

"Yes," Jaskier responds immediately. But they don't add anything more, and they still look disheartened for some reason.

"Are you scared of how they'll react?"

"No! Yes. No. I don't know. I know they're fine with... me," they make a vague gesture toward their body, "and they gender me right and everything but..."

"But what?" Geralt prompts when Jaskier trails off.

"What if they don't like it?"

Geralt stays stumped for a moment, realizing that Jaskier had no such fear with him. As far as he can tell, they told him straight away. His chest aches with love.

He pulls the pan off the fire, transferring the omelette onto a plate, and he moves over to wrap his arms around Jaskier from behind.

"Do you want me to tell them?" he asks.

Jaskier breathes out slowly, releasing their pent-up energy into the hug. They bring an arm up to squeeze Geralt's hand just the way he likes it. "Would you?"

"For you? I'd do anything."

It takes Geralt about an hour to figure out how he wants to do it, which is far too long when he knows that Jaskier is anxiously waiting and trying to keep it all in. Finally, with a muttered "fuck it", he does something that he would never normally do: he lifts his phone and takes a selfie of both of them, hugging in front of his sloppy omelette.

Bon appétit from Jaskier and me, he captions the photo, adding the only buttercup sticker he can find in the app, and he sends it to the group chat.

Jaskier is the one who normally sends everyone random pictures through the day -- in fact, they created the group chat. It's made up of mostly Geralt's family (Ciri, of course, Ciri's mother Yennefer, Geralt's brothers and Vesemir) plus Jaskier's best friend Essi, since they don't talk to their own family. It's full of banter and encouragements, bits of recorded songs from Jaskier and Essi's band, regular kitty photo battles between Ciri and Lambert, with the occasional baby goat interruption thanks to Eskel, Vesemir's homecooking and Yen's fancy restaurant dishes. Geralt rarely participates properly, uncomfortable with the group setting. He knows Jaskier mainly created it for him, during the worst of his struggles with depression and PTSD, but he's content with opening the app a few times a day and reading through the messages, feeling the love.

OMFG IT'S SUCH A PRETTY NAME ��� is Ciri's immediate response. Then, I'm jealous now. Of course she'd be the one to get it first.

Congratulations Jaskier!! comes Yennefer's reaction. Jaskier and her have had a tumultous relationship, mostly owing to Geralt's own issues with her between their divorce and the moment he started dating Jaskier, but the hardships of the last couple years have brought them together in ways Geralt couldn't have imagined.

JASKIER!! so lovely 😭 comes from Essi. Geralt hears Jaskier's phone buzz one more time, and he knows she wrote them privately as well.

"She's asking if I'm only trying it out or if it's time to throw me a name reveal party," Jaskier laughs tearily.

"What do you think?" Geralt asks, finally digging into the omelette, one arm still around Jaskier's shoulders. It's almost cold, but he doesn't mind.

"I know it's the right one. I'm not sure about a party."

"You love parties."

More congratulations are coming from Eskel and Lambert, both enthusiastic and friendly but devoid of the usual level of banter -- they're both unsure how much joking is okay on the subject of Jaskier's gender, Geralt knows. Lambert has put his foot in his mouth more than once before he learned to navigate some of the finer points.

Jaskier stays silent for a beat more. "I don't know," they murmur.

Geralt's phone beeps again. Vesemir. Jakie piękne imię. Geralt squints at it, needing a second to understand, and he feels Jaskier melt against him. They let out a small sob and turn to bury their face in Geralt's neck.

Of course. Of course Jaskier was waiting for Vesemir's approval. Vesemir has been nothing but welcoming to them, if a little awkward and confused with pronouns on occasions, but Jaskier's overall experience with parental figure is less than stellar. Choosing a name in Vesemir's own mother tongue, announcing it, must have been nerve-wracking for them.

Geralt hugs them tightly, giving up on his omelette, and lets them sob into his shoulder. It's good crying. “I'll take the party," they laugh through their tears, sending dziękuję bardzo 💙 in response to Vesemir's message and an assortment of emojis to the others -- which goes to show how emotional they are, as they normally never shut up even in texts.

"I love you," Geralt whispers, already wondering where he can find bouquets of buttercup in the middle of the winter.

The Polish phrases translate to "what a beautiful name" and "thank you so much", huge thanks to Niko for helping me with that.

[boldlyvoid]

Wheels Up

Characters: Spencer Reid, Reader (Y/N), Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Savannah Hayes, Emily Prentiss, Elle Greenaway, Tara Lewis, Jennifer Jareau, Matt Simmons, Luke Alvez

Summary: JJ goes on maternity leave, Spencer falls in love with her replacement that he's supposed to be mentoring, Emily Prentiss and Elle Greenaway work a case together that brings Simmons and Alvez in for help...

Warnings: Genius!Reader, mutual pining, idiots in love, drinking, star gazing, lots of fluff, mentions of past assault, grooming, drug addiction, spencer's trauma, Abductions, Rape, Murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 9.4K

a/n: this is for @starry-eyed-spence and @simmonsmilf CM fanfiction week, Day One: Favorite Character... only I couldn't pick just one.

To say Spencer fell in love at the least opportune time was a bit of an understatement. Everyone he’s ever come close to admitting his love to has either left him or died. Now he’s stuck with loving someone in secret, keeping it to himself and hoping that one day she’ll love him back.

He fell in love with a co-worker once again… which wasn’t the worst thing, office romances happen and it’s quite frankly all Rossi’s fault that they even had to worry about fraternization policies. The part that makes liking Y/N so difficult is that he’s supposed to be her mentor, he’s 5 years older than her, and if he was to ever make a move she would feel inclined to reciprocate in order to keep her job because that’s the unfortunate truth behind office relationships with significant differences in positions.

And worst of all… she doesn’t like him that way at all. She’s called him the brother she always needed, a best friend, the best mentor ever. She wasn’t interested in him in the slightest.

“And why would she be?” He’s said this to everyone who knew about his crush on her. “I’m old and boring and she’s so cool?”

But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand that every time she asked him to hang back to help her file something, or when they would buddy up in hotel rooms to discuss cases all night and end up down some star trek rabbit hole instead, every time he talked to her she was falling in love with him right back.

It once again all circles back to Rossi, if it wasn’t for him, Spencer wouldn’t even know her. She wouldn’t have ever been introduced to the unit, he wouldn’t be attached to her at the hip and he probably wouldn’t be as happy as he is with her in his life. Even if she wasn’t his girlfriend.

He’ll never forget the day Rossi asked him to meet her, to help her settle in…

“Spencer, can I talk to you for a minute?” Rossi called him into his office.

He sighed, putting his book down and walking up the stairs to his office. He closed the door behind himself and smiled awkwardly, “what’s up?”

“Sit,” he gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, where Spencer pulls one out and proceeds to sit down, anxiously. “As you know, both Kate and JJ will be out of the field in the next few months to have their babies and we need to bring someone in to fill the void until they return, so I reached out to the academy to see if they have any up and coming Dr. Reid like agents that they could loan us.”

“Why?” Spencer laughs at the choice of words.

“Well, honestly, why get new 2 agents when we could have two Reid’s? JJ will be back after a month or 2, it’s better to have more brains than brawn.”

“So they found someone and you want me to be their chaperone?” Spencer clues in. “Who are they?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, she’s a wonderful agent, but she’s pretty quiet, I don’t know much about her personally.” Rossi prefaces. “She’s a genius, high IQ like yours and just a plethora of knowledge inside that mind of hers. You’ll like her.”

“Alright,” he nods. “When do they start?”

“When JJ’s water breaks, but I’d like you to meet them and maybe even have them shadow you for a day?” Rossi asks, “I’ve actually arranged for you both to get dinner at a friend's restaurant?”

“Is this an arranged date or purely business? Don’t send me in there blind,” he worries. “I need at least a week's prep before I go on a date again.”

“It’s not a date, kid,” Rossi laughs. “She's just a lot like you were when I met you, and I know from watching you all these years that it’s not easy to do it alone, so can you just walk them through it?”

“Of course.”

That first dinner Rossi set up for them was more exquisite than either of them prepared for.

They spent the whole night discussing dissertations and their independent journeys through becoming a genius. He understood perfectly why Rossi and the Academy would think she was a lot like him, she was a genius, but she was awkward. It took a while for her to break out of her shell and open up, but by the end of the night, he already knew they were going to be friends.

“So,” she smirks, “would you mind telling me honestly how hard this job is?”

“Why?”

She sighs, “I’ve heard a lot about Thee Doctor Reid and how you were the youngest hired to the BAU and all the shit you’ve been through.”

“What are the rumours these days?” He awkwardly smiles back, rolling his eyes slightly.

“That you were brain dead in a cemetery from an overdose and yet you’re so smart you came back from the dead to kill the unsub and escape…” she looks more and more disappointed in the rumour as she tells it.

His tongue hits the roof of his mouth as he opens it to speak, making a tsk noise as he shakes his head. “Well, I did OD but it was the unsubs main personality that resuscitated me.”

“Holy shit,” she whispers.

He nods, “what about you? I’m sure you have a reputation based on a rumour?”

She presses her lips together the way he always did, just as awkward. She sighs, huffing the air out of her nose and looking fed up. “I was groomed and assaulted by an older boy who then told kids I had a stalkerish crush on him so if I was to ever tell anyone what happened, then no one would believe me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer knows the words don’t make up for what happened. “I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to get into profiling?”

She nods, “I got away with some PTSD and trust issues, most girls go through much worse… they deserve someone who gets it to look into their cases.”

Spencer nods. “That’s how I felt after my kidnapping too. It took a while for me to look at crime scene photos and not think about how they felt, and wonder why I lived when so many die?”

“I’ve never been a religious person,” she prefaces. “But I do believe we are here for a reason. Whether you choseto be here after your last life or this is some learning opportunity, or God is actually real? And you’re supposed to do good.”

“In narcotics anonymous, they reference god a lot, it’s helpful for the addicts, but I never get into it,” he opens up with her more than he’s ever opened up with any friend. “If my Devine purpose is to suffer in order to relate to those I’m supposed to help that’s a load of bullshit… honestly, I can get pretty angry thinking about why I’ve gone through what I’ve gone through doing this job, but it’s not as bad as what happened to me growing up, and it leads me to believe that I probably wouldn’t have had an easy time no matter how I live.”

She nods, “I know, I get that.”

“Sorry,” he snaps out of it. “I didn’t mean to trauma dump on you.”

“It’s exactly what I asked for actually,” she reminds him with a soft smile. “If you can still come to work every day, after all that, you must be incredibly strong— and if I’m anything like you the way people say I am, I guess I can do it too.”

He had no idea she would end up being his best friend.

She shadowed him just once in the office, picked up everything right off the bat and immediately made a name for herself in the unit. Derek tried multiple names on her before one stuck, and they knew it stuck when even Hotch called her Baby Genius.

She brought a different knowledge base to the team, similar to Spencers but visibly younger. She fit in with the crowds of kids they had to interview, she understood why kids reacted the way they did to trauma and abuse, and she was still a kid at heart. It was the reason Spencer fell for her.

She allowed him to feel free again. They went out together outside of work, going to events he always wanted to go to with a partner but never had a chance. She loved all the same things as him, and she takes him to places he’d never imagine enjoying before her.

Like laser tag… that was an afternoon he’ll never forget with her.

When JJ went into labour, that’s when Y/N started full time and Hotch hired Tara Lewis in the same week. The team barely had time to adjust to being undermanned before they were restocked.

Joining Spencer every morning for every case, she waited out front of her apartment for him to pick her up most mornings, sticking to his side throughout the long days and nights until he drove her home again. Even at work, they were partnered up for everything: heading to the M.E. together, bouncing facts back and forth at the precinct, playing good cop bad cop with perverts, and her personal favourite… Making the geoprofile.

And Spencer liked doing that part with her as well. Because it typically meant they were completely alone in a room, spreading out a map and leaning in close to each other as they placed every sticker and marker. Brushing hands, bumping shoulders, longing glances as they made connections… he also just liked to watch her hands move.

She was delicate and careful and precise… and he was falling in love with everything about her as the days went by.

Everyone on the team had noticed. It was really hard not to when they’ve all known Spencer for almost 11 years now. He was so different with her in his life, he was happy and giddy and dressing even better than before. His hair was perfect and he was glued to Y/N’s side. Or she was glued to his.

Even though they were mentally similar, physically they were polar opposites. Y/N wore all black and was a lot more outgoing than they expected. Rossi thought she’d be quiet… But she was constantly talking. To Spencer, to other officers, to witnesses, she never stopped talking and starting conversations, and thank god she did because she’s cracked 4 cases that way.

The biggest surprise the team learned about her happened on a case in Florida, a shooting in a local park in broad daylight with lots of witnesses meant the whole team was on the boardwalk asking questions. She went out to do her thing, talking to the local skaters, asking them if they knew anything but they didn’t want to cooperate.

They were too cool for the feds.

“Can I see your board?” She asks, “if I do some tricks will you answer some questions for me and Doctor Reid?”

“Knock yourself out,” one of the boys laughs as he hands her his board.

She hands Spencer her gun and shoots him a wink before taking off to do a few tricks. The whole team watches in awe then as Y/N showed off. Cruising along the halfpipe effortlessly like she was a professional.

“Okay Tony Hawk,” Morgan teases her, “where did that come from?”

“Skateboarding is easy, it’s just physics,” she shrugs. “I can figure skate too…”

“What do you want to know?” The boy takes his board back. “We always see some sketchy guys around here.”

Morgan pats Y/N on the back with a smile, applauding her ability to get anyone to open up before leaving her to take the statement.

“Agent?” One of the girls pulls her aside just before they are about to leave, “how did you do that kickflip? I’ve been trying to learn and the boys won't help me.”

“Sure thing,” she takes the girl's board and demonstrates a kickflip first.

“So, you see as I start the kickflip I bend my knees?” She shows her another kickflip all while explaining it. “Much like the with an ollie, I’m building pressure so I can apply it to the tail, making the board pop. The one thing that makes this trick different from the ollie is that instead of sliding my foot up, I just flick my toe out to the right of the board, by doing this, the board flips in a 360-degree motion.

She demonstrates again and it’s another flawless kickflip, and a huge smile on her face as Spencer watches her.

“How fast the board spins depends on how much force I put into it when I flick it out. As soon as the board flips in a full 360, your feet should connect and drive the board back to the ground.”

She hands the board back to the girl, “your turn.”

She takes a deep breath and shakes her nerves out before taking off on her board, looping around and carefully bending her knees, she follows every step and it’s a flawless kickflip.

“Flawless!!” Y/N claps. “Those boys better watch out, you’re a natural.”

“Thank you,” she wraps her arms around Y/N and gives her a hug, “it’s taken me so long to be able to do that, you’re so cool.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles. “Good luck out there.”

She waves as she takes off on her board, leaving Y/N with a smile as she turns to Spencer. “I miss being that age and thinking everything is so cool.”

“You are really cool,” he agrees. Smiling softly as a blush fills his cheeks. “You’re always surprising me. Is there anything you can’t do?”

She laughs, “yeah the one thing I want to do the most.”

“Which is?”

She sighs, “maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

—

He’s sitting beside Penelope and Savannah, watching Derek and Y/N get drinks for what’s left of the group as the night drags on.

“When are you going to tell her?” Savannah asks.

“What?” Spencer pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You have a crush on the new girl…” she pokes his cheek as he blushes and gives it away. “Tell her, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“She could feel forced to say yes because I’m a supervisory special agent and she isn’t and she wants to keep her job so she feels like she needs to,” Spencer worries. “I want her to like me back because she fell for me and I want her to initiate it because then I’ll know it’s not just a power dynamic issue.”

“Have you tried asking her, genius?” Penelope teases. “Because if you asked her then you’d know she has a crush on you and she’s afraid you’ll turn her down because you’re an SSA and she isn’t.”

“When did you hear that?”

Penelope pretends to lock up her lips and throw away the key, making Savannah laugh loud enough to get Derek's attention at the bar. When he and Y/N return, that’s when the questions start.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Spencer gets up and leaves the booth, walking out towards the smokers' exit at the back of the bar, getting a moment of semi-fresh air to think about what Penelope said.

“Spence?” She calls to him from the door, “are you okay? Can I come out here?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry, I needed some air, it’s nothing.”

“Do you need a hug? I read it helps the most when people are stressed out,” she plays it off with a shrug.

“So you do have a crush on me?”

“She told you?” Her face lights with fury, “what the fuck, Penelope?”

“She didn’t mean to,” he tries to cover it up. “It was only brought up because I have feelings for you as well.”

Her eyes widen, her brows raise and her mouth slowly opens as she freezes.

“Y/N?”

She blinks a few times and shakes her head, “impossible. There’s no way.”

He laughs, “I’ll take that hug now?”

She lunges for him and wraps her arms around him so tight. Breathing him in, her hands wander his back as she takes in every second if it and he does the same. He can’t believe she’s that close to him, her hair smells nice and she’s so soft in his arms.

It’s quiet outside, they can hear the music behind the door, the people in the ally talking and the crickets in the night. It’s just them outside, holding each other in the smoking section with smiles on their faces, amazed that it’s finally happening.

“Can we keep this between us?” She whispers into his ear. “Just for a bit? I don’t want to go through all the paperwork and have to separate in the field if it doesn’t work out?”

“Wait,” Spencer pulls back. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

She nods, “well yeah isn’t that what happens when two people have a mutual crush? They date?”

“Okay,” he smiles, staring at her lips and then flicking his gaze back to hers with a blush. “I have more than a crush on you, I really, really like you.”

“Prove it,” she teases, “let's go on a real date soon?”

“You know what, let’s get out of here. I have something I want to show you,” he takes her hand and waits for her to nod.

“Take my lead okay? You don’t feel good and you’re going to wait outside while I say goodbye,” she has a plan right away

“After you,” he holds the door open for her and lets her inside first.

—

“I’m taking Spencer home, he’s not doing well,” she’s a much better actress than Spencer expected, patting his back and watching him leave the bar before her like she asked him to do. “He’s really anxious?”

Penelope looks worried, “oh no, I fucked up. I told him you like him.”

She just shrugs, “if he didn’t know that already then I guess he’s not as smart as he pretends to be.”

“See,” Derek looks at Savannah. “I told you everyone else also thinks he’s faking being that smart.”

“Shut up,” she shoves him and turns her attention back to Y/N. “Go make him feel better, he’ll like your company.”

“I’ll see you guys at work on Monday,” she waves them goodbye, surprised they bought it as she rushes her way back outside to Spencer.

He’s already in his car, engine running and waiting for her with a smile. “Come on,” he hurries her inside and is taking off down the road before she even has her seatbelt on yet.

“What’s the rush, Spence? It’s only 1 in the morning I’m sure tones of places are open still?” She teases.

“You’re going to like this, I used to go here all the time when I started with the bureau,” he explains, leaving the main road to take a back root, and eventually they’re driving on gravel.

“If you’re taking me here to murder me this is a dumb way to do it because they all know I left with you,” she teases. “At least when you go to get rid of me, do yourself a favour and dig 6 one-foot holes instead of one 6 foot hole…”

He laughs, “would you really give your murderer tips?”

She nods, “my goal would be to piss him off so much he either lets me go or murders me quickly. I don’t want to go through all the pain.”

“It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” he shrugs it off but she knows it hits too hard.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching her hand out for his to hold by the gear shift. “I think you’re like the strongest guy in the world, you know that, right?”

“Why?” He asks as if that's a preposterous thing to say.

“I think if I got kidnapped and tortured at 24 I wouldn’t still be working in the FBI,” she admits. “I barely made it through the academy, I know this job is intense but I don’t think I could handle being in that situation.”

“If it’s up to me,” Spencer squeezes her hand tighter and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “You’ll never experience anything like that.”

He’s so good at making her feel safe that she almost believes he has the power to do that. He would do anything and everything to move fate for her safety.

He turns down another back road then, around the edge of a lake and towards a clearing. He follows old tire tracks and parks by the dock. “I found this spot one night on a random drive to clear my head.”

“I thought you hated driving?” She quizzes him.

He shrugs, “I like to drive at night when no one else is on the road because then I don’t really have to worry about anyone else. I hate driving because I can’t always anticipate other drivers' movements. If I could read minds, then I’d drive more.”

“Valid,” she nods, “now why is this such a special spot that you needed to show me right away?”

“Well, I have a telescope and it’s been in my trunk for the last 13 years so that every time I come here, I can look up at the moon…”

“You brought me here to look at the moon with you?” She swoons, “that’s so cute.”

“You think?” He looks like his heart is doing the same swelling as hers.

She gets out of the car before she can lean over and kiss him the way she wants to. In his trunk, he does have a telescope, and a blanket, which they set out on the dock and sit upon.

The sound of the lake, the loons in the distance, frogs and crickets and music travelling from somewhere down the lake. The moon was big, the stars were amazing, and this was the closest she has ever seen them. It's amazing, and of course, it was Spencer showing her everything.

He was everything to her.

And it didn’t take long for him to become everything to her either.

Joining the BAU was a dream to many at the academy, but Y/N never thought that she would get the job, overjoyed that she did. They were a family unit; they got the job done, they protected each other, and it was a wonderful environment to be a part of. She obviously liked Spencer the most out of everyone. He took her in, he made her feel comfortable and safe and she opened up more with him than she has with anyone she’s labelled a “best friend” in the past.

She liked everything about him. The way he talked with his hands, how his sweater, vest, shirt and tie always match, his gun looks a little out of place on his belt, like it’s too big for him, but it’s cute. His hair’s been getting longer too, sometimes he wears glasses and sometimes if she’s lucky, he doesn’t shave every day.

She can’t take her eyes off him when he’s busy and won't notice, just to then move her focus away when he stared at her. She only wishes she could see the way he stares at her in awe, because if it’s anything like how she looks at him, he must love her.

She keeps her hand in his, trading the telescope back and forth in turns, her face was close to his every time they switched and she kept getting bolder with each exchange. Letting Spencer look, she kept her face close to his, kissing his cheek softly as soon as he was busy peering up at the moon.

He turned to her with a gasp, “what was that for?”

“You’re cute,” she shrugs. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”

“How long?” He teases, leaning in closer and kissing her nose to make her laugh.

“Since you dropped me off at my house after that first dinner…”

“So this is me,” she nods out the window, “thank you for the ride, I appreciate not having to be in an Uber all by myself.”

“Anytime you need a ride, you can give me a call?” He asks. “Seeing as we’ll be going to the same place anyway.”

She nods with a smile, “I’d love that, do you live close to here?”

“Just up the street,” he nods. “So we could carpool?”

“I can drive some days if you want?” She asks, “I know you mostly take the subway, and I know that because I’ve seen you reading on there before.”

He can’t help but smile, “so you never thought to say hello?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “you looked peaceful, and I’m sure you don’t get many moments like that in your line of work.”

He sighed, knowing she was right. “If it ever gets to be too much for you, please never feel like you have to pretend to be okay? None of us expect you to be stone cold, none of us are either. The job gets to us, just tell me if it gets to be too much?”

She looks from his lips back to his eyes and over again, “thanks, Spencer.”

He does the same to her, “anytime. Should I walk you to your door?”

She shakes her head, “that’s okay you’ve done enough for me tonight.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “Have a good night Y/N.”

“You too, Spencer,” she smiles before she exits his car, smiling at him from her porch before he drives away.

“So it’s been mutual this whole time?” He shakes his head at the absurdity. “I’ve been so lonely for so long and then I found you and you make me feel like I don’t need to be alone anymore.”

“You complete me too,” she makes one more comment before connecting their lips.

It’s like the world stops then. It’s silent and serene and everything she thought kissing Spencer Reid would be.

She pulls back with a smirk, “oh no.”

“What?” He worries.

“I’m going to want to kiss you all the time now…”

“Good,” he mumbles the words against her lips before reconnecting them.

—

At work on Monday, it’s very hard for them to look at each other without remembering that they’ve kissed. Spencer’s practically glowing with admiration for her that he gives it all away. He’s overly happy, offering to do things for others, standing way too close to her and bringing her coffee all morning.

“Okay, pretty boy,” Derek takes him by the scruff of the neck and redirects him into his office. “What’s going on with you today, I know you’re not this happy for JJ’s return?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you get laid or something?”

Spencer laughs, “no, you know I don’t get laid. You actually remind me of that fact quite often.”

“You’re so happy I’m worried you’ve moved to crack,” he says it. “Okay, you were acting weird on Friday, you missed brunch on Sunday and now you’re waaay too happy.”

“I’m not on drugs again,” Spencer assures him. “I’m just letting myself enjoy my time with Y/N, if she falls in love with me in the meantime that would also be nice.”

“Oh, so you’re doing this to get laid,” Derek teases him again. “That’s good, I’m sorry if I triggered you by asking, but I had to make sure you’re okay.”

“No, no,” he places his hands on Derek's shoulders, “thank you for caring.”

“Always—“

“Guys!” They hear Hotch yelling from the bullpen, cutting the tender moment short, saving Spencer from spilling the truth.

Rushing back, he sits beside Y/N at the briefing room table. “We have a bad one,” Emily Prentiss of all people walks in the door, followed by Elle Greenaway.

“We’ll have time to mingle in a minute, right now there is a woman who needs our help,” he announces.

Spencer quickly reads over the case files, recognizing Elles handwritten notes, she was a private investigator now. “With Penelope’s help, I’ve been able to set up alerts in College chatrooms in the area so that I can help to missing and assaulted women right away.”

“She’s alerted when someone reports a missing woman and she has advertisements for people to reach out to her for help,” Penelope explained.

“I’ve been working on these cases for the last 9 years,” Elle announces. “This morning Aasia Desai called me saying her sister Bahni never showed up for lunch and it’s not like her, we know she went clubbing last night and so far Penelope’s tracked her down an ally and then she’s gone.”

“Her parents are British diplomats so Interpol has asked me to join, luckily I was just in Ontario so it was a short trip over,” Emily adds. “JJ will be here in half an hour for her first day back, and we will celebrate when we can, but I see we have some new faces here?”

“Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” she waves, still glued to Spencer’s side. “I’ve heard a lot about you both from Doctor Reid.”

“Doctor Tara Lewis,” she stands and shakes Emily’s hand, and then Elles.

“So it says here that the first missing case was in 2006 just after you left the BAU?” Spencer changes the subject before anyone can pry into why he would be telling her about the women who worked there before her.

“I did,” Elle nods. “I was too late for her, by the time her parents realized she was missing and called me in the case was cold. I started this as a way to get ahead of it.”

“How long has she been missing?” Tara asks.

“She was last seen at 1:07 this morning,” Elle confirms. “We have 25 hours, maybe, to beat the odds.”

“Reid,” Hotch cuts in, “I would like you and Elle to go check out the street she was last seen on, find any private cameras or anyone who might have seen something.”

He turns to Y/N who just shrugs in silence; “it’s fine.”

“Tara and Derek, I’d like you to interview Aasia when she and JJ get here, Garcia can you do a deep dive into Bahni’s spending and academic records?”

“Sure thing,” she starts clicking away on her computer immediately.

“And Y/N,” Elle looks at her. “I need you to go over the footage of the man who followed her to the alley and get familiar with his face. We’re using you as the face of the investigation to hopefully draw the unsub out.”

“How would she be able to do that alone?” Spencer gets defensive, a way he used to with JJ when she was the media liaison.

“If she goes on the news and makes Bahni seem like a person while describing the unsub as someone who can help solve the case, it will draw him out,” Emily explains for Hotch, who is glaring at Spencer for second-guessing the plan already.

“And she’s college-age,” Elle adds. “If that’s who he’s been going after all this time he will want to come in and talk IF he can talk to her.”

She places her hand on his leg under the table, “it’s a good plan.”

“It is,” Hotch agrees.

“What do you not have a saying to replace wheels up when they stay in town?” Elle teases him.

“Wheels away?” Emily joins her, “that works?”

“just get to work,” Hotch tries not to smirk at them.

Spencer stands up to leave with Elle, “can I just talk to Spencer before he leaves?” She carefully asks Hotch.

“Make it quick,” he agrees reluctantly and lets her follow him down to his desk.

Spencer rests his hands on the back of his desk chair, holding it tightly in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I’m going to be fine,” she assures him. “I don’t think the guy on the tape took her, we’d see him leave if he did.”

“Unless he lives in the alley,” Spencer combats. “Can you ask Penelope to do a background check on all the cars coming in and out of the campus and that street between midnight at 2 am?”

She nods, placing her hand on his gently. “Good luck out there, okay?”

He nods, “it’s been 2 days they’re going to know by the end of the week.”

She laughs, “so be it.”

He says fuck it right then and there, wrapping her up in a hug and kissing the top of her head as the team watches in the briefing room. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes you will,” she smacks his side as he lets her go. “If you’re going to make a scene at least give me a real kiss.”

“Hmm,” he teases. “No cause then I’d have to sign some paperwork and I’ve got to go…” he starts to back away.

“Coward,” she teases.

He just shrugs, meeting Elle by the door and heading towards the elevators in silence.

She doesn’t ask, not even when they get to the garage or inside the SUV. They’re driving down the road for maybe 2 minutes when Elle finally brings it up. “So—”

“What do you want to know?”

“It's that easy now? What happened to you?” She teases. “You’re so different from the baby Spence I left.”

“Well you missed my drug problem, my dad being a possible child molester, getting shot in the knee, getting shot in the neck, my girlfriend dying, and now my mom might have Alzheimer's so you know… I had to grow up a bit,” he lays it all out for her to ask any question she wants.

“Why don’t you ever call me? I would have been there for you through anything,” she reminds him.

“I know that,” he reaches over for her hand, “thank you. But I was a big fan of suffering in silence… and now I have Y/N and she makes me feel normal?”

“That’s good, you deserve some fraction of normal in your life and she’s really cute,” Elle smiles back at him before returning her focus to the road. “How old is she?”

“27,” he smiles. “She’s the best.”

“You love her,” Elle notices it.

He presses his lips together to fend off a smile as he nods, “I think I do.”

“Tell her, you deserve to hear that someone loves you back.”

—

She’s anxiously tapping her foot as she waits for the elevator to arrive with the suspect, Rossi standing just behind her. Only 15 minutes after being on the news, the man that was in the security footage contacted them. Making his way over for a voluntary interview.

He looks Y/N up and down with a smile, “I heard you were looking for me.”

“I sure was,” she plays along with it, smiling and making him think she’s interested as well. “I knew you’d get the message, we just need all the help we can get right now.”

“Of course,” he has his ego stroked so well that they can roll with it.

“Would you mind coming with me and Agent Rossi to talk about everything you saw?” She batts her lashes at him, really selling it.

“Sure,” he follows them down the hall.

Rossi opens the door and lets them in first, letting her get him settled and a glass of water. “So you can tell me everything from that night?”

“Sure,” he nods, explaining his taxi job, his run for the night and his alibi.

“So why did you step back into the doorway?” She asks as she sits in front of him. Straight-faced as she catches him off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“You stepped out of the way to let her pass and then followed her, she made no motion to say she wanted your services, so I’m just wondering why you would follow her before she disappeared?”

“Huh,” he suddenly feels played and his personality switches. “I thought this was just a chat?”

“I’m simply asking you questions? If you don’t have answers that makes you suspicious. An innocent person would have given me an answer,” she fights back.

“She’s right, you got very defensive very fast,” Rossi finally speaks up.

He shakes his head with a huff. “I was going to ask if she needed a ride, she looked pretty messed up. And then some guy came over and wrapped his arm around her and they walked off. They seemed to know one another. I thought she was safe in his hands.”

Only his tone doesn’t match the words. He sounds jealous— It’s not like she would have been a large tab, he wasn’t jealous because he lost a customer. No, he’s jealous like someone stepped in and prevented him from snatching an easy victim.

“Fair enough,” she pretends to believe him. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“I can go now?” He changes right back to confused.

She nods, “I’ll escort you down if you’d like?”

“Thanks,” he stands and follows her to the door where Rossi stops her.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, “I’ll be back up shortly.”

She catches up with him by the elevators, “did you have to drive far to get here?” She makes small talk.

“Not really,” he shakes it off. “I like your necklace.”

She touches her necklace and her face drops, “thanks.”

“Necklaces are my favourite.”

“You don’t wear any?” She notices in the form of a question.

He shakes his head as the elevator opens at the ground level. “I think they’re nice gifts.”

She nods along, pretending that didn’t set off every ret alert and alarm in her mind, “well here you are. Thanks again for all the help.”

“No problem,” he goes to leave, turning to stop and block the doors from closing. “If you want, later tonight I can show you everything I saw at the alley?”

“Yeah, sure,” she agrees with no plan to go.

“8 pm? At Cafe Linda?”

“See you then,” she agrees and he steps back letting the door close and then she loses her cool.

Feverishly smashing the floor 6 button, and begging to make it back up to Hotch to tell him everything. But she also just wants to cry but she holds it in as she makes it to their floor matching past Rossi and right into the briefing room.

“He may not be our unsub but that man is a creep,” she announces. “He not only complimented my necklace but he asked me to come to the alley tonight so he can walk me through what he saw.”

“You’re not going,” Hotch announces.

“I didn’t plan to,” she snaps. “I think we need to look into him because he’s either giving little girls necklaces to keep them quiet or he’s taking necklaces after he kills women.”

“Kathy’s parents said she was in a necklace when she went missing,” Emily adds. “His connection to this case and being at NYU right before she went missing gives us enough probable cause for a search warrant.”

Hotch sighs, “fine. I’ll call a judge, you and Y/N can go and search his place.”

“So shouldn’t we arrest him before he leaves the building?” Morgan asks.

“He’s still in the garage, I’ve let the security know to stop him and arrest him at the gate,” Garcia adds, listening in and planning in advance.

“Thank you,” Hotch smiles at her, “you’re always reading my mind.”

Garcia smiles back at him, “always, sir.”

“Okay, let’s go,” she looks at Emily and waiting for her to turn to leave the room.

“Let’s,” she motions for Y/N to take the lead and follows.

The drive to his house is so weird… she doesn’t quite know how to talk to Emily, knowing only slightly about her and her knowing nothing about Y/N.

“So how long have you and Spencer been dating?” Her first question just gets right to the point.

She laughs awkwardly, “3 days…”

“Oh…”

She hums as she nods along, looking out the window and avoiding Emily’s eye contact. “It’s new, we’re both pretty infatuated with each other but we’re taking it slower than most people because I’m afraid to let my feelings change how I do the job.”

“Makes sense,” Emily replies. Her voice is so sweet, she has an aura of calm that follows her and lets Y/N feel safe. She gets why Spencer said she was his best friend on the team before her.

“The necklace comment… why did it make you so wary of this guy?”

“When I was in middle school a guy gave me a necklace while he was grooming me,” she whispers. Looking out the window and pretending it doesn’t bother her now. “It’s fine, I don’t have it anymore, but I knew this guy had that same vibe.”

Emily put her hand out, letting Y/N interlock their fingers and hold it. “I know I just met you, but you’re family now. I’m here if you’re ever suddenly not fine with it anymore…”

“Thanks,” she smiles. “Let’s get this fucker.”

—

By the time the warrant went through, Spencer and Elle had joined them to search the first suspect's house while Emily left to help the rest of the team with suspect two. Tracking all the license plates in the area like Spencer suggested lead them to a Chinese food delivery driver in the area.

That didn’t stop Y/N from destroying her suspect's house. They tore the house apart, searching every nook and cranny for any answer that would make sense. She was tempted to lift the floorboards up, call in SCSI to run ground-penetrating radar and search the fucking walls if they had to.

But then she found it.

A small metal box in the laundry room contained some tools and when she lifted up the fake bottom, she found 5 necklaces.

“Elle!!” She yelled through the house.

They both came running down the hall to her, “is this Kathy’s necklace?”

“Oh my god,” she whispered with a nod.

“I want to kill this guy,” she mumbles under her breath as she places the necklaces back in the box and closes it up.

“Spencer doesn’t need another girl he has a crush on to murder someone and get kicked out of the bureau,” Elle teases.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Way to go,” Spencer nudges her.

Y/N stands up with the box and slides it into a large evidence bag before taping it up. “I guess he has a type then.”

“I don’t,” Spencer tries to cover up. “I mean, if I do then it’s people who are nice to me…”

She smiles at him, unable to even pretend to be jealous or mad. “It’s hard to be mean to you when you’re so cute.”

“Ew,” Elle announces her disgust as she leaves the room.

“Let’s get out of here before I end up kissing you in a murderer's laundry room,” Spencer teases, taking her hand and leading her out of the house as the rest of the forensics team takes over the bagging of evidence.

“Guys,” Elle rushes back to them with her phone pressed to her ear. “We have a bigger problem than we thought with Bahni.”

They rush into the SUV, putting the team on the speaker to hear the most unthinkable. “So I did what Y/N suggested and searched every single driver coming in and off-campus and the last street she was seen on,” Penelope explains back. “And I came across a man who was delivering Chinese food under the name Tom Larson… and it’s ironic his name is tom because he has a plethora of peeping offences and general creepiness alongside a metric shit-ton of abuse from his dad and dead mother.”

“Okay?” Elle follows.

“Tom Larson lives near Bahni,” Emily explains, “I was just at his house where I found him and his father had been murdered.”

“So we have not 1 but 3 creeps in this case, and none of them are who took Bahni?” Spencer rubs his eyes. “Please tell me we know who was in Tom’s car last night.”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Penelope says with the doles tones of keys clicking behind her words. “We were just contacted by the fugitive Taskforce because they believe one of the murderers they’ve been tracking took Bahni… but he has ties to a much larger scale global sex trafficking ring.”

Elle flies through the streets with their lights on, pulling back into headquarters and right up to the security check. “So who is this guy?”

“Once you get back up here, Agent Simmons and Alvez will explain everything,” Hotch confirms. “I’m taking Derek to see Cruze, we need to tell him what’s going on.”

“Sounds good,” Elle hangs up and throws the SUV in park.

Y/N hesitates, staying put and taking a few breaths as Spencer watches. Elle’s left the car and is already on her way to the elevator. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I just have a hug real quick?”

“Yeah,” he wraps his arms around her and holds her close. “Are you okay?”

She nods against him, “yeah it’s just good to have at least 8 hugs a day.”

“Hug me whenever you need to,” he whispers against her hair, kissing the side of her head before she pulls back.

“Kisses are helpful too?”

He smiles, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, mumbling against them, “how many?”

She hums, “10?”

He pecks her lips 10 times and counts each one, making her giggle, it takes so much effort to hold her smile back to keep kissing him but she feels much better.

“Thank you,” she beams and she can swear Spencer's eyes sparkle as he smiles back.

She pulls him into another hug, “I hate that we have to go catch a killer right now.”

“Come on then, as soon as we get him we can go on another date somewhere?”

She shakes her head, “after this case I think we should take a nap together… I’m exhausted and I don’t want to let you go.”

Spencer shakes his head in amazement, “you really like me?”

“Yeah, maybe I do,” she teases him. “You should get used to it because it’s only going to get more intense and I will smother you with love.”

He just shrugs, “it’s about time—“

They’re startled with a knock on the window, “we get it you’re in love, can we go now?”

“Sorry!” Y/N calls back with a giggle, pulling him in for one last kiss before getting out. Spencer follows with a deep blush that everyone will see when they get back upstairs, but it looks cute on him.

Luke Alvez has been trying to catch one criminal for the last 2 years. Simon Garrett has been a pain in the ass for the FBI, the CIA and DEA. He first showed up on their radar when his DNA was found on 14 women’s remains, all of who had been missing for at least 5 years.

His DNA was then traced to his son in the foster system, who’s been off the radar for the last 10 years. Everette Garrett.

“Now he’s interesting because I’ve been investigating his sex trafficking ring between Canada and the United States,” Matt adds. “All 14 women his father's DNA was found on were thought to be in his ring, which means when they get too old he hands them to his father to take care of.”

Y/N shakes her head as she listens, “so if you’ve been looking for them for this long what makes you think we can find them in time to save Bahni?”

“We’ve been tracking him for a while, we knew that he had a new girl on his radar and when we heard it was Bahni Desai we knew it was time to get you guys,” Matt explains.

“So far we know that she has to be taken to this warehouse in Alexandria before she goes any further, we’re going to intercept them before they make it to the warehouse and then use their car to gain access to take the whole thing down,” Luke rolls out a map of the facility then.

“We need to have the place surrounded for any runners, SWAT is getting prepped, we’re going tonight at 3 am,” Matt adds. “Morgan, Hotch, Prentiss, Alvez and Myself will be running a team at each of the 5 exits. Once inside, each team's swat unit will deploy gas to carefully knock everyone out, from there we need someone to cuff everyone at least until we know who is a victim and who is working there.”

“We’re taking everyone alive?” Spencer makes sure he hears them right.

“We need to know what the step after this warehouse is if we want to rescue more victims,” Luke’s voice is gentle yet stern as he explains. “I’ve seen this man take too many women from good homes and ruin their lives, I’m not letting him slip out of my fingers.”

“We’ve had this planned for months, we just needed to wait for the next confirmed drop-off.”

“Who’s driving?” Y/N asks, having a feeling it was her and Spencer.

“He’s Reids age,” Hotch announces from the door as he walks in with Cruze, “so we’ll replace Everette with Reid and Bahni with Y/L/N.”

“Rossi and Elle will be there to apprehend Everette, we’re setting up a fake traffic spot to irritate him and inhibit him from running. You two will be in a duplicate car arriving at the warehouse at the arranged time,” Emily confirms. “We just have to prep SWAT and then we can leave.”

“Alright, let’s get ready.”

—

Pretending to be kidnapped in the back of a car driven by her boyfriend was possibly the weirdest way to spend a Tuesday morning. Driving the exact make and model as their unsub, her heartbeat was loud enough to cover the sound of the engine and distract her from the long drive. She was overly anxious, and rightly so, it was her first sting.

And she was doing it all without coffee. Tired but full of adrenaline, she wanted to close her eyes and drift off but she knew she needed to be ready to apprehend the men at the gate with Spencer.

She feels the large bump, indicating they just went over a speed bump and she knows what that means. The car slows and she can hear the muffled talking before swat steps in, soon enough Spencer is cracking the trunk open and reaching in for her.

“Are you okay?” He helps her to her feet and makes sure her bulletproof vest is on right before handing her, her gun and watching her clip it on.

“Yeah, what happened?”

“The guards are down, Swat moved in as soon as we arrived, now we have to stand here and wait for them to clear the building,” Spencer explains as they walk to the front of her car.

She draws her gun and keeps it pointed low, guarded as they watch the front entrance for anyone to escape. “Do you know if Bahni is okay?” She whispers towards him.

He nods, “they radioed in that they got her, she’s being airlifted to the hospital with JJ right now.”

She nods with a deep breath, “okay good.”

“It’s going to be fine, we have enough SWAT here to take the government,” he tries to joke, getting a laugh from one of the officers… very strange to see someone laugh while holding an assault rifle.

One of the swat side steps towards Spencer, “I’m hearing on the line that they’ve cleared every room. They’re cuffing everyone, you’re free to enter.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replies.

The high-pitched screech rubber gripping asphalt in an attempt to stop draws their attention backwards. Elle and Rossi jumping out with their guns drawn, ready to join even though the exciting part is long over.

“No runners?” Elle asks, holstering her weapon. “Aw man, I was excited.”

“Not a one,” Y/N adds, watching the front entrance for the rest of the team to start funnelling out with the unsubs.

Luke exits first with a big smile on his face, Simon Garrett cuffed and barely stumbling out the door in front of him. He finally got him.

“well done,” Elle congratulates him. “Let me help you get him in SWAT van.”

“I think she has a thing for Luke,” Rossi leans into Y/N to gossip. “she wouldn’t stop asking about him on the drive…”

“Ooo,” Y/N teases, getting more and more tired as her adrenaline drops. Her eyes are heavy and Rossi can tell.

“Why don’t I bring you and the good doctor home, I don’t think they need all of us for the wrap-up,” Rossi pats her back. “You’ve had a long night, kid.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, holstering her gun and turning with him towards the SUV. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Well you’ve been on the job for almost 24 hours now, you’ve officially made it through your first overnight sting op,” Rossi congratulates her like he’s her grandpa.

She turns back when she doesn’t hear Spencer following her, “Spence? Are you coming?”

“Um,” he has something to ask as he follows then but he doesn’t say it. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, come sit with me in the back?” She asks, sliding in beside him and resting her head on his shoulder as soon as their seatbelts are on.

“Did you still want to have a nap together?” He whispers, feeling her nod against his shoulder before she pulls back.

“Come here,” she tugs him in against her chest, snuggling in as best as she could in their sitting position. Holding him close and feeling him drift off in her arms. She has no problem following suit.

When she wakes, Rossi is parked outside of her apartment, “here you go, Y/N.”

She hums as she comes to, shaking Spencer awake too, “Spence, come on, let’s get to bed.”

“He’s going with you?”

She nods, “don’t tell Penelope. She’ll have a field day, I just want a nap.”

“You better get more than a nap,” Rossi orders. “You guys need to actually rest before you come back to work on Wednesday.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she teases him. “We will.”

“Bye Dave,” Spencer whispers as he gets out of the car. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Anytime kid,” Rossi waves them off, waiting for them to enter the building before driving away.

“Finally,” she sighs, dragging Spencer down the hall and towards her apartment. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“me too,” he barely says.

He follows her inside like a lost puppy, taking off his vest and shirt, slipping out of his pants until he’s in an undershirt, boxers and his mismatched socks. She’s amazed by how comfortable he is with her, but she has known him for 3 months, it’s enough time to fall in love with someone… right?

She’s loved him since she started working with him. When she realized he valued her opinions, he looked at her as a person and he genuinely loved her company. She felt a real connection with him, not just childish infatuation. He was everything to her.

She slides into bed beside him and snuggles in, wrapping an arm around his middle and resting her head on his chest.

“I guess I really can do everything,” she smirks.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She pokes his chest and giggles away the awkwardness, “the thing I wanted to do most, the thing that I couldn’t do… that was to fall in love with you, but I did it anyway.”

“Well, then I guess I can do everything too.”

She pulls away to look at him, “I love you, Spencer. I don’t know if it’s too soon, but I’ve loved you for a while.”

He pulls her in for a kiss, shocking her as he breathes her in and holds her there. “I love you, more Y/N.”

Permanent tag list

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[rek1s-headband]

hi! figured i’d drop a request for you :))! Maybe some general bf hcs for reki and langa? Just in general how they would be as a boyfriend or how they would act in a relationship?

Hi!! Thank you so much for your request, I’ve been excited to do one of these. I hope you enjoy it!

➯ random boyfriend headcannons

➯ characters: Reki Kyan and Langa Hasegawa x gn reader

➯ warnings: none! Just some fluff for these two boys:)

Reki:

-Literally the most enthusiastic person you’ve ever seen. He’d be happy to just sit in silence with you because come on, it’s YOU. There’s no one he’d rather be wasting the hours away with.

-Your biggest hype man, EVER. You post something on Instagram? Get ready for a flood of comments, all from him. You could put your phone down for two minutes after posting, and you’ll come back to 99+ notifications of just reki commenting along the lines of “woah suddenly I’m on one knee” “DAMNNNN” and many, many more.

-Never leave your phone unattended around him. He won’t snoop, but be prepared to come back to your camera roll flooded with just zoomed in pictures of his face, his mouth, his eye, ANYWHERE. Mf is spamming your whole phone with pictures of him for you to come back to.

-He has to always be touching you in some way. Whether it’s holding your hand, your waist, a casual arm around your shoulder, there has to be something. He’ll put his hand on your ass sometimes while you walk in public.

-Honestly doesn’t even think PDA is anything out of the ordinary. Like, you’re his s/o??? Yes you’re in his lap, yes you’re in the middle of the skatepark, so what? You’re his, and he’s happy he can make everyone aware of that.

-I saw a post on here that said he would peel stickers off fruit and stick them to peoples’ foreheads, and I fully stand by this. However, it doesn’t just stop at fruit stickers. Anything remotely sticky, whether it’s tags from clothes, tape from a food box, even random sequins and bits of glitter he finds around, it’s immediately being stuck to some part of your face.

-Loves casual dates. Stopping by food stalls, browsing in clothes and game stores for a few hours, and skating around with you until it’s time to go home is a dream for him. Be prepared for day-long dates, because he will clear his entire schedule just to spend the day with you.

-His family adores you. His mother is always goading him to bring you over more, complaining that she misses her "honorary son/daughter/child". His sisters love you too. Any time you come over there’s immediately three tiny bodies shooting at you, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you over to wherever they’re playing. Reki tries to drag you away, wanting to have you for himself, but you always try and stay for at least five or ten minutes. Secretly, he loves that you get along so well with his siblings, going soft at the thought of how you would act with children of your own.

-He loves playing video games with you. Sitting in his lap, the two of you could spend hours switching from game to game. One minute you could be burning down a village in Minecraft, the next complaining while Reki whoops your ass in Mario Kart. His mom brings you food for your breaks between games, and she’ll even stay for a few minutes to talk to you while Reki shifts underneath you, glowing red from embarassment.

-If you can’t skate, he would beg to teach you. If you accept, he goes all out. He’ll make you your own customised board just for practicing, making sure it’s absolutely perfert for you to learn on. But if you can skate, get ready for endless races and competitions to see who can nail a new trick the quickest.

-Adores when you come to S to support him. He loves looking into the crowd and seeing you there cheering him on before he goes into a beef. If he wins, he’ll race over to where you are in the crowd, picking you up and spinning you around, kissing you without a care in the world. However, if he loses he’s thankful you’re always there to pick him back up and make him feel better afterwards.

-Loves cleaning you up after a big fall, kissing your bruises and cuts better. He’ll carefully wrap each injury with care, telling you how brave you are, no matter how small the cut. Secretly, he loves when you baby him after he falls himself. Seeing you wipe away the blood from a new cut and place a small plaster on it with such tenderness melts his heart in a way only you could.

-Speaking of plasters, this man has one for every occasion. Princesses, pirates, aliens, cats, dogs, sparkles, stripes, you name it, he’s got it.

-The type to sneak you out at two in the morning to get a slushee with him. Honestly, he’s up so late making boards for people he just has no perception of time.

-Spams your phone with TikToks or other funny things that reminds him of you. It could be a very specific thing, or a flower or cloud. If he thinks of you when he sees it(which is fairly often), it gets sent to you.

-Talks with his hands a lot. He’s a very expressive talker, so when he’s telling you a story it feels like you’re right there in the story with him.

-Please just kiss him. His cheeks, his forehead, his hand, his shoulder, his temples, his lips. Anywhere, he’ll melt under you. Mf is touch starved to the max.

-Always knows how to make you laugh. His laugh is infectious, it could get you out of your darkest moods.

-Sleeps with his head on your chest, and one hand in your shirt little perv.

-His social media is like a SHRINE for you. His highlights, his posts, his stories, EVERYWHERE. He’s just so proud to be able to call you his that he wants the whole world to know.

-Kisses in the rain while you run home, skateboards in your hands after the weather forecast failed you once again. He’s just so happy in the moment that he can’t contain himself, so he’s pulling you into him in the pouring rain, kissing you hard while your hair gets drenched.

-You don’t need to steal his clothes, he will literally give them to you because “you just look so cute wearing them”. Occasionally, he’ll take one of your hoodies, and even if it doesn’t exactly fit him, he’ll still keep it near him while he sleeps so he can keep your scent close to him.

Langa:

-This man is so oblivious to obvious hints, but still manages to pick up on the smallest of details? It’s incredible, honestly. He could describe the exact colour of your eyes with the most insane detail, but he still won’t notice when you try and hint that you like him in the first place!

-You two have a bit more of a low-key relationship, but you’ll make your usual appearance in his Instagram posts, or on his Snapchat story with a casual caption like a simple heart, or “my love<3”

-Not very big on PDA, not because he doesn’t like it, but because he doesn’t think of it. However, when he does feel like he’s being too physically distant, he’ll link pinkies with you as you walk along, or rest his head on your shoulder while you watch a video on your phone.

-His mom adores you, which is why Langa despises bringing you to his house. You always seem to leave with seven of his baby photos from his time snowboarding in Canada, a new recipe from his mother that you complimented, another one of his hoodies, and more miscellaneous stuff that you don’t even know how it ended up in your bag. He has a little shelf in your room specifically for this random stuff, and he always adds to the collection when he comes to your house. He’ll leave a keyring, a small toy, a Polaroid, anything honestly.

-Loves dates that you can experience. The movies, aquariums, museums and the zoo are common dates for the two of you to go on, but other than that, he adores going skateboarding with you. He’s been improving, and he loves when you notice little things he’s been picking up on, whether it be a new trick or simply how he balances himself on the board.

-Adores old Disney movies. Yall will binge a ton of them in one day, having full-blown musicals in Langa’s living room. When any of the romantic songs come on, like “So this is Love” from Cinderella, Langa will stand up and offer his hand to you, as the two of you waltz around his sitting room, humming the tune of the song.

-Study dates are frequent with the two of you. If you happen to stay up late studying and fall asleep on each other, his mother will cover the two of you with a blanket, tidying some of your books and leaving with a smile, happy with the knowledge you were making her son the happiest he’s been in quite a while.

-Slow dancing in the kitchen while you cook is a regular. When a particularly sappy love song comes on while he stirs the pot, he’ll turn around and hold you close to him, twirling you around the kitchen.

-Reki constantly jokes that he is a third wheel, poking fun at the two of you, Cherry and Joe, and Shadow and “his little girlfriend back at the flower shop”. He’ll hang out of Miya, whining about them having to stick together since they’re the only two “lone wolves”. He’ll usually get a well-earned thump into the back of the head from Miya, but it’s still funny to watch the whole thing go down.

-Tends to be shy when giving you clothes, so instead of asking you to wear them he’ll leave them out in places he knows you’ll find them, or he’ll come up behind you and plop it in your lap, murmuring about how cute it would look on you.

-Please do this man’s makeup. He will sit so still for you, waiting patiently while you dab eyeshadow at his eyes, trying not to blink so you don’t mess up his mascara. He’ll sit there mesmerised for a few minutes, taking in how he looks, and simply whisper “you do this every day?”

-Evem though he’s not a very openly affectionate person, he is stuck to your hip behind closed doors. He’ll lie in your lap for hours, staring up at you while you mess with his hair, pulling it into little plaits and pigtails.

-I can’t even describe how the two of you sleep. It’s simply a mass of limbs, and no one knows exactly what belongs to who. Somehow one of yall will end up upside down, and-why is Langa on the floor??

-He could talk about his time in Canada for hours, and you’d just lie on his chest and listen to him. Every once in a while he’ll look down at you to see if you’re still listening, and his heart will melt a little every time he sees you staring back up at him, eyes wide with interest.

-This man NEVER gets jealous. You’d literally have to cling to another man for it to click in his brain that Oh. He doesn’t like that.

-He’s not big on texting, but if you call him he will stay on that call with you for hours, even after the two of you fall asleep.

-Whenever he falls(which is quite often), you’ll always have plasters on hand to help fix him up. He always flushes bright red when you kiss his cuts better, and never knows just what to do with himself afterwards.

-When he skates against tough opponents, you’ll always give him a kiss for good luck. Of course, this doesn’t stop you worrying, but you know Langa wouldn’t go out of his way to get injured. And if he does, well, at least he’ll have you there to kiss his bruises better.

[dystopiandilfs]

Dream's discord podcast. Basically him answering questions for 2.5 hours. This will sort of be in order but I fucked up my notes so it might not be in order completely. (From 13th May 2021)

For reference the photos at the end are: A prototype of fidget spinner merch as loads of people asked, a reference photo of his favourite merch and a photo he sent of his hair to prove he wasn't a brunette.

•He said his teeth are mostly straight but he's thought about getting Invisalign. He's never had braces. He has a tiny gap in the left side of his mouth and his canines are longer and sharper (vampire arc). He's never had teeth surgery so has his wisdom teeth still.

•He thinks pineapple on pizza is good.

•He likes seafood like lobster and crab. He had crab made in an air fryer last night. He like peas. He thinks quesadillas are good and likes most food.

•He hates Coffee and most drinks

•The Dream Shorts team is Ken who is his personal reminder (Ken's main job is to spam him with texts so he doesn't forget things as he's got a habit of reading texts and not replying) and also comes up with a list of sets for Dream shorts. The builder is a friend and munchymc builder "his talent gets wasted on Dream's shorts but we pay him so"

•His editors are currently Dizzy, Firesale and Mjcr. Willz doesn't edit for him anymore

•The mask animation isn't done but Mask should be released May 21st. He wants to release them together as "the whole song is a double meaning and the whole nuance will be lost without the animation" but no matter if the animation is done the song is getting released on the 21st.

•He and Sapnap eat together often.

•He and Sapnap prefer medium rare Steak

•He wants a home gym it's something he's willing to splurge on. They currently have a weight rack but they haven't even set it up.

•"Eat the rich? Shut up shut up" - Dream

•Talked about money basically saying "Most people don't understand how money works I don't have millions in my bank account it's in assets like merch, land and warehousing for that stuff" (He's not in his landlord arc)

•He's been debating Pride Merch because of Rainbow Capitalism. He doesn't want it too be seen as a money maker and if he does most proceeds would go to charity. He's currently super busy merch wise with Sapnap joining and George in the middle of joining. He did say "Only if the LGBTQ+ community in this community wants it" He thinks he's going to at least change the merch website to a pride one. Sapnap wants to make pride merch including a rainbow flame on his.

•He wants to create a charity that's centered around helping LGBTQ+ one day because he thinks that there's a lack of them. He mentioned that creating a charity was expensive and took a lot and was a complicated process including a board of directors but he wants to do it someday.

•He wanted to buy a bunch of houses in Florida which was a service to house mostly LGBTQ+ youth and people stuck in abusive households for free to get them out of bad home environments. But he didn't because he didn't want people thinking he was profiting of of abuse victims and LGBTQ+ community.

•He said he's terrible with time management and replying to people which is why Ken helps him (and also helps George and Sapnap). He mentioned how Sam messaged multiple times and Dream just forgot to answer but felt bad "I feel like people think I hate them..... Cause I'd be mad if people did that to me"

•He tries to reply to a few texts a day (community number). He also can't do birthday messages everyday because you can only reply at certain times so it's not abusing the system so if you get one it's special. He said he does try but it's got a weird time gap.

•Him and the manhunt winner are trying to come up with a good time to film

•He wants to stream this MCC on twitch and says his team is good.

•He talks about why he's not partnered with Twitch. Basically Twitch has a lock rate (in which you make money) and you legally can't stream on YouTube. So legally if Tommy wanted to stream on YouTube he couldn't. Someone then mentioned how Bad is a twitch partner but still streams on YouTube "Bad streams on YouTube but he has for a while and I don't think that he cares" - Dream

•He likes to reply to every donation he gets on stream and feels bad when he doesn't so he'll turn them off when he streams and wants a platform deal where he can be payed to stream (not twitch). If he gets a streaming partnership he will stream a couple of times a week. He looked in to Facebook but they don't have an alias system meaning you can see everyone's actual Facebook account and personal info, he doesn't like seeing real names on Facebook so it would require a lot of altering if he was to stream there so he's thinking it's probably going to be YouTube.

•He was asked about if his demographic was what he expected and he said he went in with no expectations, he didn't even know what stans were, wasn't really on social media so he wasn't aware of the fan culture. "You guys are a handful sometimes but it's worth it"

•He also mentioned how he and the DreamSMP changed the twitch audience demographic. It used to be male dominated in both streamers and audience and now it's almost split which is unheard on.

•He has 5 fidget spinners in his house. Two in his bedroom. Two in his office. One in the living room.

•He likes his Minecraft skin as he thinks the arm is cook and you never see the rest of his skin really. He says it's unique and different and "me". Dream: You can't even tell half the skins apart on MC.

•He's not lost the motivation to stream. Most of the times if he wants to stream he gets George or Sapnap to do it and he just turns up. It's more beneficial to them as they have donos and subs on. (Don't we fucking know it "can you say hi to")

•He has listened to Lovejoy. Says the ep was great and they're very talented and awesome. Doesn't know what his favourite song is but probably would pick One Day because the chorus slaps.

•RIP to acoustic Roadtrip. He said instead of acoustic Roadtrip we get Mask so no losses today for Dream stans.

•"With Roadtrip I went to Parker and I said Hey I have a story I want to tell through music. I have no experience with that can you help me" He said sure. He crafted the music and melodies and how things are formed where it's catchy. I have less comfort singing that. I love the song and it's my song, it's very representative of me and I'm sure I could sing it but it's a song I'd be kinds of scared to sing live, with Mask I basically did everything. I sat there the entire time and maybe an hour out if the 100 I wasn't in the call. Dream came up with the lyrics and main melody for Mask (First one he's ever come up with) "That was just notes in my fucking voice memos"

•The clip we heard of Mask was a prechorus not the actual chorus. He thinks he'd be more comfortable to do a mask acoustic and it's more melodic than Roadtrip. The chorus also has a lot of instruments similar to Roadtrip. Mask starts of slow and guitar with minimal reverb and is more raw.

• He doesn't want music to be his main thing. It's something fun to do and he's passionate about it as it's a way to express emotions. He wants to release mask then go from there. He wants to release at least one more song but has nothing on his mind currently. His two ideas were Roadtrip and Mask.

•He wouldn't quit his job to become a pizza delivery man.

•His favourite features on himself are eyes or freckles and he also confirmed that he does have eyebrows.

•He was told that Parkour warrior would be bought back some time in the near future and he got excited for it. "Even if I don't win, which I will, it'll be fun"

•Went on about his MCC team but I'm not going to put that in as we should be getting them today. He did say he wasn't on Pink but he did sound confused. (For reference he's always in Pink as it's the last team announced and keeps the hype up by announcing the biggest streamer last)

•Said he and his mum had the Mr Beast burger. He recommends because he likes the avacado. He mentioned how Mr Beast uses "Ghost Kitchens" which is basically where he gives restaurants permission to cook his food so it's restaurant quality food.

•His favourite piece of merch is the circle smile. (The pool photo on Instagram). He said the quality was bad (he worked with a different company and didn't have his own company) and it was elasticy feeling and he's planning on re-releasing it again but with good quality.

•He's started to send merch out in custom packaging. So his bags have the smile and will mostly be green. Sapnap's has the flame and is either black or white. He's also trying to make it so every order has the sticker packs for both him and Sapnap.

•He loves the coins as it's cheaper than a hoodie but still celebrates the milestones and will last a long time. He mentioned how the old coins are getting removed off the site and how if you have any of the coins your special because only a few thousand get made. He's kept around 100 of each coin that he wants to give away in person.

•He wanted to have a cool store where you could access computers that give you access to the DreamSMP in spectator mode. But it's too costly and would require too much time and isn't safe fight now. He doesn't think it'd be worth it financially.

•Most of the hoodie are black instead of multiple colours because of limited supply and covid. Getting the colours are harder because if the pandemic which hopefully won't be an issue soon.

•He wants to do a short meetup tour with Sapnap and George with a few locations in the US (and if others nearby want to join like Quackity or Karl they can). He also wants to visit Australia, UK, Canada, Mexico and Philippines and do something like that there but definitely at least visit with George and Sapnap.

•He's never been to the Philippines but his mum has. He wants to set up a place in the Philippines where he can ship merch in bulk and it would help to reduce shipping. However it would probably be big milestone merch.

•He's not got the vaccine yet but will get it when he needs to. He doesn't leave the house so he doesn't see the point.

•He's the ideas man. George's footcam video was Dream's idea. The T-shirt video was Dream's idea. Most if not all of the Dream Team's videos are Dream's ideas.

•Said he's got a similar/the same hair colour as Froy (Dream buddy at this point the only difference between you and Froy is that one of you is dating Richard Madden /lh)

[the-bugs-under-ur-skin]

Yandere Sunny, Kel, Basil HC’s - Omori

[small spoiler alerts for Omori] 

[yandere Sunny x reader]

-Sunny is quiet most of the time, so he’ll probably be watching you more than talking to you

-That doesn’t always mean stalking, however. Even if you’re good friends he’d just stay by your side and have his eyes glued to you the entire time

-Don’t be mistaken though, Sunny definitely still has stalker-ish tendencies 

-He would take pictures of you on his own, but maybe if he needed to he’d steal a pic or two from Basil

-his love for you isn’t exactly a secret. his constant clinginess and red face is evidence of that.

-sometimes he’ll just wait outside his house hoping you walk by and ask him to hang out

-if you do end up hanging out, he’ll make sure you guys spend the whole day together.

-he’ll purposely be stubborn and quiet to draw time with you out sometimes

-since Sunny doesn’t really have anything else going for him he might rely on you a little too much

-he legit can’t lose you, it’s his new biggest fear

-he really wants to invite you over his house for a sleepover because he just wants to wake up from one of those nightmares and know it’s all okay

-unfortunately, Sunny might never find the words to properly invite you over

-very protective of you, 100%

-he’s always ready to slice someone when you need it <3

-like legit, he wouldn’t mind killing someone in front of you

-hopefully you don’t mind it, he never learns his lesson and his anger can’t be controlled when it comes between you and danger

-Sunny is also pretty touch-starved when it comes to you

-he won’t usually initiate most affection however, he’ll give you hugs on special occasions

- more often he’ll just stand very close to you and would even lean against your side when it’s just you and him

-so hopefully you can understand and turn around to give him a hug

-he’d probably start to shake and his entire face will glow red

-like, for real, he’ll be all emotionless and stuff but even the thought of being actually touched can send him into a flustered panic

-if you ever have to go away for a bit on a trip or something he’ll probably be stuck in his own head, only thinking about you

-just talk to him when you can, it’ll help in the long run, i promise

-and when he finally has to move away at first he might cry and have several panic attacks

-he’ll lash out at some people that get to close to him during that time, it’s just too much

-eventually, he might hide out with you, or even try to force you to run away with him

-he doesn’t want to be alone again, please don’t leave him

-he’ll do anything to stay with you, because he loves you

[yandere Kel x reader]

-he’s absolutely love-struck, pining over you at every moment

-he probably tried to model his relationship after Hero and Mari’s

-so when Mari dies, Kel will probably will go from pretty lovesick to full on intense yandere

-you’re pretty much the only thing that floats around in his head all day

-it’s always about what you did that day or what he wants to do with you, where you guys should hang out

-at that point, it annoys him when he starts thinking about something else

-Kel likes to think of you guys as basically married

-he isn’t completely delusional though, he understands what your guys’ relationship is

-his jealousy might spike and his patience for others will thin when you actually start dating though

-he’s never really thought about romantic feelings, so when he does, it makes him nervous that other people have those thoughts about you

-sometimes, if they really push it, he’ll even yell at his friends and family

-it’s not a big deal to him, Kel is just being a good boyfriend and making sure you’re safe

-he’ll still apologize to everyone, it just might take him awhile

-even when he does apologize, he’ll still see himself in the right

-it’s also fun to imagine Kel snapping at Aubrey’s gang if they pick a fight with you

-he love planning your future together, no matter how close or far it is

-he’s always really giddy to spend time with you

-Kel will usually wake up really early just to get ready for you, even if you’re just hanging at his house or something

-he’s mega clingy, he loves hugging you, holding your hand, he’ll even grab onto your arm and walk around like that for the rest of the day

-he’s completely ready to protect you though, trying his best to be as chivalrous as his brother

-it’s super cool if you try to protect him too, he’ll probably fall in love with you all over again

-i could see him as one of those guys that has a shrine dedicated to you

-he misses you a lot whenever you’re not by his side so he just wants a piece of you with him at all times

-but he won’t steal anything from you, it’s all things you’ve made for him or some of your things you’ve generously let him keep

-(also, small headcanon but if you handmake him a gift or write him a letter/poem he’ll melt into a pile of yandere goo)

-another thing he’d probably do is give you some of his personal items because the thought of you missing him as much as he misses you hurts him so much its almost physically painful

-besides, what’s his is also yours! it’s not like he’ll never see it again, he’s at your house all the time

-he can’t help but prefer you’re house! it’s just so... you!

-he’ll get embarrassed about his feelings for you, but no matter how strong they get he’ll never see anything wrong with them

-he just sees his feelings as completely average, even when the people close to him start pointing out his obsessive behavior

-he cares about his friends and family, of course he does!

-but for you, he’d do absolutely anything for you

[yandere Basil x reader]

-while Basil likes plants, he also reminds me of one

-when a plant needs light, it’ll leans towards the sun

-and well, you’re Basil’s sun of course! he can’t help but stick around you, he needs you to live

-unlike the others, you’ll probably be protecting him more

-not that he wants to put you in danger, but he can’t really protect you, let alone himself

-and Basil is not above picking fights if it means you’ll pay attention to him

-he’ll probably start being a little more dramatic with everything too

-he’ll cry so you take care of him and keep him inside

-Basil will then bring up the incident if you ever try to drag him outside

-he gets way more excited then he should when you break down and stay

-since he likes to take pictures, it’s pretty obvious he takes a lot of you

-he probably personalized a photo album personalized to match you

-The album is your favorite color, covered in stickers of your favorite things, and of course it’s filled to the brim with pictures of just you

-he also has plants that remind him of you

-Basil probably talks to the plants like they’re actually you, too

-and if you ever make a flower crown with the same type of flower that reminds him of you, his brain might stop working

-he’s just so glad you like those flowers, so much that you want to wear a flower crown with them

-and then if you wear flower crowns together, he won’t stop blushing until you take it off

-he’s happy to have something matching with you, he finally feels like he’s just a normal guy with a normal crush

-of course, right after he thinks that he takes, like, 20 photos of you for his album

-Basil is probably the most insecure out of the three

-he’s completely terrified from the thought of you suddenly distancing yourself

-it’s a little ironic considering he’d probably avoid all his other friends in favor of your company instead

-and honestly, he’d probably try to distance himself from you too

-but you’re just so special that if you breaking through Basil’s barriers is easier done than said, seriously

-he had a nice safe space starting and now that you’ve come and imposed on that, you’re a permanent part of that

-hell, you might even become the safe space!

-he now relies on every single one of your affections, all of you caring looks and smiles

-just stay by his side forever, let him be your number one priority

-he just can’t let anyone else have you, please just stay inside with him

-besides, it might be for the best

-the world is an absolutely terrifying place

-but Basil isn't scary, Basil is just your best friend!

-and you both can hide from the outside together

-always and forever <3

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Writing advent calendar Day 3

Prompt: Visiting the Santa's village

AKA: The roller kids get banned from a place

Read on ao3 in the link above or read under the cut

It is a known fact that it does not snow in Buenos Aires in december. Not that there is much snow in july either, the snow mostly comes in the south, but in december there is definitely no snow in sight. Actually, it was quite hot on this very day. Summer vacation was upon them and the Roller Gang had planned on visiting the amusement park outside the city to celebrate.

But not this night. This night, they were visiting the Santa's village. 

It didn't look much like it, due to there not being any snow, but they knew that fake snow was going to be provided.

In the meantime, they tried enjoying the things that were there. 

Jim and Yam immediately went over to a photo booth. I was essentially a normal photo booth, but all the pictures had stickers of christmas themed stuff like a santa hat, candy canes, all that classic stuff. The pictures in question were in pretty low quality. But that didn't matter - Jim and Yam wanted to try it out anyway.

As they gathered their photos, they giggled to themselves.

"Hey, what kind of photos are those?" Ramiro asked.

"Why do you ask?" Yam replied, her and Jim hiding them behind their backs.

"I'm just wondering. Hey, why are you hiding them?"

"No reason!" the girls said in unison. Ramiro tried to grab them, but that just made the girls run away with him giving chase.

Further away, Luna and Simón stood in front of an elf train for kids on a trail that went around in a circle.

"Hey Luna," Simón said, "I bet you can't fit in the elf wagon."

"I bet you can't fit!"

"Hah!"

"Guys..." Ámbar said carefully, "Don't..."

She couldn't stop them, as the two had already tried to squeeze themselves inside the too small train wagons.

"Luna," Simón laughed, "Remember... in Mexico..." He had to take pauses as he was laughing too much about whatever he was about to say, "When there was that carnival? With the-"

"Old roller coaster!" both him and Luna cackled. 

"Sorry, what?" Ámbar asked.

The two crazy childhood friends looked up at her as they sat with their legs hanging outside the small train wagons. Then they laughed again.

"Ok," Luna said, trying to calm down, "There was this... old roller coaster with essentially no safety. You just sat there!"

"You just sat there!" Simón cried while grinning.

"Yeah, and so we decided to sit two people in one to make it feel like we were more 'stuck' in the wagon."

"But I was too tall!" 

"Simón was too tall and I was too small to sit alone!"

Both laughed like crazy once again.

"So..." Luna giggled, trying to take some breaths, "We took turns. Sometimes we squeezed in both of us in a wagon and barely could get out afterward cause we were so stuck..." She and Simón laughed again before she continued, "Or we sat in two separate wagons with me holding on for dear life."

"Yeah, she was like 'Help I'm gonna fly off, Simón!'"

Ámbar shook her head as Luna and Simón somehow managed to burst out in even more laughter. This wasn't even funny, but they seemed to think so.

Meanwhile, Ramiro kept chasing Jim and Yam. 

"Show me your photos!" he yelled.

"Never!" the girls yelled back.

Delfi and Jazmin saw the chaos and decided to record it.

"So we're at Santa's village and things are going wild," Jazmin said. 

"Truly," Delfi added. Ramiro started sprinting towards them, trying to get a short cut to catch Jim and Yam, and accidentally bumped into Delfi. This caused her to step back and accidentally fall onto a bag of some sorts. Now everyone stopped their tracks.

"Are you okay?" Jazmin asked, still recording.

"Yeah, I'm... what's this?"

The bag had broken as she fell on it and now she was surrounded by white powder.

"I knew something was off about this place!" Ramiro said, "It's-"

"Snow." Delfi concluded.

"Oh, yeah... snow... that was totally what I was gonna say... ha ha."

"Fake snow," a worker, who had observed them yet for some reason did nothing, said. "We were supposed to have a machine that shot it out like it was snowing. Was planning on saving it for later tonight, when more kids come here..."

"Oh well," Ramiro said, "You know what we can have instead? A snowball fight!"

"What-" Delfi said, before Ramiro took some fake snow and threw it in her face. "Oh, that's it!" She started to throw fake snow back at him and the fake snowball fight was on.

Everyone went up to grab some and then threw it in each others faces.

Luna and Simón threw at anyone in their way. Delfi and Jazmin targeted each other while Ramiro targeted Jim and Yam, who in return targeted him. Ámbar went around with fake snow and instead of throwing it just sprinkled it in people's necks when she passed by, just because she could.

All the fun stopped however, when the worker started to shout stop.

"Stoooooooop! I get paid a minimum wage for this crap, so please behave!"

-

Monica and Miguel were surprised when the teenagers came home.

"You're back early," Monica said, "What happened?"

Luna gave them an amused, but also ashamed smile. 

"So... we got banned from Santa's Village..."

[soundofseventeen]

4PM, Don’t Be Late (Kwon Soonyoung)

lol I think this is funny 💛

Requested by @justanotherkpopfan17​

54 -  “If you don’t hug me right now, I might fall apart.”

63 - “You could have warned me!”

Soonyoung sat you down at the kitchen table, a smile stuck on his face. 

“Why can’t we sit on the couch, again?” You asked, mildly amused by his behavior today. He had been acting so odd all day, more than usual. He was very adamant that you were home today by 4 pm. He even left a sticky note on your fridge this morning saying ‘VERY IMPORTANT MEETING: 4PM’. And texted you throughout the day to remind you that you needed to be home by 4 pm. 

“Because this is a professional meeting, you can’t have those on the couch.” Soonyoung said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the entire world. You shook your head, leaning on the table. 

“And, why are we having a professional meeting? We’re dating, not a company.” You smiled at him, just now noticing the giant white screen in front of your wall and the projector and computer on your table. “Wait, we’re actually having a meeting?” 

“Of course, you don’t think I would do this for no reason, would I?” He grinned, clearing his throat. 

“...About what?” You asked, starting to get slightly concerned. 

“That will be revealed to you once the meeting begins which is in…” He pulled up his sleeve, causing you to now notice he was in business attire. He was serious about this. “...6 minutes.” 

“We seriously have to wait until 4 pm?” 

“Of course, it’s unprofessional to begin before the designated time. Someone could be late then and miss important information.” He then clapped his hands together, smiling at you.

“...But it’s just the two of us? ...Right?” You said, wondering if someone else was supposed to show up. But Soonyoung just nodded his head, leaving you confused but still humored. 

“So, would you like refreshments?” 

“Soon… Our kitchen is right there.” You pointed to the side, eyes going to your kitchen about 8 feet away from you. 

“Then I will be able to get your refreshments in record time, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Okay, what’s going on-” You started, Soonyoung holding up a hand. 

“It’s good, I promise.” He said, walking to your kitchen. “I think.” He winked, you watching as he grabbed a water bottle from your counter, placing it in front of you. 

“Ahem, is everyone present for today’s meeting?” Soonyoung asked, looking around the room. “Good, you are all very punctual. Gold star.” You laughed as he walked over and placed a little gold star sticker in front of you. What was this boy doing?

You watched as he turned on the computer, the loading screen showing up on the white screen. 

“Technology, it’s great when it works.” He looked back at the screen. Both of you sat in silence as it continued to load. After a few minutes he pulled out his phone. 

“Hey… Yeah, it’s not working.” He said, sounding a little anxious now. “I just tried to start it, okay? Wonwoo, time is running, Y/N is here, how do I fix it? It just says loading. Yes I waited for it to load! It hasn’t changed. Yes, I checked that…” His eyes landed next to the computer, your eyes following. You let out a laugh as he plugged in a cord, seeing his face turn red. “Oh look at that it’s working now okay bye Wonwoo talk to you later.” He said, immediately hanging up the phone. 

“Okay, take two.” He grinned, you sighing a bit. You were still nervous, until you saw the first slide of a powerpoint appear on the screen. 

Now, it was your turn to feel your face heat up. 

“Thank you for coming to our meeting today, we have a very important topic to discuss.” He pointed to the screen. “So, let’s get started. Today’s meeting is about why Kwon Soonyoung, aka your amazing boyfriend and the coolest person you will ever meet, would make an even more amazing husband. You have a paper copy in front of you, but please follow along with the presentation, questions must be held until the end.” He said, clicking the next slide as you covered your mouth. 

Your boyfriend was an idiot. 

“Okay, so to begin. First off, we already live together.” He clicked the slideshow, showing a picture of the two of you from the day you moved in together. “Therefore, no surprises there. We already know we can live together functionally and still manage to get along with each other, even after spending almost all of our time together. Example: That one winter there was that blizzard and we couldn’t get out of here? I really thought we would hate each other after that but hey, it worked out.” 

“Next,” He clicked the computer, the screen changing to a picture of you two at one of the practice rooms. “Obviously, at a wedding there is a lot of dancing. As your future husband, you would be guaranteed to have the best dancer in the room as your partner, therefore removing any chance at an awkward first dance, or dances further. Bonus, future weddings you will always have the best dance partner in the room.” You leaned back, mildly humored at his point. 

“But won’t Hao be at the wedding?” 

“Thank you for saying that.” Soonyoung grinned, clicking the computer again. You laughed at a picture of you making a weird face while Soonyoung deadpanned the camera. “My next point, I can handle your sarcasm. Which is another wonderful way that the two of us get along so nicely. Not to mention…” He clicked the computer, showing a picture of Soonyoung in a weird pose while you just sat on the side with your head in your hands. “You put up with my shit. Perfect together.” 

“Another point, I know how to make your favorite foods.” He clicked to the next slide, showing a picture of you on a dinner date holding up a plate of food. “Or at least I know where to find it, so if you have a bad day or just really are craving peach candies, I can find them quickly and make your day better.” You watched as he pulled a bag of peach gummies out of his pocket, again placing them in front of you. 

“Soon…” You looked at him, shaking your head. He just held up a finger, shaking his head. 

“Excuse me, all questions but be held until the end.” 

“But-”

“Until the end.” He pointed at you. You leaned on the table again, letting out a sigh. “Thank you. It’s almost done, I promise.” He smiled, you blinking at him. 

“Moving on, my next point. We manage to take care of each other pretty well.” He moved to the next slide, again making you laugh. It was a picture of you both when you got sick a year ago, Mingyu had come over to take care of you but ended up taking a million blackmail photos. “I mean, sometimes it goes south but hey, we try. That’s what counts.” 

“Lastly.” He clicked to the next slide, showing a picture of you and him laughing while trying to be professional. You again let out a laugh, remembering how pissed Minghao was with you two that day. You kept ruining the pictures. “As your husband, I swear I will work my hardest to make sure that for the rest of your life, that smile and that laugh stay with you.” 

“Now, to conclude our meeting, we will move onto the question portion.” He clicked the slide again, this time the screen just showing a question mark. “But before we move onto your questions, I have one important question that needs to be asked first.” He clapped his hands together, walking around the table to your side. 

“Soon.” You said as he knelt down, pulling the box out of his jacket pocket. 

“So? What do you say?” He asked, looking up at you. “Can I be your husband?” You looked from him to the ring, having to look away. Soonyoung suddenly started to panic when you did that, looking at you concerned when you looked back at him with tears in your eyes. 

“Kwon Soonyoung, if you don’t hug me right now, I might fall apart.” You said, Soonyoung immediately standing up to hug you. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, you shaking your head. 

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong. I just… You could have warned me!” Soonyoung let out a laugh, pulling back enough to wipe your tears. 

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise you goof.” He laughed, you chuckling along with him. “So is that a yes?” 

“Well who could say no after that proposal?” You laughed, gesturing to the table. “Yes, yes and yes.” You said, Soonyoung giving you a quick kiss before taking the ring out of its box and placing it on your finger. He was about to kiss you again but his phone rang, causing him to let out a sigh. 

“Hello?” He said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I asked. You can find out what they said tomorrow, good night.” He said, hanging up the phone. “Dino says hi.” 

“You could have told him!” You laughed, Soonyoung shaking his head. 

“No, not yet. I think I should keep you to myself tonight, don’t you agree?” He grinned, you shaking your head. 

“Fine. They can find out tomorrow.” You said, giving him a quick kiss. “You made a very compelling argument, mister.” 

“I knew it would work. Wonwoo said it was dumb. Who’s the dummy now. Not this guy. This guy has a fiance.” 

“Okay dummy fiance.” You said, pulling him to the kitchen. “Time to make dinner.” Soonyoung immediately followed, giggling as he back hugged you. 

“Yes dear.”

this gif really doesn’t go with this story but its my favorite so