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1-800-kami · 9 months

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R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment.

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface.

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.”

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.”

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them.

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side.

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words.

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow.

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?”

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone.

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think.

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone.

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..”

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family.

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater.

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again.

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?”

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex.

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes.

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind.

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom.

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?”

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.”

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car.

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru.

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-”

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side.

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.”

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look.

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid.

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand.

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.”

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you.

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already.

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.”

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here.

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink.

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you.

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight.

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.”

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.”

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again.

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.”

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 :)

#kami writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru comfort #gojo x reader angst #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x y/n

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slttygeto · 10 months

Text

THINK I FORGOT, HOW TO BE HAPPY.

⤷ what was I made for? | something i’m made for

જ⁀➴ synopsis: after hanging out with Suguru's friends, you head home and can't wait to bury it down like you always do. But when your boyfriend insists on knowing what upset you, the night takes a turn for the worst.

જ⁀➴ word count: 2,8k

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, hurt/no comofrt, angst, fights, suguru is a little mean and says mean shit but reader isn’t any better.

જ⁀➴ note: sorry for the long wait, i'm struggling to work on many things at once. but a huge thank you for showing the first part so much love! it was truly unexpected.

ʚ⁺˖ ⤷ tag list: @error404-tryagain @fiannee @anarosextodo @ayeputita (couldn't tag everyone for some reason, my bad!)

⤷ comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Suguru remembers when he first fell in love with you, how his face felt warm when you wrapped your arms around him and told him to have a safe trip, the little bag of goodies you had prepared for him sitting atop of his suitcase. He remembers pulling you into a deep kiss in the middle of a crowded airport, and he wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, has never been—but something about you caring for him, preparing food for his flight and showing up as he was about to board made his heart leap out of his chest.

Your first I love you to each other was shared when you realized you couldn’t handle being away from each other for longer than a day. You move in together shortly after he returns from his travel.

You don’t remember when you started to feel out of place, but it makes its way up and towards the back of your head like a parasite—your emotions were always too much for anyone to handle. You recently had a breakdown over messing up at work, and you’ve never seen Suguru look more lost than when he tried to comfort you. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern, he looks defeated when you refuse to let him touch or hug you. You were a mess, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

When you do calm down and are finally able to breathe properly, your brain flashes you little moments from your breakdown like a flashback—almost as though to shame and embarrass you for the way you behaved, all while your perfect boyfriend looks defeated at your lack of cooperation. You’re not sure if it is true, you hope that it’s not—but you see Suguru sit at the edge of the bed and bury his face in his hands and he curses under his breath. He looks tired.

It’s because of me.

When Suguru notices that your breakdowns become less frequent, he is convinced that you are slowly working towards getting better, praises and showers you with compliments. This is the Suguru you always want to see, full of life and love and not the one you saw that night.

And so you decide that from now on, Suguru wasn’t made to see you at your lowest.

Dinner ends an hour later and you almost run out of the restaurant and towards the car. Suguru is quick to join you, and from the corner of your eyes, you see Gojo standing near his car and his eyes are staring into your soul. You were grateful that he didn’t tell your boyfriend about the bathroom incident. You confided in the male at such a vulnerable moment and you would’ve been pretty upset if he went against your wishes.

You’re as quiet as ever as Suguru starts the car and drives away. You’re mindful of the way you sit not to face Suguru, and decide on letting him pick the songs to play on the way back. And your boyfriend doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re avoiding him like the plague, after all this wasn’t the first time you were eerily quiet on the way back home. But you were wrong.

Suguru watches you as you walk inside your shared apartment and remove your shoes. You’re not wearing any specific expression indicating that you might be upset. After all, you did have a habit of frowning as a resting face. But it feels different as you quietly greet your cat with a head pat, choosing to head to the kitchen first since you knew Suguru would go to the bathroom for a quick shower.

You were avoiding him.

“Did I do something?” Your boyfriend watches as you halt your movements, the glass of water in your hand long forgotten as you stare at him wide eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Huh?”

“You’re avoiding me, did something happen?” Suguru tries to remember the night you spent outside. He has no clear memory of saying or doing something that you might’ve tipped you over the edge, so what was wrong? You were never this quiet.

“I’m fine, Sugu. You didn’t do anything.” The smile you flash him does anything but reassure him. You ignore the frown that sits on his face and you turn around, your back facing him as you try to busy yourself with something—anything, but facing the man you called your boyfriend.

“Then why are you acting so distant?” So he was able to pick up on it. You hoped that he wouldn’t be able to, maybe breaking up with him would be much easier that way. You are quiet as ever as you turn around and walk toward the fridge.

You were distant because Suguru wasn’t supposed to see you like this, he wasn’t supposed to know how much of an insecure mess you were when he was around, how you were desperately trying to get him to fall out of love. You can barely say I love you to him without feeling guilty about it. Did you truly deserve his love? It felt like he was wasting his time on someone as miserable as you.

“I am not distant, just tired.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, you were tired. You wanted to sleep so badly, wanted to drown the lingering thoughts of never feeling enough as Suguru’s girlfriend, but feeling whole and complete when you are yourself outside of your relationship. This was a you problem, and dragging Suguru down with you felt a little unfair.

“You were crying in the restaurant.” Your heart stills at this. “But you lied and said you were fine.”

“Did Satoru—“

“Satoru doesn’t know you better than I do.” His tone is sharp, and you’re taken aback by the harsh way he chooses to address you. Was this about to escalate into something else? You didn’t want it to, you didn’t have the energy to fight back and tell him to choose his tone carefully. You might’ve been the easy-going, kind girlfriend—but you weren’t going to tolerate disrespect from his part.

“You’re right, he doesn’t.” You sound almost defeated, and you put your glass in the sink before wiping your hands on the towel. Suguru stands near the kitchen island, and watches you with cat-like eyes. You were barely looking his way, the dark circles under your eyes prominent despite your effort at covering them up with make-up. When did Suguru start paying less attention to you? Or did you simply never allow him to see you like this, vulnerable and exhausted. His heart aches in his chest.

“So you won’t tell me?” You’re about to walk away when he decides to speak, and you heave out a long sigh when you realize that the night was taking a turn for the worst.

“Tell you what?” You mumble under your breath, and you refuse to meet Suguru’s cold eyes. You can feel them on your skin, they’re intense and trying to read you like a book. Perhaps if you don’t look his way, his stare would feel less intimidating.

“Would you please just stop?” Suguru rests his elbows on his the surface of the kitchen island, burying his face in his hands. “I’m really trying to figure out what’s wrong, and you’re not helping.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to tell you what’s wrong.” Your response comes out almost immediately, and the frustration you’ve been suppressing all night suddenly resurfaces. Months of trying to play it cool, sweeping your insecurities under the rug and hoping that a kiss from Suguru would fix all of your problems, it was all piling up into this huge bubble. And the more persistent your boyfriend was, the harder it was to stay quiet.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?” Suguru’s voice is a little bit louder, and he’s almost in disbelief at your words. You were dating, you slept on the same bed, ate on the same table and cuddled on the same couch. You weren’t a girl he started dating last month, or a person he was testing out the waters with—you weren’t even a potential lifetime partner, but he was almost certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“Because it’s useless to whine to you about shit you don’t need to know. My problems are mine, you don’t have to fix me.” You feel yourself shake a little the more you speak, your heart is beating fast at the realization that this was a conflict—you were creating a conflict and it felt suffocating.

“Fix you—who said I have to fix you?”

“Right, no one did—Suguru, just drop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But I do.” His tone is sharp, and his hands are curled up in fists. His eyes are staring you down the same way he looks at strangers—threatening, cold and mean. You find yourself tearing up and it makes you feel stupid. You started this, you’re the one who doesn’t feel enough in the relationship—you’re the one being mean, and yet a single look from Suguru has you almost bursting into tears? Pathetic. You felt pathetic and weak, and the longer your boyfriend stared at you, the harder it was to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

“Suguru, I don’t want to talk about it.” You try again, and you hope that your voice doesn’t betray and breaks. Tonight has been exhausting enough, and the thought of having to speak up what has been on your mind for months now makes your chest feel incredibly tight.

“You’re being selfish.”

Selfish? You were being selfish?

You stare at Suguru in disbelief and he immediately realizes how badly he must’ve fucked up because the tears start falling down your cheeks almost instantly. You, who has been pushing her feelings to the side for the sake of his happiness, were selfish? You, who can’t even remember the last time you were truly happy about something, were selfish? This is bullshit.

“I’m selfish?” Your chin quivers pathetically, and Suguru is quick to reach a hand towards you to hold you, but you flinch away from his hold, arms wrapped you to give yourself the comfort Suguru wanted to give you.

“I am selfish, me?!” Your voice is getting louder, but you didn’t care. All the frustration, all the sadness and insecurities were all coming up to the surface because of one single comment.

“Baby, I didn’t—“

“Don’t call me that, don’t you fucking dare touch me!” You move away when he attempts to hold you. “I’m selfish because I don’t wanna tell my perfect boyfriend with his perfect personality about my shitty problems. That’s just fucking great, isn’t it?”

The last time Suguru saw you like this was months ago and he doesn’t even realize it until now. All those times where you would brush off something that would normally set you off, give him a tight lipped smile and tell him not to worry.

“Your problems aren’t shitty, you don’t even want to talk about them!”

“Because every time I tried, it felt like I was robbing you of your fucking happiness, Suguru!” Your voice is loud. “Every time I realized that my mood was ruined, I could only think of how you must be fed up with me.”

“But I’m not? I never even said that I was fed up!” Suguru’s body language completely changes, and suddenly he’s not even trying to comfort you. More so understand where all of this was coming from.

“Your face says it all and fuck--” You groan into your face, your cheeks flushed from frustration.

“Oh so now it’s my face?” You raise your head to stare at him. “One moment you’re saying it’s how I behave, but now it’s all in my face?”

“You’re missing the whole point, Suguru—“

“No, I’m not missing anything! You are the one who created this situation, you’re the one who decided to pull away!” Each word feels like a knife being stabbed into your heart. You stare at the man who usually gives you warm, sweet smiles and all of that is replaced with a cold angry look.

“Suguru—“

“Selfish. Yeah, actually I don’t take it back. You are selfish,”

“Stop.” your lips quivers.

“Because if you actually wanted this to work out, you would tell me what’s wrong instead of finding excuses.”

“You’re being mean, Sugu.”

Your boyfriend groans out of frustration and leans against the kitchen counter. You stand still next to the fridge, tears streaming down your face. You try to stop and wipe them away, but it feels as though you really needed this more than anything.

“I want to take a break.” You say quietly and Suguru’s head snaps up almost immediately.

“What?”

“I want to take a break from this—from you, I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

Instead of giving you a proper reply, Suguru storms out of the kitchen and grabs his jacket and car keys and is out of the house in less than a minute. You are frozen in your spot as you let the words you just uttered out loud sink in, and there’s a sense of guilt. You are pulling away from your relationship, you’re willingly taking a break and not looking back, but does it matter anymore?

This was by far your biggest fight with your boyfriend, and the way he stormed out at the mention of taking a break makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. But not anymore.

You can’t even remember the last time you were happy, and for it to go on for so long was so draining and tiring. You could barely recognize yourself anymore. Your feet take you towards your shared bedroom with Suguru and you start packing some of your stuff. Whether he agrees to the break or not is not important, because you were doing this for yourself. And if Suguru truly cared about you, he would let you do what is best for you.

Suguru didn’t know where he was going, he just wanted to get away from you and as soon as possible. The roads are empty, and he isn’t driving recklessly. In fact, he’s probably driving so slowly that it would look suspicious to anyone on the outside.

He parks the car on the side of the road and rests his forehead on the steering wheel. When did it turn into this? When did he become so absorbed in his personal life that he stopped including you or care for you? Suguru doesn’t want to blame himself, but it’s a little difficult. He thought he was living this picture perfect life with you, under one roof with a single pet and future plans ahead of you. But to fuck up this badly and call you selfish simply because you were struggling on your own was horrible.

And to make things worse, he stormed out of the house and left you there all alone. He groans into his hands.

“Fuck.” He wants to fix this. He doesn’t want a break, he doesn’t think that it’s necessary. But you looked serious about it, maybe he could talk you out of it.

He grabs his phone and dials your number, and when it takes a while for you to pick up he just knows that you must’ve been contemplating whether or not you wanted to take the call. Eventually, you do answer.

“I’m sorry,” the line on your side is quiet, so he continues. “I fucked up, I don’t think I should’ve said what I said and—“

“It’s not your fault.” Your nose is stuffed, but Suguru can tell from the tone of your voice that you were tired. “But I need some space, Suguru.”

Some space… So you were considering the break.

“We can work it out, we don’t have to take a break or anything, we can go on a date tomorrow morning and—“

“I called a cab, I’m going back to my place.” You cut him off, and Suguru hears you lock the door to his apartment. “I’m doing this for myself and for us,” Suguru closes his eyes when he realizes that there was truly no hope in talking you out of it.

“Okay… can I still text you?”

“No,” you reply quietly. “I don’t wanna think about you for a while.” He tries not to feel hurt but it’s difficult.

“I understand.” The line goes quiet for a while, and Suguru hears a few sniffles from your side and sighs.

“We’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You wipe a few tears. “I have to go now.”

“I love you.” Suguru waits for a response, and when you take too long to answer, his chest tightens a little.

“Take care, Sugu.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #geto x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x y/n #geto x you #jjk angst #geto angst

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jaemlonfz · 5 months

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seventeen loves when you...

seventeen (separate) x fem! reader

tw: the lowercase letters are intentional, there's the explanation and then pure filth, fucking in the couch, cheating on games, morning sex, s/o jealous, biting, sex in a restaurant, fingerring, sex in the shower, phone dirty talking, fucking on the kitchen, sex with clothes, reverse cowgirl, sex on the yard, cowgirl, naked photo, stocking, fucking thights, high heels, eating pussy, lmk if i forgot something

wc: 3,2k

synopsis: seventeen loves when you do certain things

author's note: i really hope you like it, i didn't review it, the chan part is so small i'm sorry, reblog and like if you enjoyed reading it

seungcheol loves when you dress all in black

It doesn't matter if you're wearing his black shirt and baggy black sweatpants, or a beautiful long black dress with a slit up your leg, or even a black bra with matching panties. seungcheol claims that you look like a different person when you dress all in black, but he never told you that, he likes the suspense of coming home and randomly seeing you all in black, he likes to feel the butterflies in his stomach when he calls you to a romantic dinner and you're going to meet at the restaurant, he looks at the door anxiously wondering if you're going to arrive in the breathtaking black dress he bought. He likes the suspense of when you're making out, when he's about to rip your shirt and see your breasts tied up in a black bra that he bought with this exact occasion in mind.

seungcheol enjoys the anxious suspense and the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of seeing you in black just for him.

“fuck” seungcheol grunted. you were making out on the couch when he decided to take off your shirt.

it’s not like you knew you were going to have sex with him today, but you decided to wear the beautiful black bra he bought you a few days ago. “what is it cheol?” you asked seeing your boyfriend's ears turn red and his breath getting heavier. “let me spoil you more” he said kissing your neck “you look so beautiful with my gifts”

jeonghan loves when you pull a prank on him

usually you have to be 100% attentive when around jeonghan, because how much this man likes to prank you is really absurd, but as you're still a bit slow it's very likely that you'll fall for 99% of his pranks.

and since jeonghan knows you'r not the type to joke with people the way he does, he forget to be cautious around you and simply doesn't remember to pay attention to the point where he notices some kind of joke coming up. so when you guys are playing one and you subtly put some cards under your leg, jeonghan didn't even imagine it or even thought about it. so when you won the game and bragged to his face and showing your victory in his face, he saw the cards on the floor and was so surprised

"you cheated?" he said indignantly, and when you nodded and let out a giggle jeonghan almost died

“my princess is so beautiful” jeonghan said as he kissed the inside of your thighs with your legs next to your head “I think I’m corrupting your innocence, I never imagined my princess cheating” he smiled at you

“I have to teach you a lesson now”

joshua loves when you wake him up with kisses

kissing is common for a normal couple, and it's common for you and joshua too. feeling your kisses for joshua is like having a dictionary of how you feel, in a week of dating joshua had already started to study your ways of kissing, and now after months he knows how to differentiate precisely what each of your kisses means.

It's as if he made a list with each form of kiss and each meaning, there's the forgiveness kiss, the horny kiss, the goodbye kiss, among other kisses, and he can definitely choose his favorite kiss, the good morning kiss.

joshua states with absolute certainty that your good morning kiss is the best, when you're still sleepy but you know he has to wake up, so you remove the strands of hair from his eyes and his cheek and press kisses on his face until you feel the trembling.

joshua says that this is the best feeling in the world, and that he wouldn't trade it for anything. he hates having to sleep on you for a long time when he needs to, so he does everything he can to avoid it.

joshua likes to feel you on top of him, kissing your face until you see his eyes open, the smile is the first thing he does when he wakes up with you. then he wishes you a good day and kisses your lips like never before. he ridiculously falls even more in love with you every morning he wakes up next to you

“shua” you print his name out of your mouth in your morning panting, joshua asked you to wake him up earlier than usual today, and when you woke him up you discovered why.

“I love your kisses in the morning, I love you even more seeing the sunlight on your body” he said on top of you, it was slow and sly sex in the sunlight, you were so sleepy but it was impossible to sleep with joshua on top of you making your morning better and better

junhui loves when you get jealous of him

it's not that junhui rubs himself with other people to see you jealous, most of the time he doesn't even know that he's making you get jealous until he sees your face.

junhui notice that he likes to see you jealous for three reasons:

first, your expression, you set your jaw almost as if you wanted to break your teeth, your gaze darkens and the tension in the air increases and you become more and more hot. second: it's another way for you to affirm that he's yours, that junhui belongs to you, and seeing him around other people makes you so angry just thinking about the likelihood of junhui no longer being yours. and it makes him so fucking hard third: he comforts you, it may seem strange but junhui loves the conversation after your jealousy, he loves convincing you that he belongs to you and that he would never stop belonging, he likes to tell you that

“oh my love, you look so cute when you’re jealous” you couldn’t tell if you were being devoured more by junhui’s eyes or by his mouth.

junhui was destroying your cunt, a session of kisses, bites and spit, all in your direction, you were so close to cumming but your pride didn't want to give in so easily

“come on baby, don’t hold back, become mine like i am yours”

soonyoung loves when you bite him

when soonyoung saw that he liked being bitten by you, he was embarrassed. it was like he wanted to hide it from you and pretend like he never noticed it, but you noticed it with him.

after that, every time you cuddled or hugged, you bit him lightly. you bit his arm or his shoulders, sometimes you would even bit his ear just to see him sighing heavily with red cheeks.

you bit him when you was going to tell him a secret, making it impossible for you to get away from him without biting a little piece of his ear, or when he tickled you and to make him stop you would bit his arm, but it wasn't your fault that your boyfriend was someone so “biteable”

soonyoung was having the time of his life, he had you fucking in a restaurant bathroom, but it was a shame that you had to keep quiet to never hear your filth, so you bit him to keep quiet.

as soonyoung held your legs in the air like you were an accessorized the wall, you bit his neck to keep you from screaming your dirty thoughts, and that made soonyoung's dick twitch inside you.

you could even feel a weakness in the grip of his hands, he deconstructed himself with your bite and you were never more proud

wonwoo loves when you wear your glasses

glasses bothered you, and it wasn't the model's fault, you've been wearing glasses since you were a child and you've changed frames several times and they all sucked, so you switched to contact lenses when you became a teenager and you never stopped using them. However, there are certain occasions where using a lens can be a lot of work, for example, it's nighttime and you're ready to sleep and you just want to read a message that your boyfriend sent, until you sanitize your hand, put the lens on, then you have to sanitize the lens and store it in the necessary place, this is a waste of time, so in situations like this you use your glasses, and wonwoo just watches.

wonwoo observes how sexy you look in glasses, he observes how the black frames enhance your look and your expressions, he observes all of this in complete silence.

on a specific night, he completely lost his sanity, he was lying on the couch with his head resting on your lap when he decided to show you a video of a kitten that appeared on his Instagram, and you, as a person who doesn't see anything and is super lazy, decided not to go through the lens process and just picked up the glasses that were on the desk next to you. wonwoo saw you fitting the glasses on your face, he saw the glasses sliding down your nose and completely forgot about the video he showed you, which made you smile stupidly. he loved your glasses

“you look so beautiful in them” wonwoo said, fucking your soul on the couch. your knee was on your chest as you hugged them to keep your legs up in the air

“my love looks so beautiful with glasses, like a princess” he said, becoming more and more shameless in his thoughts “I’m only going to fuck you now when you wear glasses”

jihoon loves when you understand him without making any questions

even though jihoon was an independent man, he needed to be careful, and you loved helping him. it's not that you pressured him and were on top of him all the time, but you would always be there when he needed you.

jihoon spent weeks in the studio, and during that week there were a few times he would go out to eat something and there were a few times when he would go a day without eating, and when he realized that the next day would be like that he would call you and you would just go.

you would spent the afternoon with him, reminding him to eat, always placing bowls of soup by his side, helping him with music when necessary, or simply keeping him company, and there was nothing that jihoon liked more than your company

“you are such a good girlfriend coming to keep me company, feeding me, helping me with everything” he said kissing her belly “of course I have to make it up to you”

he praised you and showered you with kisses while also filling your pussy with his fingers.

jihoon worked magic inside you as thanks, and that was better than any gift you could receive

dokyeom loves when you shower with him

bath is something intimate, it's your moment with yourself. so in the first few months of dating, when you shout at seokmin to join you in the shower he definitely lost his mind, and since then that has become his favorite quote

seokmin loves when whenever you're going to an event together, and even though you're going to get late, you ask him to get into the hot water next to you. he loves kissing you while you rub him with the soap, he loves seeing your smile when he rubs your back, he loves singing along with you while you rinse off together

when he's on a tour in Korea, he takes you to the hotel so you can “evaluate” the shower, but that's just an excuse to see you having fun in the shower with him

- “minnie I miss you so much” you said whimpering next to your phone. at that moment your boyfriend was on a tour in another country. it was still afternoon in korea but seokmin was already getting ready for bed

“baby you should see this bathroom, it’s so good” he said and you could hear the rustle of clothes, he must be changing “you would look so hot showering in this bathroom, I would fuck you so good under it, we should come here to this hotel again some day, but I'm going to eat you in the shower.”

“fuck seokmin”

mingyu loves when you cook for him

mingyu is known in his friend group for being the guy who cooks, the only person who stops in the kitchen and they don't have to worry. so after receiving this title mingyu started cooking, volunteering without saying anything, as if he were the his function, so when he comes home and sees you in your apron fussing over some pot on the stove it's like you've lifted a weight off his shoulders, and he loves you so much for it.

and mingyu isn't relieved just by the fact that he doesn't have to cook, he simply loves his food. he loves the love you put on the meals, he loves seeing you humming some music while serving food on plates. that is something that warms his heart. but what about when you make his favorite food? mingyu is trying to not to ask you to marry him right away.

“baby am I going crazy or did you make my favorite meal?”, he said as soon as he entered the apartment, “of course I made your favorite meal, you deserve it” you smiled ass you saw your boyfriend taking off his shoes to enter the home.

“how beautiful can you be making food? did I tell you that you look really hot in that apron?” mingyu spoke as he bent you over the kitchen counter, brushing your entrance

“gyu…” you spoke slyly, your cheeks flushed and your ass red thanks to the slaps you received a few minutes ago

“I didn't know you looked so wonderful while cooking, I think you'll have to do this every day” he said whispering in your ear

minghao loves when you wear miniskirts

it doesn't matter if it's winter or summer, you'll wear miniskirts, and minghao loves it.

minghao loves seeing your legs exposed, whether at home or in public, he doesn't feel jealous or think it's too vulgar for you to leave the house like that, he simply loves it. minghao love when you guys are walking on the sidewalk and there's a strong wind and you have to lower a small amount of fabric that covers your legs. minghao love seeing you dying of embarrassment because you forgot to put a pillow on top of your legs and he could see your wet panties.

minghao loves your miniskirts.

minghao love when you sit on top of him, with your pussy fitted onto his dick, he loves watching you ride him and see your skirt sway

“minghao let me take off my skirt” you complained of fabric that bothered you when you shook on minghao’s dick.

“but you look so beautiful with it, I can see your ass so perfectly with it” he said while kissing your neck. “you should use it more often”

seungkwan loves when you watch the sunrise with him

you always loved waking up early to watch the sun rise, and when your relationship with seungkwan began you started sharing this hobby, you both started waking up together to see the wonderful landscape with eachothers company.

seeing the sun rise was like seeing the day begin, and seeing the sun rise with seungkwan was like knowing that you would have another day by your side, and it was a wonderful feeling.

even when far apart, you like to wake up early and take a photo of the sky to share with each other. it was like it was your morning ritual. seungkwan loved seeing you in the sunlight, he loved seeing the reflection of the sun when he looked intensely into your eyes.

at your house there was a backyard where you would lie on the grass and watch the sky together, but there are days when you don't just lie down.

you were on top of seungkwan warming him with your hottest part, the sun hadn't come up yet and you planned to wait like every morning with your pajama shirt draped over your shoulder he could see your boob, which he was playing with until now, red and swollen, you could see your purple neck with the marks from the day before, you looked so beautiful being all his, and the beauty it only got bigger when the sun came up behind you.

seungkwan couldn't help it and took a photo, you on top of him in the most beautiful pajama set, your chest exposed and your neck red, your pussy warming him early in the morning and the bright sky behind

vernon loves when you wear high socks

you see that your boyfriend likes your legs in an episode of a show where you and your group wear school clothes, the famous uniform with a shirt, blazer, skirt, a high pair of socks and a pair of black flip-flops. you noticed that vernon liked something about your outfit that day, but didn't know what it was, so we wore it on separate days to see what happened.

you had already discarded the shirt and blazer as they are things you wear very often and vernon frankly sometimes doesn't even notice, so you had the skirt and socks left.

the skirt you wore on a date, you were going to an ice cream shop and this was the perfect opportunity for you to test your theory, but when vernon didn't say anything it really took you by surprise after all it was what you suspected most.

but when you finally put on some random shorts with socks that reached halfway up your thighs you saw it. vernon couldn't look at your face without blushing and stuttering constantly, you barely touched him and you could hear your heart beating faster and faster, that's when you saw that your boyfriend loved seeing a stocking that suffocated your thighs

“vernon” you cried out of need, lying on the mattress “please”

“please what, kitten? use your words with me” vernon said sinic smile to you, who was crying beneath him

“fuck my pussy please” your cheek even hotter tha before. vernon was using you now, but not where you wanted him to.

“but your thighs are so beautiful, I have to fuck them” he said rubbing his dick between your legs, it had been at least an hour that vernon had been teasing you and doing nothing but using your thighs.

chan loves when you wear high heels

chan likes absurd high heels. he likes heels that would make him the same height as yours or perhaps smaller.

he doesn't have a specific reason for that, but it's something he loves so much, looking to the side and seeing you without having to lower his head, or maybe even having to look up to appreciate your pretty face.

chan likes to see you above him, it just turns him on, for no particular reason.

chan can feel his body shiver when he looks at your feet and sees them strapped into 10 inches heels.

damn chan loves seeing you tall

he loves seeing your feet 10 inches higher in the air while he eats you like no one else.

chan is starved for you on any occasion, but when you wear heels, he lives to see your legs numb in the air while he gives you the head you deserve.

“put those feet in the air while I fuck the life out of you.”

#seungcheol smut #jeonghan smut #joshua smut #junhui smut #hoshi smut #wonwoo smut #woozi smut #dokyeom smut #mingyu smut #minghao smut #seungkwan smut #vernon smut #lee chan smut #seventeen smut #seventeen

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runnning-outof-time · 2 months

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Hasn’t Burned Down Yet | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @asherlockfandom

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) proves that she's still not one to be messed with when it comes to her business. Tommy's happy he's not the one in the line of fire this time.

Warnings: drinking, mentions of smoking

Word Count: 3475

A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long to share this one with y’all…I’ve been going through it lately hah. I had a bunch of fun writing it though. I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this can be read as a standalone, but to really know the Tommy and (Y/N) in this story, I suggest you check out the first part: The House’ll Burn Down…you can find it HERE.

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"Someone's waiting up front for you, (Y/N)," Anna, one of (Y/N)'s employees, announced as she came into the back of the shop.

"Tell them I'll be out in five," (Y/N) responded, her eyes not leaving the latest sketch she was working on.

"He's not the sort that you keep waiting," Anna stated, her words making (Y/N) look up. The latter expected to see a look of worry on the former's face. Instead a slight smile was present.

"Ok...?" (Y/N) trailed off sounding slightly confused as she stood from her desk and walked to the front of the shop. Her brow stayed furrowed until she made it to the front counter and saw who was waiting for her.

"You forgot about my appointment, didn't you?" the man waiting out front asked, his one eyebrow quirked as a smirk played on his lips.

"Just come back, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) dismissed his teasing question, trying her best to hide her smile as she motioned to him, making Tommy walk around the counter to join her.

"I've got the front," Anna announced, smiling at her boss.

"Thank you, Anna," (Y/N) nodded, sending the younger woman a smile before she began to walk back to the workroom.

"Why do you insist on keeping appointments here?" (Y/N) questioned as she led him to one of the fitting rooms. "This could be done on our own time, you know."

"I thought it was you who insisted on keeping a separation between business and pleasure, hmm?" Tommy commented with a grin, following her into the fitting room before he took hold of her arm and spun her to face him. He pressed his lips to hers and slipped his arms around her waist before she could say a word.

"Separation between business and pleasure, hmm?" she quipped once they'd pulled away, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Was you who wanted it, not me," he reminded her, sending a wink her way. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the gesture, but she couldn't stop her smile from growing. "Wanted to do that from the second I saw you out there," he admitted then.

"Well I'm happy you were able to control yourself, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) commented, patting his chest.

"I try my best, Mrs. Shelby," he responded, making her let out a breath of a laugh before she leaned in and kissed him again. "Your composure's easy to crack," he commented with a grin once they pulled away.

"Let's just get this finished with...before I become upset with you," (Y/N) said with a smile, pushing on his chest to break their embrace so that she could grab the things she needed to begin taking measurements.

Truthfully she knew the measurements of her husband by now, but Tommy still insisted on these fittings. He wanted to make sure that things were perfect. It wasn't that he doubted his wife's work, if anything it was because this gave him another chance to spend some time with her. Time was something that neither had much of due to their busy schedules.

Surely you’ve noticed by now that things have - obviously - changed between (Y/N) and Tommy. It most certainly didn't happen overnight though. After (Y/N) put Tommy in his place, she fully expected him to take his business elsewhere. But he stuck around, and when he realized that she wasn't going to change how she dealt with him, he decided to change his approach. One thing led to another and eventually, as of two months ago, (Y/N) found herself with a new surname. She honestly couldn't think of a time where she's been as happy as she is now.

Along with getting married, (Y/N)'s business has also taken off. She's now one of the most respected tailors in not only Small Heath, but the entirety of Birmingham. She worked hard to gain her reputation, and all of the countless hours that she spent mastering her craft have certainly paid off.

"What will you be wearing to the event?" Tommy decided to make conversation whilst (Y/N) was still taking measurements.

"Since when is that something you care about?" she playfully quipped in response as she moved over to her clipboard and wrote a few notes before returning to him.

"I want to make sure you match me," he gave his reason.

"Oh I'll make sure you do, darling," she smiled at him, her eyes finding his for just a moment before she motioned for him to hold his arms out so that she could take the measurements for his suit's jacket.

She bit on her bottom lip to try and conceal the smile as she brought her tape measure up and held it against the underneath of his arm. She did this to both sides before moving it down to hold it against his torso. She really had to bite on her bottom lip as she slowly moved her hand down along his ribs. Just like she expected him to, Tommy flinched the second her fingers touched the space below his ribs.

"Stop moving," she teasingly chastised him, continuing on with making her measurements.

Tommy just grunted in response, watching her closely as she finished with his left side and moved onto his right. Here she slowed her actions down substantially. He couldn't help but flinch again when her fingers brushed over that same spot.

"I said stop moving, Thomas," she rebuked him again, lifting her gaze up to match his, showing him the smile that was present on her features.

"You know what you're doing," he commented, his eyes narrowing as they stayed locked onto hers.

"I do," she chirped, tilting her chin upwards, "very well."

"Then you should know..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes, "that I know those exact same spots on you," he paused, his eyes dropping to sneak a glance at her frame, "very well," he finished his statement by reaching out and pressing his fingers into the skin of her sides, where she was extremely ticklish.

These actions made (Y/N) shriek and quickly drop her hands so that she could try to get him to stop what he was doing. It wasn't an easy feat. "Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally managing to get ahold of his hands and pull them from her sides after a few moments had passed. "We're supposed to be professional here," she hissed at him then, trying her best to hide the smile that just wouldn't stay away. She stopped trying when she noticed that he was already smiling.

"Fair enough," he nodded, showing that he was conceding to her. "Finish your measurements."

(Y/N) let go of his hands with a huff and bent down to grab the tape measure that had been discarded when this all started. They then sent each other a look: (Y/N) to check if he was really finished with his previous tirade, and Tommy to tell her 'no more funny business'.

The stare down lasted a few moments, but nothing else happened once (Y/N) resumed taking her measurements. The only time the envelope was pushed was when Tommy spun (Y/N) around and managed to sneak a kiss just before she crossed the threshold into the front of the shop.

(Y/N) made sure that Tommy's suit complimented her dress for the gala they were attending that evening. She had picked out a royal blue evening gown, and made sure that Tommy's suit was a charcoal color and had a blue tie to bring it together. She also wanted to include a blue pocketsquare but Tommy fought it, saying that the tie was enough. (Y/N) finally conceded when Frances came and announced that their car had arrived, instead telling Tommy that he'd need to make this up to her in some way.

Now the event was in full swing. (Y/N) stayed by Tommy's side, joining him in the conversations that he was having. She was able to add meaningful viewpoints, and Tommy appreciated that. Her presence was way more than just a prize on his arm.

"Mr. Shelby, I must bring attention to the fine suit you've got on," Elliot Thorsby, a man who was a prominent figure in automobile sales, began as he approached the couple. (Y/N)'s smile grew as she heard what he said. The suit she made had been getting compliments like this one all evening. "Might I ask where you had it made?"

"Me wife’s the one who made it," Tommy was happy to share, nodding his head to the woman standing on his right. "She makes all of my suits."

"Ahh," Elliot responded, looking surprised as he nodded slowly. "Is she open to taking on new clients?" he asked then, still speaking to Tommy.

"Now that's something that I wouldn't know personally," Tommy began, glancing over at his wife before he continued, "why don't you ask her yourself?"

Elliot held Tommy's gaze for a few beats before it seemed like he snapped out of whatever bubble he was in. That was when he finally turned his attention to (Y/N). "Are you taking new clients, Mrs. Shelby?" he asked, his bushy eyebrows raised in wait.

(Y/N) took a moment to respond to the question. She figured that he deserved to wait a few moments longer. After all it was him who decided to ask it indirectly in the first place. And she honestly quite enjoyed watching him squirm in his spot; obviously not used to being on the receiving side of this sort of situation.

"Well I've already got quite the schedule lined up, but for you, Mr. Thorsby, I'd be willing to make an exception," she finally informed him of her decision, a professional smile gracing her features.

"You would?" he sounded elated, almost like a kid on Christmas.

"I would," she affirmed with a nod.

"Wonderful," Elliot grinned. He paused as a man came to his side and whispered something in his ear. "You'll need to excuse me now, a business matter has come up. We'll reconnect at the end of the evening and schedule a time," he told the Shelby couple once the other man had left.

"That sounds fine," (Y/N) nodded at him, then accepting the handshake that Elliot extended to both her and Tommy. He was the first to leave the conversation, leaving the husband and wife to turn to each other.

"Got you another client," Tommy commented on the previous coversation as he fished the tin of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"We'll see how it goes," (Y/N) answered in a nonchalant manner, smiling at her husband as she shrugged her shoulders.

The earliest Elliot Thorsby was able to come to (Y/N)'s shop in Small Heath was two weeks after their initial conversation date.

She greeted him with a smile before telling Anna that she'd be taking this client and that the younger woman should man the desk while she was gone. Once everything was squared away in that regard, (Y/N) waved on Elliot for him to come back with her.

Things went well with the fitting. (Y/N) was able to get a good read on what Elliot wanted and had some great ideas for a design before she was even finished with the measurements. Now she couldn't wait to get some time alone to get started on her beginning sketches. But first she had to see Mr. Thorsby out.

The two returned to the front of the store. (Y/N) told Anna that she was able to return to her previous project, leaving her and Mr. Thorsby alone at the counter. She quickly got to work on calculating the price of the fitting visit and also what the suit would cost. She then shared that final price with him without second thought.

A few moments passed and Elliot still hadn't offered up the money yet. This made (Y/N) glance up from the ledger she was writing down the sale in. "Is there a problem?" she asked with raised brows, immediately noticing the sour look that was present on his face.

"Don't you think the price is a bit...much?" he questioned her.

"No, sir. It's spot on with what I normally charge," there was no hesitation in her answer.

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off, obviously not pleased with the response he was given. "But given my relationship with your husband, and the business we've conducted together…” he paused again, “well don't you think that warrants a lesser price?"

It took everything in (Y/N) to stop the scoff that she wanted to let out in response to his statement. It made her look of confusion quickly turn to one of surprise. "Your relationship and the manner in which you conduct business with my husband does not have any effect on how I run my business, Mr. Thorsby," she began, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, "I take pride in my work and I know how much my suits are worth."

"But for a man with my standing, don't you think that..."

"You'll pay full price for the suit," she cut him off before he could even finish his statement.

Hearing her blatant demand made his jaw go slack. "And if your husband gets knowledge of the manner in which you're treating his associates?" he decided to try another direction.

"My husband pays full price as well," she quickly shut him down for the second time, not in the slightest bit fazed by his threats.

"Your own husband?" there was bewilderment in Mr. Thorsby's voice.

"He knows how much they're worth," (Y/N) doubled down, once again speaking in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I think you're making a rather grand mistake here, Mrs. Shelby," he tried one last time to try and turn the tides in his favor.

(Y/N) didn't waste a moment worrying about his threat. "I think I'll be just fine," she assured him, a tight-lipped smile forming on her face. She hoped that it added salt into the wound she'd inflicted upon his ego.

"You're not afraid of what'll come once word of this gets out?" he still continued trying. It was almost comical now. She sent him a look; a non-verbal way of asking him 'are we finished here?'. But he paid no attention to it, instead trying one last line that he used when he didn't get his way. "Do you not know how much power I hold?"

Ahh, the power card, (Y/N) thought to herself as she continued to try her hardest and hold back her scoff, where have I heard that one before?.

She was way passed finished with him and his droning on at this point. His pestering had brought her to the end of her professional rope. She was trying like hell to keep herself composed and not lose her cool. She wanted to keep taking the high road.

A few moments passed before she took a deep breath and finally responded: "I've dealt with the likes of you before, Mr. Thorsby. I've been given threats harsher in nature than the one you've just told me. My shop hasn't burned down yet. So I'm not worried about what your comments on the prices of my suits will do to my reputation." Her eyes never left his as she spoke, showing him that she meant every single word.

Another pause arose, and (Y/N) wondered if maybe she'd finally gotten through to him. Maybe he'll finally leave.

But, of course, he stayed standing in front of the counter. "Are you sure this is the path you want to take?" he gave one last try, his eyebrows raising as he tried to keep up his imposing figure. It was more then obvious that said figure wasn't working on (Y/N) though.

"Are you going to pay for the suit, Mr. Thorsby?" she asked him, no longer wanting to entertain his theatrics, her eyes still locked onto his. It became even more apparent as each second passed that she wasn't going to change her mind on this.

"You'll regret this, Mrs. Shelby," he finally conceded, but not without throwing one last threat out there.

"As will you, Mr. Thorsby. Have a nice day," she nodded, still unfazed by all of it as her dismissive goodbye made him turn and exit her shop. She stood stoic and watched as the door shut behind him. Only when she was finally alone did she shake her head and let out a huff. "Prick," she muttered to herself before she tore the ledger sheet out of the book and crumbled it up.

"Do you remember Elliot Thorsby?" (Y/N) asked as she moved over to the mantlepiece in Tommy's office later that evening.

"Course I do," Tommy responded without up looking from the paper he was reading, "what about him?"

"He came for his fitting today," she started, grabbing one of the decanters and an empty glass so that she could pour herself a drink.

"And?" he asked for more information, finally looking up at her just as she spun to face him.

(Y/N) didn't answer right away, instead bringing the glass up to her lips and taking a healthy swig from it. She hissed at the burn that accompanied the whiskey as it slid down her throat and tried her best to smile at her husband. Tommy raised his eyebrows at her as he removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose, now waiting intently for her to share something with him.

(Y/N) brought the glass back up to her lips and held it there as she let the silence linger for a little bit longer. She didn't quite know why she was waiting so long...maybe she enjoyed watching him as he tried to hold his intent composure. "I don't think you should work with him anymore," she finally told him.

"Why not?" he immediately asked for more information.

"He felt that he should pay less for his suit because of his connection to you; felt that I should honor your relationship and then threatened me when I wouldn't adhere to his tactics," she happily told him about her interaction with the businessman.

"He threatened you?" Of course this was the part of her statement that Tommy fixated on.

"Well he tried to...the threats didn't really take," she shrugged, finishing the rest of her glass.

"What did he say to you?" he was still hung up on it.

"Tommy it was nothing," she brushed his worry off. His expression didn't change. (Y/N) let out a sigh before she began walking in his direction. "He told me that I'd lose my clients because he has influence," she told him as she stopped in front of where he was sitting. He looked up at her with raised eyebrows as he turned the chair in her direction. She took that as her signal to sit on his lap. He went back to staring straight ahead once she sat. It didn't take long for her to notice that he still wasn't completely convinced. "Tommy..." she trailed off, taking hold of his chin so that he'd be looking at her again, "what're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that maybe I should go have a word with him."

"I told you it's fine. I handled it, and I'm not worried about what he's claiming he'll do," she assured him. A smile creeped onto (Y/N)'s features as she thought of something else to add. "Besides, it's not like he threatened me with arson...like this one client I had.”

Tommy couldn't stop the grin from forming as he immediately realized what she was hinting at. “Who’d threaten something like that, hmm?” he questioned, playing along with her.

“Someone who really wanted to try his luck,” she answered, letting go of his chin so that she could wrap her arms around his neck.

“I’d say the risk paid off,” he wagered, his hold on her tightening slightly so that he could pull her even closer.

“It seems like it did,” she agreed, leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

Their kiss was short, and he was soon parting from her to share the next move that he’d thought up. “Any business with Thorsby will be finished tomorrow.”

“Stop thinking about him and kiss me, Tommy,” she responded, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

He chuckled at her abrupt statement and wasted no time in doing what she asked him to. His lips were back on hers within seconds, and Elliot Thorsby was the furthest thing from each of their minds.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @deadcrowcalling

MASTERLIST

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seuonji · 8 months

Text

彡 my heart is beating for two. — yoon jeonghan

part 1 ๑ part 2 ๑ part 3

notes ๑ daycare worker yn! x secretary jeonghan — you’re a worker at the daycare and of course, your main priority is the safety of the kids. how’d you deal with an unfamiliar face trying to pick up one of the kids one day?

genre ๑ fluff, new interest.

warnings ๑ none

word count ๑ 1k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated<3

it was a hectic but fun shift at your daycare job. the kids love you and you equally got along with them. your coworkers reasoned that it was because of your youthfulness that made working with them a breeze and you couldn’t disagree.

there was just 5 kids left and it was nearing the hour that would mean you’re working overtime but you didn’t mind.

the kids played with the toys around the room but you had just tidied up the place so they made sure to not make too much of a mess.

just as you were about to settle down on the floor, the doorbell rang signalling a parent was there. you instantly got up and chuckled at the way you didn’t even get to touch the floor.

you took a look to the glass entrance door to see who was there and usually you’d be able to recognise the parent/guardian but you have never seen this person ever. you looked over the kids in the room and back to the door. “i’ll be back okay, stay here,” you instructed to the kids who gave a sweet nod.

at the entrance stood a tall, lanky man. you couldn’t tell what his age could be but if you had to guess, he was probably your age or a bit older. he had hair that framed his face well and he was definitely someone that could brag about his looks. his appearance made your heart flutter.

often when you couldn’t recognise someone, you’d fear that this was a complete stranger, could be be those kidnappers but you didn’t get those vibes from him. or was it the pretty privilege?

you pressed the button which unlocked the door and he stepped in, “hi, i’m here for choi yuna,” he kindly spoke and shot a smile that could kill.

despite the looks that could sway you, you were hesitant. yuna was choi seungcheol’s daughter. you knew seungcheol was a busy man. he ran a big company but he never failed to pick up his daughter. plus he dropped her off in the morning and didn’t mention someone else would be picking her up which made this suspicious.

“im sorry, i need to know if you’re allowed to pick her up, how do you know her?”

“sorry! forgot to introduce myself, i’m yoon jeonghan, seungcheol’s secretary, he would've came but his meeting ran long so he sent me to pick yuna up.”

you were still unsure, you weren’t gonna take any chances for a case to happen, “can i make a call to seungcheol first?”

jeonghan let out a husky laugh, “you’re careful huh? what if i just showed you a picture of me and him together?"

“that won’t be enough.”

“alright but if you’re gonna call him, he’s could still be in his meeting i think your call will just be transferred.”

you already had your eyes on your phone but gave him a look as he said that. you still made the call and it instantly connected. “yn? is everything okay?“ the man on the other line opened with concern in his voice.

“hi mr.choi! yea, i just wanted to confirm that you sent someone else to pick up yuna?”

“ah- yes, im so sorry i just got out my meeting if i was the one to come yuna would still be there so i sent jeonghan. don’t worry, he’s a trusted friend! sorry for not letting you know.”

“no worries, just wanted to make sure,” you quietly sighed with relief. you said goodbye and ended the call. you stared at your screen and there was a loud silence for like 2 seconds until you closed your phone and lowered your head to the secretary, “sorry for making a hassle.”

he gave a sympathetic smile and waved his hands, pushing you back up, “no, don’t be! you’re just doing your job, it’s good your keeping these children as safe as you can. i’m glad you’re being this careful, if anything, if you weren’t so cautious i probably would’ve told seungcheol to find a new daycare.”

he was surprisingly nice.

“thanks,” you couldn’t hold back your grin. “um, i’m going to go get yuna.”

he nodded and you walked to the fence which led to the section of the room to the kids were in. jeonghan peered over and his eyebrows instantly rose. he didn’t know there were still children there. he got shocked that the kids weren’t checking if their parents were there. they were just sitting in a circle, playing and sharing the toys. usually they would be hoping the parents are here right? why weren’t they checking?

but jeonghan saw the way their face lit as you walked towards them. perhaps the environment was that good he thought to himself.

you held yuna’s hand and walked to the exit.

“i don’t want to go yet yn!” yuna clamoured. you softly laughed, “you’ll come back tomorrow.”

jeonghan silently watched you in confusion. were you an angel or something? kids love it when their parents are here, if anything, they cry at the absence of their parents right? yet someone like yuna who’s close their parents is clinging onto you.

“yuna!” jeonghan called out.

“uncle?” yuna beamed and ran to the older man, her height allowing her to only hug his legs.

jeonghan bent down and patted her head, “dad can’t make it so i’m here but we’ll see him in a bit okay?”

yuna nodded signing she understood. “did you bring your bicycle?” she asked with wonder in her eyes.

“bicycle?” jeonghan furrowed his eyebrows.

“the one you always come to my house with!” yuna hinted.

the man was left puzzled but also mildly embarrassed at the possibility that you’s think he uses a bicycle to get to places, “yuna, what bicycle?”

“the loud bicycle!”

“a motorcycle?” you chipped in.

“ahh—,” he did have a motorcycle. he was stunned and wondered what you thought of him— but actually, why does he care what you think.

jeonghan recollected himself, “your dad wouldn’t let me but hey, the car waiting for us outside has a tv!”

yuna was notably convinced the car was better especially with the way she hopped and cheered. you giggled at the way he changed her opinion so easily.

jeonghan stood up and held yuna’s belongings, “guess we’re good to go, say thank you to yn yuna.”yuna jumped to give you a hug and jeonghan waved a goodbye. soon, the two walked out.

you closed the door and deeply exhaled. you placed your hand over your chest yet your heartbeat couldn’t slow down. there was something about that man.

jeonghan looked back at the daycare’s door. he thought of the way his heart beated twice more than usual since he walked through that door.

was it you or the 5 sugars he put in his coffee that afternoon?

he shook his head and laughed after recalling the measures you went through to make sure he wasn’t a kidnapper or something.

“do you like yn yuna?” jeonghan turned to her. “why?” yuna dragged her words at the end. jeonghan inhaled stiffly forgetting about how yuna was in her ‘why’ phase. “just asking, so do you enjoy yn’s company?”

“of course! they're really nice! they always play with me and one time they bought me stickers!" jeoghan knew which stickers yuna was talking about. it was pasted somewhere in seungcheol's office and jeonghan made fun of him for it. his heart warmed at the way you seemed to be a genuinely good person. he’s known you for a few seconds but though your actions first impression, he could tell you were someone worth meeting and he liked people like that.

he really couldn't tell why but for some reason, he wanted to be the one to pick up yuna tomorrow.

luckily for him, he’s the secretary and he can manipulate his boss’s’ schedule however he’d like to.

1K notes · View notes

fyorina · 2 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 ALL THINGS END

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: all of dazai's carefully calculated plans come to an abrupt halt when you run into him at a club. he thinks fate is a funny thing, that despite all of his desperate attempts to stay away from you, it still leads you right to him. one night, he decides, is all he'll allow. one night of indulgence, and then things will go back to how they were. that's how it has to be to keep you safe. {wordcount: 11.8k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: wow we're starting side b—side b can be read separately from side a but you’ll get some neat references if you read both (｡♡ ‿ ♡｡). i'm so nervous actually HAHAH i put my heart and soul into side b and trying to characterize beast!dazai properly. it was really hard because the majority of the fic is from his pov and getting into his mind is a lotttt harder than canonzai imo. anyway, reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing it

GENERAL WARNINGS: dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book, it's going to be a common theme throughout the series so i'll leave the heads up now. + as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai Osamu thinks that his touch might be noxious, indiscriminately rotting all he comes in contact with until only putrid remains are left of what had once been lively souls. His gaze drags across his fingers from where they’re splayed on top of the table, absently tapping out a familiar name over and over again, the only thing grounding him to the meeting taking place around him in one of the second-floor VIP rooms of the Port Mafia’s most elite nightclub. If he looks hard enough, he swears he can see that the tips of his fingers are blackened, ready to lay the curse of decay upon the next person he brushes them against.

He can feel eyes on him—the impatient glares from the foreign emissaries and the tense stares of his executives, as they wait for him to respond to the offer, laid out to him by the top brass of the Russian kingpin called Nabokov, an old ally of the Port Mafia courtesy of the previous boss. Dazai was already annoyed coming into this meeting, thinking that the Russians were presumptuous for assuming that the Port Mafia should come to their defense in the three-way territorial war going on in their motherland, but the fact that Nabokov couldn’t even bother to come speak to him himself after Dazai’s executives insisted that he be the one to personally handle this only made him even more bitter and irate. He hates having to leave the headquarters.

He takes a long drag from the cigarette hanging between his lips, lifting his free hand to pull the end from his mouth before putting it out on the table in front of him. The buzz of the nicotine isn’t enough to keep him present anymore. He keeps tapping, steady and controlled, the same bunch of letters again and again—everything around himself feels hazy and blurry. The only thing clear that he can focus on is the uniform drumming of his fingers, his voice doesn’t even sound like his own as he speaks:

“Why should I even entertain your offer when Nabokov couldn’t bring it to me himself?”

The first words that he speaks during the entire meeting are cold and harsh, as they should be in response to the disrespect shown by the Pale Flame, but Dazai just wants to be done with this and return to the base before anything can go wrong. His executives are vaguely pleased by his words, evidently taking more offense to Nabokov’s failure to show than Dazai himself does, and the three emissaries of the Pale Flame bristle, sharing looks as they try to figure out what to say in response to Dazai’s remark. Dazai doesn’t even care to hear what they have to say, lost in his thoughts as he glances up at the ceiling.

He thinks that if his touch isn’t entirely noxious, as there have been a few people who haven’t faced ruin after being exposed to it, then his presence makes up for it in its draining effect. The black hole in his chest is just as indiscriminate as the corroding touch of his fingers, emptying people of hope and exhausting them of energy. A part of Dazai mourns over the fact that those who can survive his touch are drained by the void—(chuuya. atsushi. their names weigh heavy on him, knowing that he’s dragged them so far down with him in this life)—while those who can withstand the void are inevitably killed because of their proximity to him—(you, odasaku, your names ring through his head, cruel and taunting. he pushes away the longing that rips at his chest, as he always does.)

His fate is to be alone, a cruel design drawn out by whatever sadistic gods reign above.

In every universe, it’s proven to be true. Even in this one, he can’t spare people from the effects of his existence. Atsushi, Kyouka, Chuuya—as years have passed their eyes have become dull and their souls have become as black as the blood that he forcibly injected into their veins. He considers whether or not he might just be better off dead, that way he can give those who have been the most affected by him, in this life and all of the others, a much-needed reprieve from him. But he can’t, not when he’s unsure over whether or not those who’ve been condemned by his touch will actually survive if it means he’s gone.

“... okov sends all of his reg…”

The tapping becomes a bit harsher, faster. If he was writing out the name rather than tapping it, the script would be jagged and unclear. His surroundings start to fade out again, Nabokov’s executives are speaking but the words are going in one ear, out the other. His head feels fuzzy and his free hand is starting to go numb.

Odasaku. You. He’s sure that there are plenty of others, but you two are the only ones that matter to him. He doesn’t know if killing himself would mean that the two of you could live out your lives to the fullest. You could both die anyway, for all he knows, and then he would’ve died for nothing and he can’t risk that, not when this is the only universe where he’s aware of the fate that you and Odasaku face in every other world.

He can work to protect the two of you in this world; he’ll do what must be done from the shadows to ensure that you and Odasaku can finally fulfill your dreams. A life without you, and a life without Odasaku, is a small price to pay if it means that you two can actually live out your lives. You’ve granted him enough good memories from every single other universe that the least you guys deserve is one without his presence bringing you ruin.

“... the previous b…”

Sometimes, he longs so badly for a life with the two of you that it makes him sick. A world in which Odasaku lives and Dazai can be with you, a world where he’s untouched by the shadows and the tarry substance corrupting his blood. He thinks that Odasaku would adore you if he’d ever been given the chance to meet you—you both have a similar dry humor and an intrinsic desire to help people, even those who decidedly don’t deserve it. On nights that are a bit too dark and a bit too heavy, Dazai imagines dragging you to Odasaku’s place so he can introduce you to him and he imagines how his face would flame up in embarrassment when Odasaku tells you all of the humiliating stories of Dazai’s youth that he knows the man has stocked up.

Moments like this, when everything feels a bit too far away and his mind can’t connect to the present, lost in the pages of all of the other worlds he’d seen, he swears that he can feel the ghost of your touch running across his skin as you trace patterns along his arms and brush kisses against his jaw. He thinks it’s cruel that his mind tortures him with the unattainable; taunts him with the knowledge that the only person he’s ever entirely given himself to, and was accepted by, is out there waiting for him, but the moment Dazai gives in to the aching in his chest, it’ll be ripped away from him again.

“… disorder in the motherl…”

He can’t feel his left arm, and that awful numbness is starting to spread across his chest to his right arm; with nothing left to consume, the black hole in his chest is devouring him again. Now is not the time, not when his executives are around, and especially not when outsiders are around. He taps more intensely—your name, over and over and over again, the only thing that can ever pull him out of these states. It’s the reminder that you’re out there, alive, and that even if it’s not in this world, you love him in every single other one, no matter how absurd the idea is.

“... will not be contained to…”

He needs to focus. He knows what the Pale Flame emissaries are saying even if Dazai can’t actually hear and process the full conversation—whatever is happening in Russia will spread, and it will spread to Japan, certainly, if Dostoevsky comes out on top. This conflict never occurred in the other universes and Dazai doesn’t know what exactly he did in this one that caused this change. Figuring it out and adapting needs to be his first priority because Dostoevsky’s arrival in Yokohama will put everything he’s built at risk.

It will put you at risk.

How many times have you died at his hand? Too many. Too many for him to risk this.

He was able to handle Odasaku’s fate years ago when he got ahold of that painting and convinced him to join the Armed Detective Agency. Odasaku’s fate was easy in comparison to yours, that painting and the Port Mafia have been the cause of his death, removing them from the equation will be enough to keep him safe until Dazai follows through with the final phase of his plan.

Your fate is always more arbitrary—Fyodor Dostoevsky will be the first trial he has to overcome to ensure your survival and then depending on how things play out after that, Agatha Christie will be the second trial. They’re the two leading causes of your death besides Dazai himself. Once the two of them have been taken care of, Dazai can move on to Phase Three, the beginning of the end.

The darker part of him, the one that has festered and corrupted and spread to every inch of his soul without the light you and Odasaku had brought to him in all of his other lives, wonders if he should have you kidnapped and tucked away until he can make sure that Dostoevsky is six-feet-under and unable to disrupt the world he’s built for you and Odasaku. Unlike Osasaku, you have no ability to protect yourself with if everything starts falling apart. You’ll be the most vulnerable, the most at risk.

But he knows he can’t for the same reason that he knows he’ll never be able to approach you in the same way he did Odasaku so many years before: Dazai has never had any sort of self-control when it comes to you and he doubts it’ll be any different in this universe. Even when he knows you’re better off, even when he knows that each second he spends in your life is slowly destroying you, he can never bring himself to part from you. He fears that even the slightest look of you will condemn him and all of the work he’s done, that even just the knowledge of where you are will tempt him into wandering the area in hopes of running into you.

He’s done everything he can to ensure that he never has any contact with you or any information about your life. He assigned Kouyou to look over you, being the best suited for such types of missions. She’s spent years making sure that you’re safe and nothing from the underground disturbs your studies or everyday life. The woman was naturally curious about the request, even more so when Dazai instructed her to never give him any updates on you unless it was a life-or-death situation, but she knew better than to question him.

At this point, only the hand of god and sheer chance could lead him to you, which is why he’s particularly against meetings like these where he’s forced to leave the shadows of his towers and dally into the public. Dazai doesn’t beg, and he certainly doesn’t pray, but whenever he has to leave the Port Mafia base for extended periods, he gets damn close to it because each moment in the light risks everything.

“... oevsky and Tolstoy…”

The ice spreads to the wrist of his right arm and just as Dazai thinks he’s about to be fully swallowed by the void, his gaze drifts to the window looking down on the main floor of the club and he catches sight of a figure leaning on the bar, and it’s ludicrous, really, because how does his gaze tunnel on one person in the sea of hundreds before him. But his mouth goes dry and his body stills as recognition floods through him, replacing the numbness so quickly that his body is almost palpitating in the sudden shock of it. Flames burn through his veins and the fingers that had been steadily tapping out your name jerk so abruptly that Chuuya, Kouyou, and Gin are all casting him hesitant looks.

He rises to his feet suddenly, ignoring the fact that all eyes are on him and that he’s completely disregarded whatever the Pale Flame emissaries had been explaining. He waves Gin off as the girl instinctively moves to follow him, the room is spinning and closing in on him so swiftly that he doesn’t even think he’ll be able to make it out of the room before his mind and body collapse in on themselves.

If there is a god, Dazai realizes, then he’s abandoned Dazai since the moment he was born, because standing there with glittering eyes and a smile so painstakingly familiar and foreign at the same time is you.

There’s a hazy smile on your face as you stumble out of the main room of the club, and down a side hall toward where you’re pretty sure the restrooms should be. You lean against the wall as you try to regain your bearings, inhaling the air greedily—you hadn’t realized how deprived of it you’d been in the stuffy club, where there were more bodies than pockets of air, and even those were smogged with thick, floral perfume and sweat.

You think you’re having a good night—for the most part, at least. You and your coworkers have been at the club for an hour already celebrating your acceptance into Waseda’s prestigious graduate program. You’d been pressured into inviting one of your more unsavory coworkers, having been told you would seem rude and ill-mannered if you invited everyone else except him. You think now that it really shouldn’t have mattered to you, you’re leaving the office soon to prepare for school anyway, but you suppose you’re easily peer pressured. Sometimes.

But you’re free now, momentarily, at least. One of your friends had distracted Takeda so could sneak off to the restroom to freshen up. God knows he probably would’ve tried to follow you there if he didn’t.

You push yourself off the wall with a sigh, wishing that you’d tied your hair back before coming to the club because you can feel it sticking to the back of your neck. Maybe you’ll run into a girl in the bathroom who has a spare tie for you, but you frown as you look around, noticing that the hallway is a bit too empty for it to lead to one of the club’s restrooms.

You pout when you realize that you must’ve gone down one of the halls leading to the VIP suites on the second level, but as you turn to make your way back into the main area of the club, your eyes catch a figure leaning against the wall dressed in a long black coat and sleek dark suit that probably costs more than your life savings.

He’s tall, you note absently, drawn to the man a bit more than you probably should be for no good reason, handsome, too. He hasn’t noticed you standing there, so you just observe for a moment—he has dark hair and smooth, pale skin, partially covered beneath bandages. He’s struggling to light a cigarette, frustration twisting his face; his lighter won’t light no matter how many times he tries, and you think it’s a bit funny that for all of the expensive clothes he wears, his lighter won’t work.

Finally, you take a few steps forward, moving closer to him and fishing into your purse for your own lighter before you hold it up and ask, “Need a light?”

The man freezes, gaze cutting toward you—his eye is so dark and so empty that it almost chills you, an endless abyss that threatens to consume you. You swear the black is so intense that it seems to be swallowing the dim lighting of the hallway, and you watch as something akin to recognition flashes deep within it. He hardly reacts to your presence otherwise, only his gaze shifts as it roves over you, vaguely reminiscent of a parched man in the desert setting eyes on a distant oasis, unsure if it’s just a figment of his imagination. You raise your eyebrows, feeling a bit exposed underneath his stare, and wave your lighter pointedly.

He doesn’t make a move to reach for your lighter as you hold it out to him. You can’t tell what the expression on his face is as he watches you, it’s entirely indecipherable, his lips are pulled flat but his eye is swimming with emotions that you just can’t quite place. Just as you’re about to take it as rejection and put your lighter back in your purse, he suddenly closes the distance between the two of you, leaning his head down, cigarette dangling between his lips and gaze trained on you, expectant.

Oh, you think to yourself a bit breathlessly, throat spasming as you falter under his gaze. He looks amused, watching you carefully, and you can’t help but notice that the dark pit of his eye starts to lighten as he watches you get flustered. When you struggle to light it the first time, you want to blame it on the martinis you’ve been drinking with your friends, but you know from the way your cheeks feel extra hot and your fingers shake that it’s definitely because of the man standing in front of you.

The scent of his cologne floods your senses, you can almost taste the old whiskey on his warm breath, which you can feel fanning lightly across your fingers, making goosebumps rise to your arms—you pray he doesn’t notice, but from the way his eye flickers up a bit to your arm and the corner of his lip quirks up, you think he probably does.

You thank every god that might be listening when your lighter finally lights, catching the end of his cigarette. Your breath catches as he makes eye contact with you and you think you might be able to get lost in his gaze if you’re not careful; your lips part a bit as if to say something to occupy the silence but no words leave them.

After what feels like eternity, he finally stands straight and you can breathe again, watching as he leans back against the wall next to you, head falling to the side a bit as he takes a long drag of his cigarette.

His gaze doesn’t leave you once.

“You smoke?” He finally speaks, and his voice is low, raspy, and hoarse as if he doesn’t use it much. There’s a lilt to his tone, something caught between subtle criticism and surprise, reminiscent of a disapproving old friend who’s taken aback that you’ve picked up such a bad habit.

“Sometimes, why?” you answer, a bit defensively when you catch the edge to his tone.

You don’t smoke—you carry around your brother’s old lighter as a memento, safekeeping for if he ever decides to come back to you, you’re honestly surprised the thing still works as well as it does—but you feel like you have to prove a point now because he sounds a bit judgmental about it.

He only shrugs lazily. “Don’t look like the type.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is there ‘a type?’” you ask sarcastically.

He pointedly looks over you, gaze raking up and down your body once in a slow, borderline sensual way. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, you curse your body violently for betraying you.

“Yeah,” he drawls after a few moments. “Not you.”

You scoff loudly, looking away, and you blame the alcohol when you find yourself admitting, “… I don’t smoke.”

The man smiles thinly at the three words, a triumphant spark shooting through the brown of his eye and an expression on his face that tells you he somehow knew it without you having to say it out loud but appreciated the confirmation.

“Told you,” he says. “Don’t look the type.”

“Hmph,” is all you respond with, flipping your lighter shut and slipping it back into your purse.

You don’t leave right away; you don’t think you could even if you wanted to, you feel like a deer caught in headlights beneath his gaze, feet glued to the ground. But the problem lies in the fact that you don’t want to leave, there’s something about him that has you drawn in like a moth to flame and you don’t even know why because you don’t even know his name yet. And you probably shouldn’t be, you’ve always had a keen sense of self-preservation and there’s a dangerous edge to this man that should concern you—you can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he dresses, and the way he holds himself.

Dangerous, you think to yourself, but you’re charmed by it—you know you should probably get back to the bar where your friends are, but your feet don’t budge. He’s watching you curiously, not making any move to say anything, just observing you and you feel like you might crumble beneath his gaze. You can’t tell if he’s searching for something or if he’s just looking at you to look at you; the air between the two of you is tense but not in an awkward way. But you decide to break the silence with: “What’s your name?”

He hesitates, gaze narrowing just a bit as if he’s considering whether or not he should tell you, and you feel a bit embarrassed, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you anxiously wait for his response.

“Dazai,” he finally says, and you can’t help but notice he sounds a bit breathless. “Dazai Osamu.”

The name feels so achingly familiar that it almost makes you question whether or not you’ve ever met this man before even though you’re sure that you would remember if you did. You give him your name in return and watch as his lips curve upward slightly as he repeats it out loud, making your chest feel warm and your mind a bit foggy. He says your name as if he’s spoken it dozens of times before, the intimacy of it nearly has you reeling.

It has you reeling so badly that you speak without thinking, longing to drag the conversation out.

“Would you… maybe want to have a drink with me?” The words spill from your lips before you can stop them and instantly, you want to swallow your own tongue, shifting a bit nervously on your feet. Usually, when you drink you’re more outgoing, but with this man, you feel like a teen girl fumbling over words with her school crush.

His lips part to respond but no words leave them, conflict swims in his gaze so flagrantly that it makes you a bit embarrassed, realizing he’s probably trying to figure out the best way to reject you. You notice, distantly, that some other foreign emotion flashes on his face and it’s so brief that you almost miss it, but you swear that it’s something akin to a reality slap from the way his eye widens and lips part a bit.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you wait for the inevitable rejection, he casts a look backward, in the direction of the steps that lead to the second floor’s high-end VIP rooms that only the most elite of Yokohama can afford and you realize that this man is probably a bit more important than you thought if that’s where he came from, throat a bit dry.

You start to try to make up some excuse and rush back to your coworkers with your tail between your legs but then he finally says:

“We can get a drink.”

Your eyes widen a bit, a smile splits across your face. You catch a sour look crossing his face as soon as the words escape him as if he regrets them right as they’re spoken. For a second, it’s almost as if he’s fighting an internal battle, and you wonder if he’s trying to figure out if he should take back his words. You hardly think anything of it in your tipsy state, too excited to even fully register it all.

“Yeah?” you ask so eagerly that you want to rip your own tongue out because the last thing you want is to seem desperate.

But clearly, he loses the battle, because his dark eye only softens a bit at your enthusiasm. The corner of his lip curls upward and you swear you see something else in his expression—something caught between grief and longing that makes your throat swell even with the alcohol clouding your mind.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You hold your hand out to him; you’re not really sure why and you think you might’ve just embarrassed yourself again when his gaze cuts down to it intensely. You withdraw your hand with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. “Got ahead of myself, I guess.”

Dazai doesn’t respond for an agonizing amount of time and when you’re about to head back to the main part of the club and hope he follows you, he decides to hold his hand out to you.

“No need to apologize,” he tells you, voice a bit more hoarse now.

You reach out to take his hand, fingers brushing his bandaged wrist, where his suit jacket is riding up his arm just a bit. His pulse is erratic and rapid beneath your touch, a complete 180 from the calm, aloof expression on his face. His fingers intertwine with yours as you lead him back into the club—his grip is a bit too tight, but you don’t mind. For some reason, it feels a bit comforting.

You and Dazai make your way back down the hall in the direction of the main room of the club. As soon as he pushes open the door, he pulls his hand from yours but before you can even process the action enough to pout at the loss of contact, he’s slipping his arm around your waist to tuck you into his side to not lose you in the crowds of drunken clubgoers and you think you might feel a bit faint at the way his fingers press into your lower hip through the thin cloth of your dress.

You can’t help but notice the way people seem to part for the two of you, even with the majority of them drunk out of their minds, it’s like they catch one glance of Dazai and move out of his way. It seems instinctual, almost, as if he’s exuding an aura that no one can bring themselves to come near.

You peer up at him curiously, watching his eyelashes flutter as he looks down at you as if he can feel you looking at him. Your face is hot when he catches you looking at him so you immediately avert your gaze; you can feel him let out a puff of amusement, but he doesn’t say anything as the two of you finally reach the bar.

“A gentleman,” you tease when he pulls out the stool for you to sit. He waves the bartender down and you watch, a bit surprised, when the man instantly makes his way over to you, gaze flickering to Dazai.

It had taken you twenty minutes to wave the man down earlier to get your drink.

You also can’t help but notice that he doesn’t even ask Dazai what drink he wants, pouring him whiskey on the rocks, a luxury brand that probably costs more than your monthly rent.

You feel a bit embarrassed ordering your cheap martini after, distracting him with idle conversation.

“Do you come here a lot or something?” you ask him curiously, lifting your drink to your lips to take a sip of your drink once the bartender passes it over—it tastes better than it did before. Smoother.

“Or something,” Dazai agrees cryptically, the corners of his lips tilting upward as he looks over you. “Why?”

“So mysterious,” you say playfully, before shrugging. “I’m just curious, he seemed to know you… maybe I’m also trying to figure out if I’d be able to run into you again here.”

You watch him hesitantly, wondering if it was a bit weird to add that, cursing your lips once again for moving before your brain can process. But Dazai doesn’t look weirded out by your comment—he looks a bit surprised, yes, but in a pleased way rather than a disturbed way.

“Already trying to plot out meeting me again?” he drawls, watching you from the corner of his eye with an indecipherable look that doesn’t match the curl of his lips. “What if you decide you don’t like me? If I end up being dangerous?”

“Oh, you’re definitely dangerous, Dazai Osamu,” you say firmly with a laugh, eyes glimmering. “I could tell that from the moment I saw you. I’m not that drunk.”

His eyebrow raises a bit as he tilts his head to the side. “And yet you invited me for a drink anyway,” he notes, his index finger on his free hand thrumming steadily on the bartop.

“Maybe I like danger,” you say, leaning in a bit closer just to test the waters.

Dazai doesn’t pull away, your heart races in your chest as his gaze traces your face, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips. You think you might’ve been wrong before when you compared the color of his eye to an abyss—now, beneath the lighting of the club, you think they’re far more reminiscent of a starry night, just as endless as the abyss, but not quite as dark and hopeless with the celestial bodies glittering within them.

“Maybe you should be more careful,” he murmurs, and there’s an odd shift in his voice—a warning, as if he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you agree idly, “or maybe I enjoy living life on the edge. It’s short enough as it is, isn’t it? I’d prefer to live it to the fullest than die having barely lived at all.”

“Living life to the fullest involves inviting shady men to drink with you and scheming out a second meeting without even having decided if you like them?” Dazai questions, voice low and amused.

“Shady?” you grin. “Well, I guess you said it, not me. Anyway, I’ve decided that I already like you, Dazai Osamu, so, of course, I’m going to scheme out a second meeting—hopefully, one where I’m not quite as drunk so I can actually charm you, I’m very charming when I’m sober, I’ve been told. I don’t fumble over my words quite as much, or lighters, for that matter.”

You’ve literally never been told once in your life that you’re charming when you’re sober, so you don’t know where that came from, but you decide to roll with it and hope for the best.

“I’ll have you know that I’m quite charmed already,” Dazai says, lips tilting up into a smile that seems a bit more genuine, reflecting in the way his eye curves up too. “If you get any more charming, I might just be in danger.”

“Well, do you like danger then?” you ask, resting your elbow on the bar so you can prop your chin on your hand, looking up at Dazai through your lashes. “We’ve already established that I enjoy it, are you going to join me on the edge, Dazai?”

For some reason, for a split second, it seems as if you’ve asked Dazai the most difficult question in the world—the space between his brows creases and the easy smile on his lips flattens, the starry sky painted in his eye dulls back into the terrible abyss. Your lips part to say something, because even with the fuzziness of your drink clouding your head, you know you made a mistake somewhere.

“I usually stay far from the edge,” he admits quietly, “... too much at risk for that.”

“... Usually?” you press, latching onto the word quickly as you toss him another teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Am I enough to tempt you closer to it, then?”

“You have no idea,” he breathes out so quietly that you think you’re not meant to overhear it. As if he realizes he might’ve said it a bit too loud, he tilts his head to the side and gives you half of a smile as he asks, “What makes you so sure you like me already, anyway?”

You match his smile, making a show of humming, dramatically thinking long and hard about it. Then you shrug, smile widening, “Don’t know. Maybe I just decided. Or maybe, I’d like to think it’s fate.”

Andddd you’ve made a mistake again. You falter when you see how his expression closes off instantly and you wish you could bite your own tongue off because, of course, it’s just your luck to have misspoken twice in a span of two minutes. This is why you don’t socialize with people.

“I don’t believe in fate,” he finally says, voice a bit tighter than it was before.

“Why?” you ask curiously, brows furrowing a bit.

He hesitates, gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns his gaze away, lifting it to the ceiling instead. All he says is: “I don’t like the idea of my life being predestined by some higher power—if there’s a fate, then I’ll exhaust everything I have trying to defy it.”

“Okay,” you agree, still not entirely understanding why he’s so against the idea of fate—you think it’s rather romantic but to each their own. Either way, you raise your glass to him, waiting for him to click his against yours. “To defying fate then.”

His throat bobs as he swallows at your words, an odd look in his eye as he repeats quietly, “To defying fate.”

Dazai is in trouble.

He thought he could indulge himself just for one night. If it’s his fate to meet you, then let it happen only once so he can be done with it—one night, and then everything will return to how it should be. He’ll fall back into the shadows and you’ll live your life in the light, a long and fulfilling life where he isn’t putting you in danger just by being around you. But he’s realizing, very quickly, that he severely overestimated his self-control, which is a feat in itself, really, because Dazai knew that his self-control would be abysmal when it comes to you but he still somehow managed to critically misjudge just how abysmal it would be.

He thinks he probably looks like a fool—you’re rambling about your work and the graduate school program you’d just been accepted into, you’re switching between topics so quickly that Dazai can hardly keep up, but he doesn’t care, he’s content just hearing your voice, slurred and excitable as it may be.

It’s different hearing it in person than it is in all of the vague memories of the other worlds—you’re different. You’re brighter. More alive. A shining star in a sea of midnight. The warmth of the sun giving life to a rotting corpse. For the first time in twenty-two years, Dazai Osamu feels like he’s finally breathing. The misty memories didn’t do you justice in any regard, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to return to the shadows alone after having felt the brief glow of your light, warm and comforting against his skin, because Dazai already can’t seem to get enough of it. He thinks you must be like a drug or something because there’s no other explanation for the way he’s so utterly entranced by the sight and sound of you.

A part of him wonders if all of the other Dazais have met this same fate at your hands: bewitched and spellbound, unable to draw their eyes away from you, hardly even able to remember to breathe in your presence. He thinks that they must have—he can see flashes of their lives and feel echoes of their emotions, and it’s always most intense whenever it involves you.

It’s a struggle just to remind himself to play the part of the ordinary man with you around so as to not scare you off, pretending he's like any other human being and not a monster wearing the skin of a man, like you haven’t been the object of his obsessions since the moment he came in contact with the Book. He tries to keep himself pliant and inviting with a loose posture and warm gaze, free of the intensity curdling through his body. He keeps his smile small and gentle, hiding the sharp and bloodied teeth decorating his mouth, and he keeps his touches brief, hardly ghosting your skin in fear that you’ll start rotting beneath it. He doesn’t know if he succeeds. He honestly doesn’t even know if you notice, you’re way more intoxicated than you originally made yourself out to be; he can tell from the way your ever-present smile is lopsided and the way your eyes are a bit glazed over, if it wasn’t abundantly apparent by the slur to your words.

“... and then, Hinata kept talking even though everyone else was… Dazai Osamu, are you even listening to me?”

He hums quietly as you abruptly turn your gaze back onto him and for a moment, Dazai is breathless—his name rolls off your tongue with the familiarity of a pair of lovers who’ve been together for years, and he swears that your eyes glitter beneath the lighting of the club as you look at him, and he doesn’t think anyone in his life has ever looked at him the way you do in this moment. Dazai Osamu has always been a name that no one would rather hear, attached to a man that no one would rather see. He’s not used to being talked to like this. He’s not used to being looked at like this.

He wants to be used to it.

He so, so desperately wants to be used to it.

You lean in when he doesn’t respond to you, a bit too close because he can smell the faded scent of your perfume and the gin on your tongue when he takes in a sharp breath to respond—it goes straight to Dazai’s head, his words dying before they can even formulate in his mouth. Everything feels fuzzy and light and Dazai thinks he might actually pass out. You’re such a far cry from the numb void that he’s used to, overwhelming his senses with the sight and touch and scent and sound of you, overwhelming his mind with emotions that he doesn’t know how to cope with and he just can’t get a handle on himself no matter how hard he tries. Every time he thinks he does, you throw another curveball at him like leaning in so close that Dazai swears if you were any closer, his lips would be brushing yours.

He’s never yearned like this before, not when he found himself in Odasaku’s house years ago as he tried to get ahold of that wretched painting and not during the long, dark nights when he found himself gasping awake, torn from dreams of lives he’ll never experience, the ghost of your lips still smiling against his skin. He can feel it deep in his chest, clogging his lungs and throat. He feels like he’s fighting the strings of a marionette as his fingers twitch at his side, begging him to reach out and feel the skin of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, cup the side of your face just to see if you’d lean into his touch, craving it the same way he craves yours.

He yearns and Dazai Osamu doesn’t know if he has the strength to deny himself of you now that he’s finally gotten a taste of what he could have. He tries to remind himself of what’s at stake, he tries to conjure the images that have plagued his nightmares so many times before—the sight of you crumpled in his arms, cold and still, and the sound of your cries for help, jarring and agonizing to his ears. But all he can muster is the sight of the wide and genuine smile that only you have ever directed toward him in all of his other lives and the sound of your bright laughter ringing in his ears, two things that he’s been deprived of entirely in this life until now.

“... if the phone call is that important, you can take it, y’know? You don’t have to sit here pretending to listen to me when you’re focused on that.”

Dazai is hardly able to drag himself back to the conversation at hand, your words processing slowly, as if his thoughts are being dragged through thick tar, but he forces himself to focus because even in your drunken state you sound a bit irritated.

He glances down at the bartop, where he had placed his phone down after taking a seat next to you, watching as it vibrates against the hardwood and as Chuuya’s name flashes across the screen. A few seconds pass, and his phone goes still and the missed call notification pops up on his screen—evidently along with nine others.

Dazai winces. He wishes the phone call had been what was distracting him—unfortunately, it’s impossible to tell you that he’s spiraling because of you without sounding psychotic.

As soon as the call ends, his phone is buzzing again, Chuuya's name flashing across the screen once more, persistent as ever. Dazai’s gaze cuts backward to where the two of you had come from, up to the windows on the second floor that look down on the main floor, and then he glances back down at his phone.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Dazai tells you quietly, reaching for his phone.

You toss him an easy smile that nearly has him faltering, whatever irritation you may have felt is gone in an instant.

“I’ll be waiting,” you tease, and Dazai’s heart is in his throat as he hesitates for just a second too long, as familiar words echo through his head, memories that aren’t his own from a life that he’d never be able to experience.

“I’ll wait for you.”

He lingers too long evidently because you shoo him away, spinning on the bar stool to face the bartender as you try to flag him down for another drink that you probably should not be having, seeing how you’re swaying a bit on the stool. Dazai only shakes his head as he makes his way away from the bar closer to the edges of the club, where it’s a bit quieter, if only marginally.

As soon as he leaves your presence, the familiar cold numbness returns, spreading like ice through his chest and he’s desperate to be back in your vicinity already, missing the warmth. Oh, this is trouble, he laments to himself, trying to push away the longing feeling spreading through him and instead turns his attention to purposely waiting until the last ring to answer Chuuya’s call, if only to be a bit spiteful because the other man’s persistence is the reason he had to leave you.

Lifting his phone to his ear, he asks coolly, “Do you need something, Chuuya?”

“Where the hell did you go?” Chuuya immediately hisses back, fury dripping from his words. He’s speaking quietly and Dazai can’t hear any conversation in the background, so he can only assume that Chuuya had stepped out of the room where the rest of the Port Mafia and Pale Flame executives were having their meeting. “You’ve been gone for forty minutes, Kouyou and I have been handling the meeting. Do you even have anyone with you right now? Hirotsu? Tachihara? Atsushi?”

“I’m sure you and Ane-san have been conducting the meeting perfectly fine without me,” Dazai says dismissively, leaning against the wall as his gaze cuts through the crowds to the bar he’d left you at but he can’t catch sight of you through the masses of people. He frowns, pacing a bit down the room to try to get a better angle.

“Bastard,” Chuuya spits out with a venomous type of disrespect that he only attacks Dazai with when he’s exceptionally frustrated. “Answer my question. Where the hell are you? Do you have a protection detail on you? What are you doing?”

“I’m in the club still,” Dazai says distantly, and he’s sure Chuuya can tell that he’s barely paying attention to the conversation because the man lets out a noise caught between a snarl and a growl, much like the dog he is. “I’ll be fine, we have men stationed all over—you’re always so uptight, Chuuya, you should pull out the stick every once in a while.”

“You-” Chuuya says loudly and sharply, cutting himself off abruptly, evidently having realized he’s let himself get too loud. Dazai is hardly listening at this point, getting increasingly more agitated as the masses of crowds block his line of sight to where you should be sitting. “I’m coming down there.”

That catches Dazai’s attention.

“Do not.” The two words leave his lips, a command so cold and cutting that he can practically hear Chuuya jolt in surprise at the sudden shift from the absent tone he’d been speaking with before. He forces his voice to take upon a more teasing lilt as he says, “I met a girl, Chuuya. If you come down here, your ugly mug will scare her right off.”

“What?” Chuuya sounds so baffled it’s almost comical. Dazai might’ve found amusement in it were he not so irritated with his current predicament. “I-you-what?”

“You sound so shocked, Chuuya. Some of us talk to more women than just Ane-san and Gin-chan, you know?” Dazai drawls, noticing that there’s a gap in the crowds up ahead that should give him a direct view toward the bar, beelining toward it immediately.

“Shut up,” Chuuya seethes. “Who the hell would even give you the time of day? And since when do you seek out women? You’ve never shown any interest before.”

“Are you jealous?” Dazai croons. “It’s an ugly look on you, Chuuya.”

Chuuya splutters. “The fuck is wrong with you tonight?” he demands. “You’ve been acting like a damn freak ever since we left the base. Mood swings left and right.”

“You know I don’t like…” Dazai trails off as he finally gets a direct view of the bar, dark eye focusing in on where you seem to be arguing with an unfamiliar man. The smile that had been curling to the corners of his lips falls flat and his gaze goes cold—ice spreads through his chest again but this time it isn’t a result of the numbness, rather it’s a much more dangerous emotion that threatens to erupt. “I have to go.”

“Bastard, if you hang up on me-”

Dazai doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence, hanging up the call and slipping his phone into his pocket, ignoring it when it immediately starts buzzing again. He doesn’t waste a second before he makes his way back across the club to the bar.

If people had avoided him before, it was nothing compared to now, watching them scramble out of his way even in their drugged-up and intoxicated states. He doubts that most of them even know the significance of who he is, they can just feel the cold fury rolling off of him in waves. It’s a bit impressive, honestly, how quickly he’s able to get back to you, and his hand darts out quickly, fingers wrapping tightly around the wrist of the man who was grabbing your forearm, if his grip was any tighter, the man’s bones would be cracking beneath his touch.

The reaction is instantaneous. Your gaze draws up to him, relief flooding your eyes at the sight of him—distantly, Dazai notes that he thinks that this might be the first time in his life anyone has ever been relieved to see him, but he’s more preoccupied with the man who was bothering you, who’s now turning toward him with an irritated expression.

“Look, man.” Dazai’s hidden eye twitches at the casual address, but he makes sure that the annoyance doesn’t show on his face. “Just trying to get her home, the rest of our coworkers left already.”

Dazai’s vice-like grip doesn’t budge, but his mind races. This is his out. If he lets you go home with your coworker, then he can go back up to the meeting taking place on the second floor and he can try to scorch his mind of the yearning that’s been plaguing him so intensely. Things can go back to normal—his one night of indulgence over, no matter how agonizing the thought of that is. He can return to the Port Mafia base, back in the shadows, and he can use the memory of this night with you to fuel his dedication to his grand plan of protecting this world. It’s a perfect setup, honestly, if he disregards two critical issues: 1) he’s probably incapable of scorching his mind of the yearning you’ve brought on and 2) more importantly, you’re staring at him with an expression nothing short of pleading, seemingly begging him not to leave.

The words escape his lips before he can think to stop them: “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take her home.”

The faux-concern that the man had been directing toward you disappears as soon as Dazai speaks, shifting into an expression that probably would have been concerning to anyone who wasn’t a literal mafioso, and Dazai is not just a mafioso, he is their boss and he has dealt with people who were objectively much more powerful and concerning than a regular civilian who thinks he’s tougher than he is. So Dazai only tilts his head to the side a bit, the corner of his lip curves up in amusement as he pointedly looks over the man once. The cool metal of the gun hidden in his jacket weighs heavily as a reminder that it’s there and ready for him to use; his fingers twitch toward it, but instead, he pockets his hands, deciding against it, if only because he thinks pulling out a gun might scare you away. He doesn’t want that.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asks furiously—Dazai wonders, a bit absently, if this is that Takeda fellow you were complaining about earlier, he certainly fits the picture with the beady eyes and weaselly face.

“An old friend,” Dazai drawls—not entirely a lie, just in a different life, and definitely more than friends, but he doesn’t need to know that. “We’ve been catching up. You can go.”

It’s not a request, and evidently, the man isn’t stupid enough to keep pressing Dazai because his confidence falters as he takes a step back, letting go of your arm. Or more probably, he caught a glimpse of the glint of metal hidden by his coat when Dazai shifted to look at you. Either way, Dazai doesn’t care because the man stutters out a few words and a ‘see you Monday’ to you before turning tail and leaving.

Dazai doesn’t bother correcting him—he definitely will not be seeing you on Monday. He ensures that through the silent order in the sharp look, he gives Tachihara Michizo, who’s been lingering on the outskirts of the club for five minutes now, no doubt trying to keep an eye on him under Chuuya’s command. Tachihara doesn’t hesitate as he nods his head, gaze following the retreating figure of the man before he slinks right after him.

He thinks you have bad friends. Coworkers. Whatever. All of them leaving you drunk and alone with someone who’s a stranger in their eyes. Yes, he scared the only one that tried away, but if it was Dazai in his position, not even god himself would be able to scare him away from making sure you get home safely.

They don’t deserve you, he decides firmly, and those dark thoughts from earlier return, whispering that he should just take you for himself, tuck you away in the tallest towers of the Port Mafia base. He’d keep you safe. He’d make you happy. You’d never have to want for anything ever again, he’d give you the entire world if you so pleased. He shuts off the train of thought before it can become any more tempting, knowing that his thread of self-control concerning you is waning at best.

Dazai promptly turns his attention back to you and all of the irritation that he might’ve been feeling about your coworkers and that man washes away when he catches the dazzled look on your face as you look up at him, elbow propped on the bartop and chin resting in your hand.

“Thanks,” you say so softly that Dazai barely hears you over the thundering music and clamoring people around the two of you. “That was Takeda… I don’t know, maybe he didn’t mean any harm but… I just don’t want him to know where I live, I guess.”

You look sleepy now, eyes a bit heavy and shoulders slumped; the alcohol must’ve worked its way through you already. Dazai also can’t help but notice that the front of your dress is drenched with what looks like the rest of your drink; it must have spilled in the brief struggle between you and your coworker.

“You’d rather a stranger know, then?” Dazai can’t help but ask, making sure to keep his voice teasing, watching you carefully for a response.

He’s curious to know if you feel even half as drawn to him as he is to you, to know if this really is a mutual bond that transcends worlds or if it’s a sick obsession on his part triggered by the revelations of the Book. Or it could be both. It’s probably both. Dazai is pretty sure what he feels for you isn’t normal or healthy, and he’s not sure if it’s any healthier in any of the other universes or if every other Dazai is just as twisted when it comes to love as he is.

“You don’t feel like a stranger,” you admit quietly, looking up at him through your lashes and Dazai’s heart leaps into his throat, clogging his airways and threatening to suffocate him. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Dazai breathes out instantly, the confirmation that your words give him lights a dangerous fire in his chest, one that he needs to put out but can’t bring himself to. “I feel the same.”

Your expression softens, eyes tracing his face, and Dazai thinks he would set the entire world on fire just for you to look at him like that again. Then, he realizes, throat a bit tighter now, that the words are not quite the empty promise that they would be coming from anyone else’s lips—he might just be setting everything he’s built on fire just for you, and your warmth is not enough to push away the cold awareness that suddenly spreads through his body, putting out all of the fires that his time with you has set within him.

He reaches out, knuckles grazing your cheek. Your lashes flutter as you lean into his touch and instantly, he’s set aflame again, it’s raging through his chest and melting the ice and Dazai thinks he doesn’t care if this is a bond that transcends worlds or a sick obsession. He thinks it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he needs you so desperately that it might kill him if he doesn’t have you.

It might kill you if he does have you.

Fire and ice wage a brutal war within him, a futile battle because no matter how much the ice tries to spread, the flames melt it away, and he realizes that he can’t be around you when the war is inevitably won because he’ll never be able to drag himself away from you.

One night, he reminds himself, sharp and scolding, one night of indulgence. That’s all.

“Come on,” Dazai murmurs. “Let’s get you home.”

Dazai wonders how a place he’s never been to can feel so much like home.

Or, well, he assumes this is what a home would feel like, it’s not like he’s ever actually had one to compare to. The penthouse suite of the Port Mafia base is closer to a prison than something he can consider a home. He doesn’t remember enough of his childhood to know if he lived somewhere back then that he considered a home. The shipping container he lived in during his teenage years is probably the closest thing he has to compare to and even then, he never felt safe or warm or comforted there, he just had the distant reassurance that no one would ever bother him while he was there and that was more than he had anywhere else.

And this is…

He doesn’t really know how to describe it, the words just won’t come to him—a rare occurrence, considering Dazai’s always been known to have a tongue of the purest silver, acquiring the most lucrative deals for the Port Mafia despite egregious odds and hostile parties solely because he’s learned to read and charm people to the best of his ability. His brain and his tongue have been the driving force behind the Mafia’s rapid and exponential expansion across Japan and into the mainland, yet both fail him now.

Courtesy of you and your influence, naturally.

The curve to his lips is fond as he trails his fingers across the back of the couch in your living room. It’s all so achingly familiar, as if he’s been here a thousand times before—if he lets his eye flutter shut, he can almost picture you cross-legged on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate tucked neatly between your hands, dozing off as he regales you with nonsensical stories.

Everything is just how he remembers it from the vague memories. Your desk is set up near the window on the far side of your room, next to the bench where he would sit and watch you while you study, pouting until you finally decided to give him attention. Papers are strewn all across your coffee table; he flips through them idly, realizing that they’re all study materials for the entrance exam to the graduate school you’d just been accepted into—he makes sure to leave them in the same order that you’d left them in, recalling how often you’d end up yelling at him for messing up your piles. A picture hangs on your wall near the door of you and your brother—familiar, why is he so familiar? His gaze lingers for a moment, brows furrowing before he shakes his head, putting the thought in the back of his head as he wonders if he ended up passing in this universe too.

He wanders over to the kitchen and his eyes narrow just a smidge, noticing that there are two dirty mugs in your sink, the ones you’d always use to make those fancy hot chocolates of yours. He hums to himself softly as he traces his finger along the rim of one, recognizing the same shade of lipstick you wore tonight staining the brim. The other mug has no such stain. His throat tightens a bit, gaze flickering up to the cabinet he recalls you usually putting your ingredients and when he opens the cabinet, he thinks he might feel a bit sick, seeing them all up on a shelf too high for you to reach on your own—you always put them on the lower shelves.

His jaw tightens as he pointedly puts them all back down on the lower shelf before shutting the cabinet, a bit more tense now than he was a few moments before. His gaze cuts across your apartment, searching for any sign of who you might’ve been having over—someone important enough for you to make your favorite hot chocolate for—but he finds none until his eyes land on a jacket crumpled in the corner of the room that’s definitely not yours, hidden halfway beneath one of the pillows on his window bench. He has to remind himself that it’s not his and he’s never been here before now so he has no claim over anything.

He makes his way over to it, yanking it out and lifting it to his nose. It doesn’t smell like you, it’s an unfamiliar woody scent that makes his stomach churn for more than one reason—the most primary one being that he doesn’t know whose it is and why they’re leaving clothes at your apartment. It’s a man’s, certainly, he can tell that much from the scent and the size and Dazai thinks he might feel a bit light-headed at the idea of you having other men over your apartment. His only solace comes in the fact that there doesn’t appear to be any other signs of his presence, but it’s a small solace at best.

He has to leave. The longer he lingers in your apartment, the more he’s struggling to decipher the already blurred line between the lives he remembers and his unfortunate reality.

One night of indulgence, he reminds himself for the nth time because the night is over. You’d passed out long before even arriving at your apartment, after you gave the address luckily because for better or for worse, that had been one of the few things Dazai hadn’t retained from the vague memories he has of the other universes.

He trails back over to the door that leads to your bedroom, a heavy feeling settling over his chest as he leans against the frame. His gaze draws to where you’re fast asleep beneath the covers, still dressed in the outfit you’d worn to the club because although all of the other Dazais would have changed you into something more comfortable when you’re too drunk to do it yourself, he does not retain that privilege in this world. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s some perverted creep.

Dazai sighs, eyes sliding shut as he lets himself bask in the moment for just a little longer, dreading having to return to the harsh reality of a life without you, fated to be alone until he’s sure that he’s secured the safety of this world when he can take the final step in guaranteeing that you and Odasaku will be able to live out your lives peacefully. Without him.

He wants to touch you one last time, brush his fingers against your cheek, enjoy the way your warmth spreads through him, but he thinks he’s tested his self-control too much for one day. He fears that if he pushes it anymore, he’ll never be able to go back to how it was, so it’s with a heart that pleads for him to reconsider and a body that resists his every move that he turns away from your bedroom, making his way over to your kitchen counter to grab the key that he fished out of your purse.

It takes all of his restraint to not look back, jaw clenched so tight that he thinks his teeth might grind down to dust. He steps outside and the fresh air feels like poison to his lungs, he wants to step back inside, drown himself in the familiar scent of you, the familiar scent of the only home he’s ever known in any lifetime, the one he has to deny himself of for the sake of preserving this world, for the sake of saving Odasaku and saving you.

His fingers tremble a bit as he slides the key into the lock and turns it, checking twice to make sure it locks properly so no one can sneak in while you’re sleeping, before kneeling down to slide the key beneath the crack of the door back into your apartment.

As soon as the key is out of his reach, Dazai feels cold and empty; the black hole within him expands now that he’s vulnerable again without your presence fighting it off, and the force of it is ten times as lethal now that he’s experienced what life might be without it constantly consuming him. He stares at your door for a second after rising to his feet, his mind and heart and body all at war with each other. The parts of him that haven’t festered and withered over the years beg him to just go back to you, tell you everything, and crumble in your arms and pray that you don’t think he’s delusional and call the police on him; the parts of him that have been corrupted by the time he’s spent in the darkest parts of the world whisper more dangerous words, telling him to go back in and take you back with him, it doesn’t matter what you want if it means he can keep you safe, and he knows that one day you’ll understand why he did it, you’ll even be happy because you’re meant to be happy with him, no matter how it comes about.

And he thinks he’s a fool because the only fortunate thing about his circumstances had been that no matter how vividly he remembered you and your apartment, the Book had not passed on the knowledge of its location, so he’d never been tempted to “accidentally” seek you out by wandering in locations that you frequent because he had no idea where you were. Yokohama isn’t a small city and he was never going to cross the line of purposely seeking you out through the use of Port Mafia resources because that meant he was purposely putting you in danger.

But now, he’ll have the knowledge of your location dangling in front of his face for the rest of his life, however long it may be. Every day will be a struggle to resist the urge to seek you out, as if everything isn’t hard enough for him already.

Frustration builds in his chest as he makes his way down to the parking lot of the apartment complex. Realistically, Dazai had plenty of options that would have objectively been better than this. He could have sent you with his driver alone, but the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Albatross, the Flags remain among the most loyal members of the Port Mafia, but Dazai doesn’t think anyone is worthy enough to lay their hands on you. He thinks that if Albatross had reported back to him that he had to carry you into your apartment and put you in your bed, he might’ve put a bullet through his skull and then he’d have to deal with mutiny and he can’t afford a mutiny when things are already so tenuous, stability in the Port Mafia has to be paramount until he can get through all five phases of his plan.

But even if he didn’t send you with Albatross, he could have had Kouyou handle this. Kouyou already knows of you, she’s the one that he assigned to make sure you’re never threatened by Yokohama’s underground, and she knew where your apartment was already. It still leaves a sour taste in his mouth but not as strong as the thought of sending you with Albatross. He could’ve had Kouyou take care of this and he could’ve been free of the temptation already looming over him but-

But Dazai is selfish. Dazai is selfish and reckless when it comes to you; even when he knows what’s at stake, even when he knows the destruction that he brings. Fate, the word rings through his head, mocking him. Fate, fate, fate. It’s his fate to always be drawn to you, like a bee to honey and a moth to flame, irresistible and inexorable. He can’t avoid it and he can’t control himself no matter how hard he tries. You’re tied together by threads that the gods shorten with every passing second and they laugh down at him as they watch him trying to resist it.

It’s his fate to be drawn to you.

It’s his fate to be your destruction.

Dazai slips back into the backseat of Albatross’s sleek black car, shutting the door just a bit too harshly, gaze immediately drifting back toward the apartment complex, up to the closed door on the second level where he’d left you. He waits for the car to pull away, but it doesn’t. Irritated, he turns his gaze to the rearview mirror in the front of the car, catching Albatross staring at him curiously, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Dazai asks, voice low and icy.

Albatross is unperturbed—of all of the members of the Port Mafia, only he and Chuuya never flinch at his unapproachability. “Ya gotta girl now, boss?” he asks curiously, tilting his head to the side as he waits for Dazai’s response.

“No.”

“Hm.” Albatross only hums as if he’s disappointed by the answer. “You seemed happier, s’all. Never seen you like that before. Was nice.”

Dazai’s jaw tightens again at the man’s words, biting words threatening to escape his lips but he swallows them. Instead, he becomes acutely aware of the jacket that he’s still holding in his left hand. His expression twists and then he tosses it into the front seat at Albatross, who blinks and catches it, looking down confused.

“Whadya want me to do with this?” he asks, baffled.

“Burn it.” Is all Dazai responds with. “Take me back to the base.”

“... You got it, boss,” Albatross murmurs, and he still sounds disappointed, but an order is an order so he doesn’t hesitate as he starts the car back up and pulls out of the complex’s parking lot.

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave your apartment door once until Albatross finally turns down a street out of sight of the building.

One night of indulgence, he reminds himself for the last time. One night of indulgence and then he’ll never encounter you again. For better or for worse, that’s how it has to be.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #beast dazai osamu x reader #beast dazai osamu x you #beast dazai x you #beast dazai x reader

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thisismeracing · 3 months

Text

Your time | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x singer!reader ― Warnings: mentions of cheating; lots of rumors about lewis being an a*hole; mentions of juliana nalu and shakira, but all fictional. ― Summary: A couple months after the biggest breakup in the F1 paddock, your song gets leaked and the internet uproars about your relationship again. This time they have more ammunition than ever to feed the narrative that Lewis Hamilton cheated on you. Are they right though? (based on this request).

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September, 2023

paddockgossip

liked by ynfan, haileybieber, and others

paddockgossip how would you guys feel if your man goes out with another singer and looks this cozy while you’re out there on tour working your ass off? 👀

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sunshineyn you know shits real when her friend hailey likes the post…

⤷ pinterestyln I thought the same

leclercnation you guys forgot to add that yn and shakira aren’t friends, were never seem together, couldnt bother to talk about one another, yet this is the second time we see her around lewis this week…

randuser @ yourusername bestie come get your man!

schumakatchau this looks oddly like a double date

raintyres GUYS HIS HAND PLACEMENT!!! HES HOLDING SHAKIRAS WAIST 😭😭😭😭

tomdayastan my girl Yn doesn’t deserve this

evansnature are you guys really that surprised? He’s a man, I expect anything from a man

January, 2024

February, 2024

f1wagsupdate

liked by pierregasly, mbappeworld, and others

f1wagsupdate According to our sources Yn Yln and Lewis Hamilton broke up ealier this month. There is not an official reason yet, but most fans believe that cheating was the cause of the downfall of the four-years-long relationship.

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user44 is true love even real?

gomezracing I hate it in here

drugobitch what if its because of the cheating rumors?

⤷ rand32 but why would she wait weeks after it?

likedbypgasly and so it goes the best wag of the paddock :(

mclarenmason did you guys see that thread someone made about Yn's looks on the paddock and her cheering for lew, and them matching sometimes *sobs into my hands*

yourusername

liked by roscoelovescoco, k.mbappe, and others

yourusername making music and enjoying some free time after touring 💞

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mbappeworld I wish Lewis and Kyllian weren’t friends bc I kinda ship him with Yn 😭

hailyebieber 😍😍😍😍

sza waiting for our collabbbbb! ❤️

⤷ ynfan the day these two write a song together is the day I’ll be stuck in my room crying for a week straight

ynnation She looks so relaxed, more than when she was with Lewis

hardtyres_ I wish I could be like this after being cheated on, when my ex did this to me I had to go to therapy for at least a year before going back on social media

⤷ agoradoja there’s no proof he cheated on her

⤷ winteryln sure, except for the hundreds of pics of him with singers and models 😍 but y’all taking it too serious, he was just friendly with them

⤷ agoradoja maybe he was just friendly, Lewis is famous, dare I say even more than Yn, so being friends with different famous people is part of his life.

⤷ bonoschumi I’ll have to agree with agoradoja, there’s nothing too incriminatinf, maybe we’re just trying to find a reason because we don’t accept that they fell out of love

⤷ leclercmcqueen she literally wrote “its just us against the world” for him, wdym they fell out of love????

bieberfantasy yeah but how about roscoe liking the post????? It's making me hopeful

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©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

― Reminder: None of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

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earthtooz · 1 year

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x : I KNOW I LOVE YOU ! :*+ﾟ all or nothing, i want all of you!:

aka moments that the bllk boys knew they loved you ! ╰┈➤ with nagi, itoshi rin, and reo mikage !

warnings: gn!reader, no pronouns, mentions of food in all three, swearing in rin's + he's kind of mean but like that's just who he is and i don't want to fix him for it <3, fluff for all 3, sickness in nagi's, i think that's all the warnings, lmk otherwise!

a/n: last fic of 2022, i gasped when i saw that photo of beomgyu BYEEEE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH tumblr deserves to see him!!! reblogs appreciated :( the ratio of reblogs to likes is so sad sometimes so pls, if you enjoyed this fic, pls take the time to reblog - no matter how small or big ur blog is!!! rblgs is the best way to motivate ur favourite writers + help their works circulate around this site so always pls consider reblogging!

NAGI SEISHIRO: knew he loved you when you took care of him when he was sick.

nagi stirs awake with a groan, immediately engulfed by an insufferable warmth that caused him to kick the covers off his body.

as he shuffles to get comfortable again, he registers sounds coming from his kitchen, something he doesn't bother to investigate because he's hit by the dryness of his throat. glancing to his bedside table, there sat a glass of water that was practically calling his name, an offer he couldn't resist as he downed the drink in four seconds.

he then cringes at the stinging of his head.

so the headache still hasn't passed. what a pain.

he wants to go back to bed, to give in to the comfiness of his pillow and return to dreamland where his head wouldn't kill him. but, with the clanging and sizzling coming from the kitchen, it wouldn't hurt to check out what was happening, right?

dawdling out of bed, he slowly but surely makes his way to his door, opening it quietly before heading out into the kitchen, where you stood by the stove.

you were dancing to your playlist that was faintly playing in the background whilst tending to the pans on the stove top. one had eggs and spam, the other was boiling some instant noodles.

what were you doing here?

he's shortly flooded by recollections of what happened hours prior. nagi had invited you over to spend the day with him at his apartment but minutes before you arrived, he felt light-headed and dizzy. when he opened the door for you, he practically collapsed in your arms, and that was where the memory ended.

the fact that you stayed rather than simply going home to let him take care of himself warmed nagi, filling him with a feeling that he forgot long ago.

something like comfort.

"oh my god!" you exclaim, placing a hand to your chest at the sudden sight of a 6'3 man looming at the entrance of the kitchen. "sei, don't do that!"

turning off the fire, you quickly make your way to him, placing the back of your hand against his forehead.

it's still a little warm. he thought he just had a headache, did he have a fever? is that why he collapsed?

he should be grateful that he's not him taking care of himself.

"how do you feel?" you ask, brushing his hair back from his skin. he pouts slightly, leaning into your touch.

"my head is killing me," he murmurs, about to slouch on to you when you abruptly step away to fish for something in a plastic bag on the counter.

at the lack of your touch, he groans to protest, but you show him a small box you bought. painkillers.

did you go out and buy him stuff whilst he was asleep? just how good are you? what did he do to deserve you?

"take two pills and i'll prepare your food for you," you tell him before grabbing a bowl, a plate and chopsticks. nagi simply watches as you plate the goods, his stomach aching for your food whilst you sprinkle some nori over his ramen. the fried spam and eggs smelled divine.

soon enough, you sit him down at his two-person dining table before ambling away to clean up.

he misses you even more when he takes a bite of his food. nagi hasn’t had anyone take care of him in so long, not in the way that mattered at least. sure, he wouldn’t trade the world for reo and all he gives him, and he's thankful to his parents for the funds they've given him, but you take care of him because you want to. there’s no ‘dream’ you’re gaining using him as an asset, everything you've done, you've done for him to feel better.

and when nagi combines all the ingredients together in one bite, he’s filled with the love that homemade food provides, even if its just instant ramen with a little more nutrients.

it’s more delicious than his ‘win’ yoghurts could ever be and nagi can’t go back now.

when you return, the white-haired beams at you as you take a seat beside him, your chin leaning into your palm as you brush a hand through his tangled locks.

“how are you feeling, sei?” you question softly.

“amazing.” he says before digging back in.

his eagerness causes a small laugh to slip and nagi perks up at the delightful sound, watching the way your nose crinkles and your lips part. then, he grabs some noodles and offers them to you, a gift you gladly take, humming at the taste. he does the same for the egg and spam and as he watches you with adoration in his eyes, he can't help but be overfilled with love.

“thank you,” mutters nagi.

“you’re welcome. now eat up and feel better, genius.”

his words of gratitude have far deeper meaning than you realise, but nagi has a while to show you just how thankful he was for you.

ITOSHI RIN: knew he loved you when your company was something he didn't get tired of.

at 10 am, there’s a knock on the door to rin’s apartment.

he’s knows who it is before even greeting said person, and when your smiling face appears on the other side of the door, rin can’t help the excitement bubbling in his chest, signified through the small smile he tries to fight down.

“hi rin,” you greet, stepping forward to press a kiss against his cheek. that smile of his widens.

“hello.”

the dark-haired opens his arms expectantly and you drop three hoodies on them, all of them were his and freshly washed. he rolls his eyes.

“i wanted a hug,” scoffed rin.

“oh,” you laughed before throwing your arms around his torso, staying there like that for a few moments before separating. “anyhow, i should probably get going. i’ll see you-”

“why aren’t you staying?” he asks, coming off as more of a demand.

“because we didn’t plan for it?”

“you should stay and watch a movie.”

“aww does rinnie not have anything else to do?” you say with a mocking tone, but it’s all lighthearted and fun, especially when he pulls you in his apartment and locks the door behind you.

“shut up. go pick a movie.”

approximately ten minutes later, you’re curled up on the couch with rin lying over your body, peacefully splayed with his chest resting on your sternum whilst you absentmindedly play with his hair, too engaged in the movie.

rin, on the other hand, didn’t find any enjoyment in your choice at all. “why the fuck are we watching ‘it’?” he asked, shuffling a little, causing you to stifle a giggle due to his movements.

you shrug. “it just popped up. thought you liked horror movies.”

“horror movies that aren’t shit.”

“touché. now shut up, i want to watch.”

he grumbles something before relaxing into you again, more focused on the sound of your heartbeat than the events of the movie. eventually, the even beats lulls him into a light slumber, fast asleep despite the way it sometimes speeds in anticipation.

you, on the other hand, realise that he’s fallen asleep due to the slight wheezes he lets out, not loud enough to border a snore, but not peaceful enough to simply be breathing.

when the movie finishes, you shake him lightly to stir him from his sleep and when you meet his slightly hazy gaze, you feel a little bad for waking him.

“the movie’s done, i should get going now,” you mutter, setting your hands on his shoulders as to push him off, but as soon as you announce your plans of leaving, rin holds on even tighter to your body. “hey! get off!” you try your best to push him away despite your laughter that ripples through the air.

“you should stay for lunch,” suggests your boyfriend, who rests his chin on your sternum. his eyes were practically pleading for you to agree, shining with hope.

he’s lucky you have nothing to do today, and that you were hungry.

when you roll your eyes and put your hands up in mock surrender, rin can’t help but smile a little, giddy at the idea of being able to spend more time with you.

hold on- since when was he happy at the idea of spending more time with anyone?

“shall we eat here or out?” you asked, your hands resuming threading through rin’s hair again. it was so smooth, what did he use in it? smelt nice too.

“here. too lazy.”

after a few minutes of deciding what to eat, the delivery showed up rather quickly at his apartment. when you both settled down to eat, rin couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, unable to help but think about how nice it was to be in your company and simply exist. he wants to do this for the rest of his life.

you seem to have other plans.

“so,” you begin, plate now empty. “i’m probably going to head home now-”

“wait, what? no.”

“no?”

“i paid for lunch, you should repay me by keeping me company.”

with a huff, you cross your arms. “okay mr athlete’s salary, i’ll transfer you-”

“-can’t you just stay a little longer?”

“ask nicely.”

“can’t you please just stay a little longer?”

“if you insist,” you sigh dramatically, batting your eyelashes at him jokingly. rin scoffs. “what do you want to do?”

you actually ended up doing nothing for the next few hours, simply scrolling on your phone whilst laid on rin’s lap. he’s resorted to watching some past recorded matches, sometimes of himself, sometimes of other notable soccer athletes.

the sun was now beginning to set and having been here since 10 am, you were beginning to feel bored out of your mind.

you were also beginning to feel as if you were burdening rin with your company so, with a yawn, you begin to sit up. the athlete pauses his video and looks at you curiously.

“i should get going now,” you say, rubbing your eyes.

“what?”

“i said i should get going now,” you repeat.

“no, no, i heard you the first time,” he mutters, a little bite in his tone. “why?”

“cause we’re not doing anything? plus i’m bored out of my mind and need some fresh air.”

“then we can get fresh air together, you don’t have to leave yet.”

“you’re real insistent on keeping me here, guess you just like me too much, huh?”

rin leans in closer to your shit-eating grin, placing a hand on your cheek to press a fleeting kiss to your lips, one that leaves you wanting more.

then you find yourself on the rooftop of his apartment complex, one that overlooks the beautiful horizon of tokyo and leaves you breathless as you gaze over the beautiful sight of the sunset colours bleeding together. with itoshi rin by your side, it feels even better.

leaning on his shoulder, you were not aware that your boyfriend’s eyes were admiring you instead of the sunset before you. he takes his time breathing the sight of you in, how beautiful you look with the hues of orange painting your skin.

it’s funny. rin feels so purposeful with you, like he was made to be by your side and nowhere else.

maybe he should ask you to move in.

MIKAGE REO: knew he loved you when you cared about him, not his image.

he's not used to this, the feeling of being adored for who he was rather than what he was. you don't like him because he's rich, that he was a spawn of a billionaire, you don't like him because he's a talented soccer player either. you like him because he's funny, unique, generous, and despite his self-centred upbringing, ironically selfless in his own way.

the trained smile and behaviour that reo plasters on every morning crumbles whenever he's around you.

he greets you at the park you agreed to meet up at and you return his wave with a smile, pulling your scarf down from your mouth where you were attempting to warm yourself from the cold.

"hi," you mumble, dancing a little from side to side to shake the jitters of the cold away.

"hi, i didn't keep you waiting too long, did i?" he asks.

you shake your head. "no, i just forgot some extra layers. i thought my gloves were in this coat too but i must have been mistaken."

reo frowns at your ice-bitten demeanour, feeling a sudden urge to wrap you up, give you all his warmth and shield you from the winter weather.

"anyways," your voice breaks his thoughts. "have you eaten yet?"

he widens his eyes a little in shock, taken aback by your question, one clearly asked out of care and affection. you were the one freezing your ass off due to your own negligence yet you had the nerve to ask if he had taken care of himself.

instead of asking about the latest product mikage corporations released- a news segment that was taking the business world by storm, you ask reo if he had eaten.

strange. he feels strange. it's nice.

"no, not since breakfast," he coughs after his mouth had caught up to his mind.

you tug at his arm gently, "then c'mon, there's a nearby 7/11. i hope they have sweet potato, we can get two for the both of us!"

the purple-haired can't fight the smile that tugs on the corners of his mouth, obliging happily with your requests as he allows you to pull him in the direction of the store. before you could leave the park, however, reo skids to a stop, dragging you back to him.

ignoring your curious gaze, he nimbly goes to take the wool gloves off of his hands. when one is off, he swiftly grabs your wrist to thread your fingers through the fabric, all whilst you actively ignore how warm reo's hands are and how soft they are when they encompass your wrist. his fingertips leave trials of fire burning on your skin but you don't jump back from the sensation. instead, you let it happen.

his gloves are a tad bit too big for your hands, but you feel warm immediately. whether that's a direct result of the gloves or not, you don't really want to know.

"this okay?" asks reo, gaze meeting yours. you try to trick yourself into believing that the softness of his expression was because of the wind, and that the snow was playing tricks on your eyes.

swallowing thickly, you nod. "won't you be cold?"

he wriggles his fingers slightly before shrugging.

with a small chuckle, you grab his bare ones and bundle them together with yours, a weak attempt at sharing warmth.

but, reo appreciates it nevertheless, smiling at how focused you seemed to be when caring for him.

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lovebittenbyevans · 8 days

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Being married for five years to Gojo Satoru is not all that it seems to be.

Pairing: Actor!Gojo Satoru x Wife!Female Reader

Warnings: angst, cursed words, fame au

Author note: Hello, Welcome to Life In The Spotlight AU Universe series. Enjoy reading this out of order chronological series. Comment, like and reblog.

– I don’t do taglist at all. If you want to keep up just click the notification

Being around the parties, rich celebrities was always a good time to be at. You got used to the fame of being Gojo's girlfriend at first then wife over the years. Everywhere you go with Gojo paparazzi always taking pictures of you two or sometimes a video.

His fans love him like crazy and you were not surprised what an amazing fanbase Gojo has. Even though some of his fans send you death threats every now and then. On social media you had to put your account private because everyday some fans leave nasty comments as well.

Although you were able to live your life the way you wanted while being with Gojo, you started to notice a change in him for the last few months. He was always working which was understandable but he would stop calling you and text you while he is at work on set being busy.

You would send him a lot of voicemail and text messages since he doesn’t answer your calls anymore. He would sometimes come home late drunk and out of his mind. Some days he doesn't bother to say hello to you or kiss you. The connection between you two was slipping away slowly.

You were over it.

You were tired.

You felt your feelings to be all over the place. You can tell he was not the same Gojo you fell in love with and wanted to marry. You can tell the spark between you two is always there but it feels like you two are drifting apart.

Sitting on the bed, you were still deciding whether to go to the Screen Actors Guild Awards this evening. You were so busy this morning being around your friends that you almost forgot about it.

Of course you wanted to show your support for your husband even though you already feel off. You sat there on the bed holding your dress when you heard his voice along with his footsteps. “Babe, are you almost ready?”

He stopped at the door when you glanced up at him. “Babe we are going to be–” You cut him off immediately. “I decided I don’t want to actually go, Gojo.”

Gojo eyes were on you. “What?” He never once heard you turn down any award show you wanted to go to with him.

Your eyes filled with tears as he entered the room. “What do you mean?”

You glanced at him and wiped your tears away swiftly. “This marriage and us, I can't do this anymore.” You continue to speak. “We don’t communicate anymore. It’s obvious you don’t answer my calls and texts. You come home drunk all the time. You are out everyday at some dinner and always at one of your friend’s parties.”

You had to let it out. You've been holding this in for so long that you didn’t know how to tell him. You love Gojo so much but sometimes you wish he was a different person and your marriage could be so much better.

He crosses his arms as his back touches against the wall. “Y/N, I may not be the fairy tale prince you wanted but I treated you good.”

You scoff and meet his gaze. “Fairy tale prince? I never told you I wanted that princess Cinderella bullshit!” Your voice started to get loud.

As he runs his fingers through his white hair, he sighs. “Y/N, don’t lie. You wanted that version with me during this whole marriage and I gave you that.” He knew you were going to not tell him the truth about what you really wanted in this marriage.

“What I wanted!? Wow.” Your voice got even louder. “Gojo, when we met and started seeing each other you were the sweetest guy. I wanted to be with. You were a romantic as well and it’s obvious all you wanted was my attention even after we got married.”

You can’t believe this bullshit. The Gojo you got was when you two first started dating and seeing each other. He hasn’t changed until after you have been married to him for five years.

He shakes his head while listening to you. “You started ignoring me once you went to Chicago for a few months to film that movie you were excited to be in.” Gojo just stood there looking at you. He can see the hurt on your face. He noticed he hasn’t been a good husband to you but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

“That’s not–I always call you and text you when I am there.” He walked over to the bed and sat down next to you.

You shake your head and move away from him on the bed. “G, you just love lying huh?” For once you wanted him to be honest with you.

He said, pretending to act dumb. “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You scoff. “Don’t be stupid now. You come home drunk all the time. You barely touch me and kiss me anymore. It’s like you are allergic to me.”

“What? I don’t–” You interrupted him before he responded to you. “I AM YOUR WIFE! I am not some fucking random bitch you come home to every so often!”

Gojo's stunning eyes widened in surprise. He never saw you lose your temper like that with him ever. When you and him have a disagreement he always sees you stay calm and humble.

Your heart was racing. You were unable to think at all. You felt your head begin to pound, noticing a slight headache coming along as well.

“Honey I–” He paused when you got up off the bed taking a step straight to the closet. “I–I didn’t know you felt this way.” He mumbles.

You open the closet door and place the dress on a hanger. “How could you? You are too busy being Mr.Hollywood star getting drunk all the time and accompanying a few women.”

The loneliness was starting to creep up on you again. You have felt like this for the last two years and a half.

“Y/N, I would never cheat on you.” He said, honestly.

You placed the dress back in the closet and closed the door. “Well, it seems like your co-star Julia had other ideas for the blogs to know.”

Gojo was confused because he had no idea what you were talking about. He took his phone out of his pocket when he realized the time he had to be at the event.

“Huh? She wouldn’t–” He stopped talking when his phone was buzzing like crazy. He stared at the screen seeing notifications from his friends asking where he was. He clicked on his messages and ignored the ones above.

Gojo doesn’t always check his emails, text messages sometimes because he is a busy man. He kept scrolling and scrolling through his phone when he finally realized a bunch of headlines about him and his co-star Julia for the last few months.

Gojo Satoru spotted out with his co-star Julia at a restaurant

Gojo Satoru seen getting cozy with his co-star Julia on set of their new movie The Angel Above

Gojo Satoru seen drunk with some friends and his co-star Julia

“Where is his wife?” One comment on the article says.

How did he let this get too far?

How has he not seen all of these different headlines in a matter of months?

He turned his phone off as he met your gaze. “Honey, I am sorry.” You let out a fake chuckle while grabbing a pillow and a blanket off the bed. “Too late for sorry. I’ll be sleeping somewhere else when you get back.”

You walked out of the bedroom as Gojo quickly followed behind you. “Wait! Are you leaving me?” You opened the door to the guest room and turned around staring at him. “Have a good night G.”

The door slammed shut before Gojo could get a word out. He stared at the door feeling a tear roll down his cheeks. “Fuck!” Worried that his marriage would fail, he struck the wall with his hand as he went downstairs and out of the house.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #gojo x y/n

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justcallmesakira · 4 months

Note

hihihihi AUGH i love ur work sm?!! omg if u can fyodor with a younger sister (she has the same level of intelligence of him and works in the doa and his organaization) who is dating dazai? :) I know there are some but i need crack and suggestive!!1

ty and er bye good luck take ur time!

"Fyodor with a sister dating Dazai''

Sypnosis: Your rat brother is anything but happy about the fact that you are dating his only enemy on earth! Good luck on surviving!!!

Genre: crack, suggestive at the end

Warnings: bombing, terrorizz, , mentions of maniupulative behaviour, mentions of verlaine, roblox radgoll, loads of simping words, me being down bad, making out (lol), your mom

A/N: my reqs are currently closed but ehhhh who cares lol also THIS WAS SO HARD TO WRITE HONESTLY- pls enjoy and reblog i tried my best--- *dies of mental ilness*

How bro-

JUST HOW DID U DO THAT W/O HIM BLASTING DAZAIS INTERNAL ORGANS? 🤯🤯🤯

No bcs fyodor did not even plan to let u meet dazai but ofcourse bcs of the dead apple tower and stuff and since then he had completly fallen inlove with you whether you are dostoevskys sister or not

He prob asked u to do a waltz with him in the mukokukokurokito or whatver the phuck that towers name was when you entered the castle with your brother

Fyodor WAS NOT happy because he saw the flirty glint in dazais eyes when u came

If looks cold kill-.. (KILL ME, RUSSIAN ZADD😍😍---)

And all you went was giggles and flirting back

Fyodor is prob gonna get his own medicine bcs they two are so like each other??? but he still couldnt believe how you with such high intelligence could fall for him???

(fyodor take your anemic medication first)

Dazai obv had some skeptics after you but like the manwhore he is and prob slept with the entierty of yokohama! ofc hes gonna court you as if you might not just use him!!!

Very (not) normal behaviour indeed!!

HELP YOU KNOW THAT ONE INDIAN RIZZLER VS. UWU CAT??? HES LITERLY THAT BUT

Dazai: "I fucked your sister she be screaming high pitch😈" fyodor: "What did you say, you little child i will crush your skull 😡😡😡should have known when i smile, I also play cello, i can be anything Уву"

that was UWU in russian btw-

But in all serious he will try maniupultaing you or gaslighting you into leaving dazai, he cant leave his only family to a man he does not trust! fyodor doesnt even trust himself-

fyodors gonna act a bit more colder then usual bcs of the fact HIS sister is dating someone and that someone is his enemy

Honeslty you go up to say chuuya whos like "why do i get deja vu-" *flashback to verlaine* you: "First time?"

But ofc since you are also extremely smart you somehow convinced him (after playing roblox radgoll with him for 8 hours) to let you atleast join date with dazai

I bet you rizzed up dazai by "He said his favourite colour was blue, so i blew him up😍💣"

*insert proud brother noises*

He speaks in russian or any slavic language whenever you three are in a gathering to mostly embarress dazai

I have seen some hcs on dazai being a collarbone biter so if you were off shoulder shirts and fyodor sees them by chance hes going to glare at you as if you are covered in mud :33

"Sister,,,what. is. that." *nasty side eye to the love bite on your neck*

Dazai 100% one time randomly pulled you into the alley and started aggresively making out with you with his hands literly sprawling all over your body like hes daddy long legs or sth-

Bcs HE KNEW that fyodor had cctv set in that part of the city and fyodor would be raging at the fact that the sluttiest man is touching his precious sister like that

bros gonna forgot abt human rights- oh wait hes russian

IF HE EVER CATCHES YOU TWO THO--

Like making out on some bed or sth hes actually no LIKE ACTUALLY GOING TO throw a whole ass cabinet at dazai with a face full of nothing but malice-

"How dare, an inhuman animal like you touch my very sister" "BRO CHILL I AM YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW--"

And your just trying to stop your brother from commiting murder even though that his hobby ^^

fyodor finally forgot he had anemia bcs now all his focus was to give dazai the most painful death know to the medieval period\

Good luck on stoping your brother from poking a fork in your lovers eye in family dinners!!

A/N: guys ik i am doing the valentines req pls be patient i am trying my best!! i have a relly bad mental health rn so yeahhh-

Divider crds!: @cafekitsune

tags! @silverbladexyz @biscuits-lovely-corner @riiwrites @heartsfourdazai @tojifile @atsquie @atlasnessie @chuuyasboner @yosanosboner @ruanais @darling--angst

#bungou stray dogs #sakira!#bsd #bsd x reader #dazai #dazai x reader #crack #bsd stuff #bsd hcs #fyozai x reader #fyodor x reader x dazai #fyodor with a sister #fyodor x sister reader #dazai fyodors sister #enemies and lovers #overprotective brothers #sakiras writing notebook!!!

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eternalbuckley · 6 months

Text

We could have had it all. — rafe cameron

SUMMARY: Rafe and you used to hook up with each other until you broke it off. Now he wants to get your attention back.

word count: 1,854

genre: angst | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings: mention of sexual content (no smut), use of petname (baby), strong language, alcohol consumption, crying, emotional talk, use of Y/N one time, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if i forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: I've been thinking about a long time to finally write for Rafe and here it finally is!! It's my first full fic in months but hopefully you can enjoy it!! Happy reading 🫶

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

navigation | masterlist | taglist

Doing anything possible to distract yourself from reaching out to him got harder every passing day since things broke off between you. It‘s not like you were together or something. You couldn’t keep doing this 'we-are-people-who-like-each-other-and-occasionally-have-sex-with-each-other-but-are-not-in-a-relationship-or-friends' thing that you had going on with the infamous Rafe Cameron. It was draining you and your mental health. Sure, it was fun and good times with him. You would never lie but the thing that made this even more complicated were your feelings for him. You didn’t plan on falling for him but in the end, the heart wants what it wants. He made it hard for you to resist falling for him.

Rafe was not the perfect person to fall in love with. He never talked about feelings or showed them in public. But there were a very few small moments that showed him in his more vulnerable and caring side. There were moments when Rafe would snuggle up to you after having sex with you. His soft sighs made it more special for both of you. Rafe loved these moments. Including the moments where you two would just lay in bed without having sex. Just cuddling, him stroking your back and telling you about one of his more recent accomplishments he was proud of. Were he would crack jokes with you and tell you how comfortable he feels. He just would never admit that he loves these moments though. But you tried to hate these moments especially because the next day he would act like nothing of that ever happened. But you couldn’t.

If you two were in places with others he would barely look at you nor talk to you. Unless he was feeling horny and needed you. Rafe would find a good moment to catch up with you when nobody would pay attention and whisper things into your ear to get you worked up. ‘Ready to get out of here, baby? Can’t wait to leave you screaming underneath me.’ All until you would be whimpering and practically begging him to drag you into the next bathroom or any possible spot to hook up. Afterwards? You didn't exist to him. But you couldn’t keep doing this. Being treated like this was not what you wanted no matter how much you liked Rafe. It took you many tries to finally tell him you don’t want this anymore.

It was after one of your occasional meetings to sleep with each other. He was lying next to you in his bed, catching his breath and looking at the ceiling instead of you. After you caught your breath, you made the decision to end it.

“What are you doing?” Rafe eventually looked at you and watched you getting up to gather your scarred clothing.

You put on your underwear and looked at him while taking your shirt. “What does it look like, Rafe?” you put on your shirt, “I’m putting on my clothes.”

He was confused and sat up. The blanket slightly moved and exposed his stomach, “Why?”

“I’m leaving.”

Rafe nodded his head and leaned back against his bed. “When will we see each other the next time then?”

“This was the last time. There won’t be a next one. This thing here,” you pointed between you, “This is over.”

“Sure. As if you wouldn’t fold the next time when I whisper all those things I’d do with you. I know your body too well by now,” he chuckled which made you roll your eyes.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

That was all you told him before you left and never came back. And it was the last time you had sex. Since then, it had been almost two months but it was still hard to ignore him whenever you saw him. Whenever you did, you immediately turned around and went the other way to get out of his way. It’s not like he would give you attention anyway. But little did you know that it drove him crazy that you ignored him. Especially tonight.

There was a party again and you looked absolutely breathtaking. All night he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Most of the time Rafe completely ignored his friends talking and only had his eyes on you. He wanted and needed you but couldn’t have you. But seeing you talking and seemingly flirting with another guy made him go feral. Rafe’s jaw was tensed up and he was gritting his teeth. He was trying to control himself but seeing you happy with another guy and all giggly made him want to beat up that other guy. He knew you were tipsy and close to making out with that guy since your and his hands were all over each other already. But he wanted to be the one you were touching like that. He wanted to be one who makes you laugh and smile like that. He was desperate. For you.

Rafe took his last sip out of his alcohol-filled cup and threw it away. He made his way over to you and harshly shoved away that guy from you. He fell to the ground and let out a muffled ‘what the fuck man’.

“Take your hands off her, asshole,” Rafe spat down on that guy. Not caring at all that this drew all the attention of the party to the three of you. He was in a rage and jealous.

You stood behind Rafe and looked at his back. You were shocked by the sudden action from his side.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?!” The other guy stood up, not knowing what he was getting himself into. You wanted to stop him but you couldn’t move.

Rafe was fuming, “You’re my problem. Get the fuck away from here or you’ll meet my fist,” he raised his voice. Rafe’s nose was flared.

“What are they? Your partner or what?”

Suddenly you became very aware of the attention you all had on you. You looked around and saw a few people whispering while watching the scene that was going on in front of you. You slightly put your hand on Rafe’s arm which startled him for a second but you noticed that he eventually slightly relaxed to your touch.

“Rafe come on,” you insisted and tried pulling him away from the guy you were talking to and the attention of everyone else.

Rafe’s eyes were still locked on the guy while you were pulling him away. You ended up on a more private part of the beach. Once you made sure you were out of sight you angrily shoved Rafe.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” you shouted, “Why would you do that, Rafe?”

He looked at you, not exactly knowing how to explain why he did it. Simply because he had no good explanation at all. He just did it out of instinct as if he had to do it even though nothing was going on between you anymore.

“You had no right to do that!”

You were angry. Angry at him. It was the first time he truly saw you being angry with him and he wasn’t sure if he should have done it now. All he wanted was your attention.

“I… I’m..” he stuttered, “I’m not sure.” Rafe held his arms in front of you, trying to calm you down.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, “Sure. Why would the Rafe Cameron have an explanation for why he wants to control every single person around him even if they want to be left alone. Ever the guy who threatens everyone.”

Rafe sighed and closed his eyes while moving his palms over his eyes. You knew what it meant when he did it. He was shaking and overwhelmed by the sudden burst of feelings. He didn’t know what to do. He never cared about anyone that much until he met you. Everyone knew he wasn’t the guy for emotions but he felt calm and more happy around you. The moment he first realized what he truly felt about you he started pushing you away. Rafe was afraid of the feelings he held for you. He was never in love, nor did he know how it felt to be loved except by his little sister.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did.”

“Don’t,” you shook your head. You didn’t want to believe him. You were tired of the games he played with you. “I know you aren’t, Rafe.”

“Listen to me, Y/N,” his voice cracked as he looked up at you. “I am sorry. I.. I know it’s wrong what I’m doing to others most of the time. I just lose control in m..moments like that and I don’t know what happens. Y..you know? I’m trying. I’m trying to be better...For you. I want to be with you,” his voice was trembling and tears were in his eyes. He covered them with his hands again.

You didn’t know what to say and just stared at him. The sudden talk about his feelings was overwhelming for you. You didn’t know he would be able to talk about his emotions at all. It was quiet between you for a moment.

You sighed and shook your head, “As much as I want to believe you, Rafe. I can’t. Not after the way you treated me.”

“I understand.”

Tears were building up in your eyes now. “No. I don’t think you do, Rafe! I felt miserable. You never dared to give me attention whenever we were in the same room unless you needed me for your needs,” you argued. “You just want me back because you don't have my attention anymore. You loved that I gave myself up to you whenever you wanted it, Rafe. But you never cared about me or what I wanted. I didn't exist to you until you needed someone to fuck. Even if you could have had anyone else… In the end, you always came to me because you knew I couldn't resist you. You used me. I was good enough for a quick fuck.”

“That’s not true. After all, you enjoyed our times together.”

“I never said I didn’t enjoy sleeping with you. I just didn’t enjoy the way you treated me every other time we weren’t sleeping with each other. I didn’t feel like a person around you and that’s why I ended this whole bullshit with you.”

Rafe gulped. You turned your body away from him and tried to hold back your tears even more. You didn’t want him to see you like that. This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want him to know how you truly felt. You clung on your cardigan and looked at the moon that was reflecting in the ocean.

Your voice was trembling now. "Just tell me that this was a fucking lie. That everything that happened between us was not real. That every word you said, every compliment, was a goddamn lie and you didn’t mean one single thing. Let’s just act like nothing ever happened and act like strangers again."

"I can’t," Rafe whispered which made you look at him.

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realisticfanfictions · 4 months

Text

Being Sanji's Girlfriend & Baratie's Head Waitress - Part 2.

Sanji x Waitress!Reader: Part One.

Working at Baratie wasn't without its challenges, and the fights that sprung up because of them weren't rare either. You and your boyfriend never sweated the small stuff, after all working in a high stress environment made you, well, stressed. But maybe some things can't be resolved that easily.

Tags: Sanji x Reader, Waitress!Reader, constant bickering, mostly fluff with some angst, (heavy) swearing.

A/N: I'm so glad the first one was well received! I'm pretty self-concious about my writing, but seeing everyone's hearts and reblogs has made me so happy! There's also been a ton of new people following this page, and I'm so appreciative you guys are liking my stuff enough to keep up to date with my writing <3.

Word Count is 5,427. Hope you enjoy!

"What the hell was that?" You knew that this made you look like a crazy girlfriend, dragging your significant other into the cold room and locking the door behind you. You'd gotten a few curious and slightly concerned glances from other staff, but by this point they knew better than to intervene. White fog spewed from your mouth as you spoke, giving you the appearance of a mighty dragon ready to burn down anyone who stood in her way.

Sanji, who hadn't fought you the entire way here, rubbed his face with his hand and shoved the other into his pocket. "I was just trying to be friendly." He shrugged.

A cold breeze caused you to flinch, but you refused to show any weakness. "Bullshit." You hissed and gritted your teeth, unable to fathom this man's arrogance. "I'm not dumb, Sanji-"

"And I never said you were." Both hands were now in his pockets and he finally met your gaze. He looked tired and you could tell he was chewing on the inside of his cheek - a habit you knew stemmed from his nicotine addiction. But his forced eye contact didn't last long and his gaze soon drifted to the corner of the cold room. He let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry. I can't help what I say to women-"

You held up a hand. "I don't care about you miserably failing at flirting. Well, I do care, but that's beside the point." You took a breath, counted to five and stared at your boyfriend's beautiful blue eyes. "I know that you're upset, and though I am very annoyed at you, I will say that I appreciate you telling me you're sorry."

"So it is about the-"

"Sanji." He slowly closed his mouth and subtly nodded. He was listening. "I know that you like women, and that you'll move heaven and earth for one to glance your way. I know that. I knew that when I started going out with you." You licked your suddenly dry lips. "What I get upset about, is that you went over my head and spoke to my customers in a rather vulgar way. I know you think it's beneath you, but I take a lot of pride in what I do. I'm good at it. And when-" God, your lips were so dry. "And when you go over my head, take over my table, insult the place that took me in when I had nowhere else to go-when we had nowhere else to go, and then ignore my discomfort and make a joke of it?" You met his eyes. "I am your girlfriend, Sanji. Something that you're meant to love and cherish- like how- I can't-"

Before you realised it, you found yourself slowly enveloped by the love of your life. "Hey," He shushed you gently as he cradled you against his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way." He murmured and placed a kiss against your temple. "My love, you're shaking. I didn't realise I made you this upset. Please, forgive me."

You couldn't help but laugh. "I'm just cold, dumbass. And still pissed at you." Despite what you said, you still buried your head in his chest and soaked up his warmth. It was then you realised how long it'd been since the two of you had been alone like this. Just soaking up each other's warmth and committing the other's smell, touch and the feel of their skin to memory. You're embarrassed to admit you forgot just how much you love his cologne. "Guess this is what happens when we don't have sex for a while."

He gave a breathy chuckle and leaned back enough just to press his lips against your forehead and stare into your eyes. "Well, I'd offer to remedy that, but I'm afraid the cold will affect my performance."

"Like you need an excuse for a bad performance."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

His usual, charming smile stretched across his face and he licked his lips, before hungrily diving in and punishing you with a particularly brutal kiss. He softly moaned into the kiss, and pulled back enough for you to see the devilish look in his eye as he bent down to press a kiss to your neck.

The door suddenly flung open and Pattie groaned. "I should've known." He exclaimed and threw his towel at the both of you. "Move. I'm trying to get some stuff for dessert."

Sanji grew a wicked grin. "What a coincidence. I'm trying to get me some dessert too." He chuckled and moved in to continue his assault, but was thwarted by an incoming barrage of hits from the disgruntled chef.

Backed by the sound of Pattie yelling in disgust, you laughed and shook your head, worming out of Sanji's hold and skipping out of the cold room with said blond on your heels. You both quickly ducked out of the kitchen and into a small hallway where you turned around to look at him once more. "Thank you for listening to me, Sanji. I may have blown my lid a bit too much back there." You fished around in your pocket and pulled out your lighter. "Go take a smoke break."

"Darling-"

You pushed it into his hand. "Take a break, and have a smoke. If not for you, for me. Because I honestly can't handle you when you're being all bitchy."

His shoulders dropped and a tired smile replaced his worried expression. He wrapped his hands around your own and placed a kiss against your knuckles. "Thank you, my love." He exclaimed and you waved him off with a smile.

"Whatever, you wallowing wag. While you're walking, watch the weather and water, and warn the workers if we're wayward. We don't want any wild winds, or another wreck this week."

He smiled. "You still don't realise you do that, do you?"

You blinked. "Do what?"

A hearty chuckle escapes him and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it." That damn smile of his made your heart flutter and while you were confused, you returned his kiss with a quick peak of his lips and watched as he walked off. You didn't understand why he was so weird, but you guess it's just part of dating someone.

Before you could go back to serving, a faintly familiar face poked his head around the corner. You squinted your eyes and watched as he walked around aimlessly. "Excuse me, are you lost?"

The boy in the straw hat turned his head in your direction and smiled when he noticed you. "Oh! You're (Y/N), our waitress!" He spun himself around and hastily walked up to you, almost tripping on the aging floorboards. "I didn't get to introduce myself," He tipped his hat. "My name is Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be King of the Pirates!"

That made you pause. "Oh." You dumbly said, not really sure how to respond. "That's... nice. But this is a staff only area-"

"You're a good fighter." The boy- Luffy you corrected yourself, interrupted and leaned in uncomfortably close. "Well, Sanji's a really good fighter, but you're pretty good too!" He made a pistol with his fingers and pretended to shoot. "You seem good with a gun. And the way you backed up Sanji and knocked that guy out? So good!"

Again, you weren't really sure how to respond. "I was only helping out, but thanks, I guess." You put your hands on your hips. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He tilted his head in confusion. "No, I'm fine."

You blinked. "But you're in a staff only area."

He nodded. "I am."

"...And you know you're not a staff member?"

He shook his head. "I'm not."

You sighed and squeezed the bridge of your nose. "I mean, why are you here?"

A smile returned to his face. "Oh, why didn't you just say so!" He waved his hand around as if announcing something great. His eyes wandered around the room, as if searching for something in the distance. You were intrigued. "I'm trying to find..."

You leaned in. "You're trying to find...?"

"Yes, I am trying to find..." His eyes slowly drifted downward until they met yours. They sparkled with great mysteries waiting to be unveiled, a sense of adventure and bravery and fearlessness that you couldn't help but admire. He smiled. "A toilet!"

Before you could stop yourself, you smacked him upside the head. "Don't pretend like it's some big, life-altering explanation, you dumbass!" With each word, you brought your hand down to slap him on any part of his body you could touch. "Besides, there's three signs for the bathroom on the way here!"

He held up his hands, trying to block your attacks. "Ow! I'm sorry! Stop hitting me!"

You rolled your eyes and stepped back, crossing your arms and glaring at him. "You're such an idiot. Fine, come with me. You can use the staff bathroom, it's right down this hall."

Luffy slowly uncurled himself and nodded. "Thanks a lot! I was sure I was going to crap my pants, you're a life saver!"

"I didn't need to know that." You sighed and beckoned him to follow with a finger. "So, King of the Pirates, huh?"

He nodded, his straw hat bobbing with him as you both walked. "Yep! We have a map to the Grand Line, and we're going to find the One Piece."

You laughed. "Only idiots with a death wish go after that thing."

"Hm, not really. I don't have a death wish." He replied with a shrug.

With a dramatic sigh, you playfully shove him. "Sure you don't, straw boy. What's next? You're gonna tell me you don't plunder and raid villages wherever you go?"

He shook his head. "We don't."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Don't yet?"

He shook his head again. "No."

"Fine then, where are you going to get money?"

"Finding the One Piece will give us all the money we'll ever need."

"And until then?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure something out."

You scoffed. "They always say that."

He tilted his head. "Do you know?"

"I do. You can kidnap a princess and random her, rob an orphanage, maybe even take a business hostage and demand money or you'll start executing patrons."

Luffy stopped and stared at you. "That's really dark."

You shrugged and continued walking. "That's what you have to do if you want to find a crazy man's last fuck-you to the government."

His smile turned into a frown. "You don't think it's real?"

"I think that Gold Rodger wanted to bring about the age of pirates, and he did." You explained. "Doesn't matter if it's real or not. Its impact on the world is more valuable than any treasure he ever got his hands on."

Within a second, he was in front of you with a cheeky grin. "Ah ha! So you do think it's real!"

A sigh escaped you. "I honestly don't care enough to believe if it's real or not. What is real is the pain, and death it's caused. Nations tearing each other and themselves apart just to find a glimpse of a shred of evidence that horrid thing is real. And men setting sail and abandoning everything just because they think finding a gold chest is worth losing their family over. Then those same men kill other men with families just like theirs, spreading their filth and disease to every home, town and village just because they can't stand the thought of a man doing the right thing by taking care of his family."

Luffy tilted his head. "You sound like you care a lot."

A tense silence filled the air and you stared at this strange, but oddly charming character. So innocent, so naive. He had no idea of the world you knew, the one that you grew up in. It's rare to find someone this optimistic, or sheltered. You pointed behind him. "Bathroom's there. Leave when you're done."

To say that you were affected by his words would've been both an understatement, and a poor choice of phrasing. You weren't affected, per say. They rubbed you the wrong way, and brought up memories you would rather just forget. It didn't help that they ordered one of everything on the menu, and you were constantly bringing out dishes to a smiling, unbothered Luffy who just shoveled food into his mouth. It was actually really impressive, and you were glad that they didn't come last week when the Baratie did that eating competition. You're pretty sure you probably would've gone out of business.

With a perfectly manufactured smile, you set down the plate of ribs on the only available space between piles of plates and stacked glasses. "And this is the final dish - our limited-time French-Style Ribs braised in red wine and cranberry." You straightened up and the plate was instantly pulled towards the centre of the table. The man in the pirate attire groaned, but he shoved a rib in his mouth and moaned. "I hope everything's been to your satisfaction. Can I get anything else for you tonight? A refill perhaps?"

The orange-haired woman smiled. "We're fine for now, thanks." With a nod, you turned to leave. "When does the bar close?"

"It's open all night, but we do a deep clean around three to four in the morning. So you may not be able to get anything on tap, but prepackaged drinks are always available." The words flowed off your tongue like a rehearsed speech, probably because it was. She smiled and nodded her thanks, before turning back to the conversation they were in. As you walked away, you spotted a certain red-haired pig-tail wearing waitress near the till. "Macy."

Said waitress flinched and slowly turned to you. "Yes, Ma'am?"

More than a little annoyed, you walked up to her and lent against the counter. "Why are you at the till?" She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying and failing to start a proper sentence until you stopped her with a hand. "Macy, there was one rule; don't touch the till. What are you doing right now?"

She paused. "Touching the till?"

You nodded. "Good job, you got something right." With a small glare, you pushed past her and looked at the total that she was charging, then compared it to the bill laying on the countertop. "Unless they've agreed to add a ฿65 tip on top of your 10%, I guess we've just found out who's been messing with the till."

"I-"

"You're done for the night." Her shocked expression turned into a bitter snarl and she began to tug at her apron. "Macy, you've got the body of a used fucking tube of toothpaste. No one wants to see you undress here, get the fuck out. You'll make the customers sick." She gasped, but you dismissed her with a wave and she stormed out of the restaurant. You sighed and opened the drawer beneath the counter, pulling out the book of paid receipts and bookings. Both luckily and unluckily, it was getting close to end-of-shift which meant that you had time to fix Macy's mess, but that the mess was probably smeared dog shit on a window at this point.

Grabbing out your pen and a calculator, you mentally prepared yourself for the long night ahead, when you felt something touch your back. "Hello, my darling." Sanji greeted with a kiss to the back of your neck, then rested his chin on your shoulder to watch what you were doing while his hand lazily stroked your side.

With a sigh, you turned your head to kiss him. "Hey, jerkface. Glad to see someone with a shred of intelligence." You greeted, then scribbled down some notes. "Someone's fucked the till again, and screwed the customers' out of at least three-hundred berri from what I can see."

His smile dropped and he reached for the book, tilting it so that he can see it. "Closer to five-hundred than anything. This table didn't even order the Lobster Thermidor, what the hell's going on."

You slammed your pen down in frustration and leaned back against him. "No idea, but I'm going to have to make some calls and refund tables." He wrapped his arm around your stomach and kissed the back of your ear which made you sigh and rub your face. "I need to make a list and figure out how much we fucked people out of money." You happened to look over at Luffy's table. They looked like they were toasting. "Can you bill them? It'd help a lot."

He smiled and took the piece of paper you had offered him. "Of course, my love. And give me a list of the rich pricks you want me to call. We'll divide and conquer."

"What did I do to deserve you?" You asked as he picked up the golden dish used to store cash.

"You, my love, didn't need to do anything." He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then your lips, before turning around and walking over to do as you asked.

Turning back to your mammoth task, now with a smile, you picked up your pen again and started to scribble down the sum total of every receipt that was put in by Macy. It was a good call by Zeff to bar everyone else but yourself from accessing the till. It was pretty easy to differentiate your neat and straightforward ones from Macy's abominations, but it still didn't make it any less painful. The Baratie didn't even serve quiches, so why would she even put that in there?

The telltale sound of Sanji's shoes smacking against the floorboards broke your concentration, and you looked up confused. "That was fast-" You were interrupted by him flashing you what was on the bill. You frowned at his abrupt interruption, but then squinted and jolted back slightly to look at your boyfriend. "What the shit is a 'treasure tab'?"

"We're going to find out." He said with a smile and walked past you to the kitchen. This was going to be interesting.

Just as you thought, the kitchen door slammed open and Zeff's wide, intimating frame appeared in the doorway. "Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Luffy, sweet and innocent Luffy, popped his head out of his booth and waved his milkshake. "Here!" Zeff locked onto him and marched toward the young boy.

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house," You and Sanji, who had just come out of the kitchen, exchanged knowing glances and you placed down your pen. Led by your boyfriend, you grabbed a jug of water while he grabbed a tray of complimentary scones and he slowly walked around the scene that was unfolding. "But Baratie doesn't offer credit. You eat, you pay." You both stopped at a nearby empty table. You started to examine the glasses in detail, admiring the way the light hit the material, while Sanji wiped the table with a piece of lettuce someone forgot to clean up.

Setting down his glass, Luffy looked up at Zeff. "I think you're confused." Sanji and you shared a look. "The meal has already been paid for. I just haven't given you the money yet."

Pretending to look around the room, you caught the stern, no-shits-given look Zeff was offering the kid. "Yeah, and how's that?"

Luffy smiled. "You can add it to my treasure tab."

You and Sanji snickered at the tone in Zeff's voice. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

"A way to get your ass beat." You mumbled and Sanji quietly shushed you with a smile, trying to hear the rest of what was being said.

Still not realising what's happening, Luffy kept talking. "I may not look like a big deal yet, but you're talking with the future King of the Pirates. And as soon as I find the One Piece, I'm gonna come back here, pay this bill in full, and with interest."

Zeff chuckled. "I got a better idea." And yanked Luffy out of his booth, dragging the confused pirate to the kitchen.

A sigh escaped you. "That certainly didn't disappoint." You commented and picked up Sanji's makeshift lettuce-rag, pocketing it to throw out later. "Guess we have a new busboy."

Sanji shook his head, but kept his eyes on the door. "Wouldn't be good at anything besides dishes." He said and paused for a second. You could see the metaphorical gears in his head turning, before he nodded toward the kitchen. "Hold on."

"Sanji, don't-" But it was too late, the love of your life had walked off, probably to rejoin the line. Your fists balled up and you let out a frustrated groan, your heels clicking as you followed after him. "Sanji! Don't piss him off. Sanji-"

The doors swung open as the blond barged in the kitchen with you on his heels. Your words fell on deaf ears and you rolled your eyes at Zeff who looked between you two confused. "Oy, oy. What do you think you're doing?"

You threw up your hands, but helped Sanji shrug off his coat. "I tried to stop him." You said as you wrapped his jacket around your arm and lent against the wall behind you.

The blond scoffed and held up a hand. "Com on, old man. Enough's enough-"

"Put the jacket back on, little Eggplant. You're not done with your shift yet." Zeff's face was tired and stern as always, and all you wanted to do was pull Sanji back and apologise for the extra stress. However, you knew that the two were stubborn and that would only cause more trouble than it's worth.

Sanji's tone suddenly sharpened. "Let me back on the line, or I walk." You almost said something, but considering you said something similar this afternoon, you settled for a glare.

"You can walk right back into the ocean for all I care. You cook another meal like that in my kitchen, it's going right where the last one did."

"You can kick me out of the kitchen all you like. I'll never be a waiter."

"Well that's fine by me, because you sure as hell are never gonna be a cook in my restaurant. Have you got that?"

Your heart broke seeing your boyfriend's face when he glanced over at you. He was so angry, and hurt, and upset. His hands were balled into fists, but you just shook your head. It wasn't worth it. His gaze shifted back to the man who had taken the both of you in, and then he turned heel, storming out of the kitchen via the hallway.

"So it was Macy, then?" When you nodded, Zeff sighed and held his face in his palm. The two of you were alone on the balcony overlooking the ocean. You were all on a thirty minute break before the next service, and you'd stumbled across the old man while trying to get some peace and quiet. The man you both admired and respected more than anyone was sat beside you tiredly rubbing his face. "And where is she now?"

You fought back what you really wanted to say, and simply shrugged, picking up your glass and taking a sip. "I sent her home for the night. Didn't want to see her fucking face, the red-haired bitch."

He shifted in his chair and leaned forward toward you, pointing a finger in your direction. "There is no talk like that in the Baratie."

You rolled your eyes and put your glass down. "It's not a big deal. Everyone here curses-"

"But you never use such vulgar language when talking about a woman." He said, his tone firm and leaving no room for arguing. "I always taught both you and that boyfriend of yours to never speak badly about, or to, a woman. Just because you're twenty-one now, doesn't mean a thing. Get that?" Ever since you were fifteen, he's drilled his way of life into your head. From scrubbing the decks every time you dropped food, to spending late nights learning the difference between the various cutlery the Baratie offered, it was almost like his life's mission to turn you into a mini-him. To this day, you couldn't eat salad with a table fork, even though the minute difference between a salad fork and a table fork were so inconsequential they were practically the same fucking thing.

You bit the inside of your lip. "Well that bitch-"

"Macy."

The condensation floating slowly down your glass seemed to be more interesting than his face. "Macy has ruined all the work I've done to make the Baratie a place where you can just sit down and enjoy a good meal with the best service around. You know, I've had to deal with so much shit. More than anyone in this goddamn place. All the harassment explained away as jokes and if I'm uncomfortable with it, I'm just 'not getting the joke'. And then having to spend hours listening to the most intolerable stories about slick, rich pricks with small dicks bitching about their toxic chicks with plastic tits. And expecting me to not spit or get sick when they talk about me like I'm some quick flick." You took a breath, counted to five, and licked your lips. "But it's not enough that she'll get away with it. You also won't let me complain about her."

He sighed. "She isn't going to get away with it." You scoffed and raised your glass to take another sip, but a hand under your chin guided your gaze to him. "Look at me." Hesitantly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. "She," He spoke slowly, his intense blue eyes piercing into mine in a way that made you feel small. "Is going to be dealt with." His hand released your chin and migrated upwards to rest atop your head, softly patting your head like he used to when you were younger. "You've done well, little Sprout." You sucked in a breath and nodded, but your pseudo-confidence wasn't fooling the old man. "And if any of these 'rich pricks with small dicks' ever bothers you again, tell me. Nothing is worth you being treated like a sack of shit over. Not the Baratie, not anything."

A fake chuckle wormed its way out of you, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Thanks, Dad."

A smile spread across his face and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in and pressing his lips to your forehead. Zeff smelled like a thousand scents, oregano, paprika, and a dash of vanilla extract, but his warm touch and the feeling of his scruffy beard against your scalp only felt like one thing: safe. You hadn't realised you closed your eyes until you felt him pull away. "Now then, I've got some calls to make."

With a groan, he got up to his feet. "Are you sure? My waitress, my mistake."

He shook his head. "My Baratie, my mistake." He walked past, patting you on the head as he left the balcony.

It was time to face your boyfriend, and you were dreading it. With his coat jacket wrapped over your arm, you slowly made your way down the hall to the kitchen. The doors were swinging slightly, so you knew that someone had just walked in, and you took a deep breath, walking over to the entrance - ready to go in.

"...banned from the line." You paused when you heard Sanji's voice float through the air.

"But that meal you cooked was incredible!"

A smile graced your face and you lent against the wall just beside the doors. "The True Bluefin Sauté?"

"Yeah!"

"You tried it?"

"Yeah, of course I did! I couldn't help myself. I didn't think the food here could get any better. You know, you're a really good cook. Why is Zeff making you wait tables?"

"'Cause he's jealous. I should be running this place, but the old man's so stubborn it'll never happen."

"So, that's your dream. To be head chef of the Baratie."

A pause. "I guess-"

"No, it's not." Both men looked up at you when you entered the double doors.

The other voice who you now realised was Luffy looked at you confused. "It's not?"

Sanji laughed breathlessly and looked at the table he was sitting at, flicking open his lighter and closing it again. "It's not." He confirmed. You smiled and walked over to where your boyfriend sat, draping his coat over an empty chair.

"So you love to cook. You just don't want to cook here?"

The blond grabbed out a cigarette and looked to you where you had taken up residence next to him. When you nodded, he ignited the lighter you gave him earlier and lit the end of his cigarette. He took a drag and hummed. "There's... this place," He started and his eyes drifted to yours. You both shared a small smile. "Where you can find ingredients from all four seas. East Blue, West Blue, North and South - they call it the All Blue. Nobody knows where it is, but..." His gaze lifts heavenward. "There's fish there that have never been seen. You know, rare seaweeds, spices that have never been tasted. It's a cook's paradise, and I'm gonna find it one day." He looked back at you and placed his hand over yours. "That's my dream."

Luffy's gaze was soft, but also intense. "If you want to cook, you should cook. Don't let some stubborn old man stand in the way of your dream." He smiled. "Stand up to him! Tell him what you want."

"It's more..." Sanji looked over at you. "Complicated, than that."

The young boy shrugged. "I don't really do complicated either."

You scoffed. "For someone who claims to be a pirate, you don't like a lot of things that pirates are known for."

Luffy looked at you. "For someone who doesn't like pirates, you sure do act like one."

Before you could say anything, frantic banging on the staff exit caught you all off guard. Begging for help, a man tumbled in and fell to the floor, barely having the strength to cling onto the countertop. On instinct, you went to pull out your gun but stopped when your boyfriend raised a hand to you and marched toward the man. Being the good Samaritan you certainly weren't, Sanji and Luffy helped him up onto a chair. "Are you okay?"

The man's voice sounded croaky and scratchy. "I'm so hungry, please."

Sanji nodded and moved to the stove. "Okay, you got it, man. How does some corned-beef fried rice sound?"

Pattie, appearing from his break, quickly stood up and followed after him. "What do you think you're doing?" He demanded.

The blond didn't bother to look at him and you gave the pirate a warning look before moving to the fridge. "At Baratie, everyone eats." The love of your life explained as you rifled through the fridge for the ingredients he would need.

"And who's gonna pay for that? This is a business, we can't be giving handouts to every down-on-his-luck pirate that washes up."

"If a man is hungry, I feed him. Thank you, darling." He said when you handed him the beef.

Pattie looked at you for help, then back at him when you just shrugged. "Zeff kicked you off the line."

"Yeah, well, I don't see the old man here. Do you?"

The other chef looked at you once more, and you shrugged at him again. You both knew it was a losing battle, and so he waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, your funeral."

You couldn't keep your eyes off the strange pirate while he sat and ate, and explained what had happened to him. Sanji was way too nice a person for people like him to deserve. You knew pirates, and a part of you was tempted to hide the silverware.

"He's a good guy." Luffy, who was slowly becoming less and less of a pirate in your eyes, said and you nodded.

"Sanji's brilliant." The words came easily. "He's the kind of guy that only comes once a generation. He's a dumbass, sure, but he's a good dumbass."

He thought for a second, before turning to Sanji. "You know, if Zeff doesn't appreciate you, you should join my crew."

Your chair scraped as you stood and left the room.

A/N: I am genuinely loving writing this! As said above, I normally tend to leave the reader's backstory and personality ambiguous, but this character has just taken on a personality of her own! This one is a bit longer because I felt like there wasn't enough content in this upload to justify it. I wouldn't want to waste everyone's time with like, two conversations. I'm kinda happier with the longer/more in-depth parts because I get to spend more time building up characters and relationships, and I'm less tempted to accidentally write and spoil things that the OPLA fans haven't seen yet.

Also, I've grappled with the ages for a while now, and I've officially decided that this AU will have Sanji and (Y/N) be 21. Normally I'd leave the reader's age ambiguous, but since age is important to this story, it's needed to be put in there.

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