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#Fraternity
celestie0 · 13 days
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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]
kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear
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ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)
ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.
ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)
ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)
ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)
a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it
nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9
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an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33
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The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.
It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 
It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.
“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.
Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”
Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.
“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.
Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.
“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”
You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.
“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”
Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”
“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 
Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”
You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.
Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”
You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 
Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.
“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”
You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.
“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.
Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”
You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.
“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”
You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 
Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”
Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.
The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.
“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.
“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”
You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”
He smiles at you.
“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”
You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.
“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 
“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.
It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.
“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”
You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”
He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”
You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 
A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?
“Yeah, show me.”
Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.
“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.
He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”
“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”
“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”
He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.
A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.
He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”
He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.
“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.
He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”
You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”
“LCD.”
“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”
“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”
He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.
He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.
“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”
“I did? Didn’t even notice.”
You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 
“Do you mind it?” he asks.
“No, not really.”
“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”
“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”
He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.
“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 
Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”
“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.
You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”
His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.
“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.
He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”
Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 
“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 
You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.
But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 
“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.
He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”
“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”
He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”
You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”
“Feelings about what?”
You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.
He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”
“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.
“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”
You sigh.
“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”
“That’s pathetic as hell.”
“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.
You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.
“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”
The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”
He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”
Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”
“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.
“Yeah.”
“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”
Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.
“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.
You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.
“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.
“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”
You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”
“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”
“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”
Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”
It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 
“No.”
He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.
“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.
“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.
“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 
He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”
You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.
You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”
“Go back where?”
“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”
He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 
“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.
“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”
“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”
“I beg your finest pardon?”
You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.
Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”
“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 
“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.
“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”
Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.
“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.
“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.
“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”
“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”
Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”
“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.
You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.
“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.
You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.
“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.
“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”
“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.
“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”
You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.
“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 
“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”
You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 
“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”
Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”
Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.
It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.
“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.
“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.
“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”
You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”
He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”
“D-Distraction?”
“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”
Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.
“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”
You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.
Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”
You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 
“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 
“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”
There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.
You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.
“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.
“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.
You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.
“Canon? Are you even listening?”
“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.
“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 
“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 
“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.
You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.
“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.
What the fuck?
Where are you?
Who are you?
Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.
There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.
Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.
“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”
Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.
“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”
You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.
The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.
“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 
“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.
“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.
You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”
“You could have a concussion.”
“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”
He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”
“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”
He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.
He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air
“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”
He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.
“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.
“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.
You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 
You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”
“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”
You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.
“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.
“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”
You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.
“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.
“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.
“You got hit by a soccer ball.”
“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.
“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.
“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 
He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”
“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 
He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.
“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”
“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.
His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.
“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”
He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.
“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”
You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”
“That’s it?”
“Mhm.”
“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 
You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”
“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”
“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”
His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.
Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.
You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.
Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.
“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”
His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.
“What the fuck was that—”
“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”
“I—”
“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”
He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.
“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.
His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”
He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.
You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 
He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”
Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.
2:34pm kaito (work): yo
2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera
2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up
2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?
2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 
2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one
2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry
2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one
2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that
2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really
2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement
2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field
2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?
You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.
“Oh, hi,” you say.
“Hey, are you free tonight?”
“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.
“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”
You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”
“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”
You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”
“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”
“We?” you ask.
“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”
Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”
Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”
Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”
“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”
You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 
“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.
“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.
You purse your lips together.
“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”
You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.
“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”
“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.
“Alright cool, will do.” 
You say bye, and then he hangs up.
A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.
Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.
“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.
“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”
You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”
He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”
You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”
“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 
“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”
Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 
You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.
“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.
“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”
“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”
He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”
Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”
Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.
“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”
Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”
Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”
“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”
You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.
You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.
You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 
Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.
Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.
“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.
“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”
Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”
Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”
“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.
“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.
Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”
“Tell me what?” you prod.
“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”
You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”
“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”
You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.
Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”
“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”
You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”
“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”
“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 
“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.
You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.
Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.
“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”
You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.
“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.
“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.
“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.
“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”
His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”
You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?
“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.
“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”
“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”
“It sounds shady as fuck.”
“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”
“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.
“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”
His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”
Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 
“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.
He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”
You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.
He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”
“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”
He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.
“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”
At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”
“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”
His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”
“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 
His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.
“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 
He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.
“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.
His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”
“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”
You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”
He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”
His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 
Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.
“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”
You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”
Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”
Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”
Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.
Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”
“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.
“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.
A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 
“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”
Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”
Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”
Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.
“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”
Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”
You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 
“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.
“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”
Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.
“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.
“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”
“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”
“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”
“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.
“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.
“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 
Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”
“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.
“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”
“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”
Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 
“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.
Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.
“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”
“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.
“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.
“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”
“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”
Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 
Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”
You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 
There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.
Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.
You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.
“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”
Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”
“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”
Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 
You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”
Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”
You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.
When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.
“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”
You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.
Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are searing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.
You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.
“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”
“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”
You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.
But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.
Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.
Strong hands wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”
Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.
“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.
“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”
You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  
“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”
You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”
His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”
Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.
“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”
You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 
His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”
Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.
You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”
He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”
“But I do.”
There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.
You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.
He just holds you closer. “I know.”
“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.
He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”
“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”
He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.
“I know.”
--
a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me 😭 and by beta read i mean left the funniest fucking comments everywhere and i will forever remember how hard i laughed 🤣 i adore u sm thank you <33 SHES ALSO A WRITER TOO GO CHECK HER OUT on ao3 she is an amazinggg writer there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!
➸ you're all caught up!
➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here
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taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog
(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)
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oliviaasks · 12 days
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Frat paddling!
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junkmixart · 1 year
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Morning Classes~ 
LINKTREE
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csuftitans · 7 months
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We would like to remind everyone that the conversations you have in the library can be heard by all in attendance. I'm trying to study for my geology quiz I do not need to hear about "How tasty them toes were."
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boyfeetmaster1 · 6 months
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these frats need their feet attended to.. who wants to be their footstool??
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redz0nez9 · 14 days
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His frat boy era.
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ffm1 · 2 months
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Frat boy feet 🦶🏼 🤤
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ex-frat-man · 1 year
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electronicsquid · 6 months
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Hofstra fraternity brothers shave their heads
(Al Fenn. 1960)
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weirdlookindog · 4 months
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Félicien Rops - Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité (Liberty, Equality, Fraternity)
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aibigbois · 30 days
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Woah, woah, woah dude slow down. As your chapter president and a senior I invited you here to see *IF* you have what it takes to move up from pledge to brother. So shut up trying to brown nose your way into the frat, thats not going to help you. Showing me you're dedicated to grow *WILL* help your case.
Here, this set of pills will get you started. Take one with each meal and one before bed. Once you have bulked up 30 pounds you'll be ready for round two. And if you can handle round two, then you're ready for round three and you'll be as big as me and the rest of the brothers.
Oh... and I almost forgot, the pills only work in conjunction with emissions from those who have completed all three rounds. So for the time being you'll be washing down your fourth pill of the day with a visit from me. The more you ingest, the bigger you'll grow. So you better work on your... skills... I don't cum easily for little guys like you. You'll have to work for it.
You said you wanted to be a brother... are you dedicated enough?
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celestie0 · 1 month
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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]
kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside
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ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)
ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.
ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot
ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)
ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)
a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha
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You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere. 
Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him. 
One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.
The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.
You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.
He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.
“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”
You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”
“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.
“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.
He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.” 
“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already. 
His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”
You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.
“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”
You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”
He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”
You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”
He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.
“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”
“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.
“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”
He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”
You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”
You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.
The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it. 
The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead. 
You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk. 
“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”
“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.
“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.
“Boo, you whore. For what class?”
“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”
“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”
“Yeah.”
“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”
“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.
“So definite no to hang out?” 
“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”
“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”
You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”
“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says. 
You glance at the time. 11:56am. 
“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.
You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.
“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”
You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.
“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”
You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.” 
She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”
You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.” 
She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”
You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”
Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”
Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest. 
“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.” 
You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.
But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings. 
“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”
Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”
You sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”
Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”
She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”
The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you. 
It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them. 
Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed. 
You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.  
“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”
You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately. 
Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.
“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible. 
You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.
There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.
Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.
“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”
“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”
Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before. 
“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks. 
“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”
There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.
“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”
“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 
Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”
“What?”
He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”
“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”
“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.
Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”
The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.
“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”
For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.
“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”
You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.” 
Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”
“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”
“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.
The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.
“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.
“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase. 
He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.
“Yeah.”
“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”
You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”
There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”
The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”
You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby. 
The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.
Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.
“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.
The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.
“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.
You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”
The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”
“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”
She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”
“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.
She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you. 
You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”
She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”
“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”
“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.
You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”
“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you. 
“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.
“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.
You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”
“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.
“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”
The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.
You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.
“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”
“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”
The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.
The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”
“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.
All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 
“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”
“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”
You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.
“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.
Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.
“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.
“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”
The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you. 
“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.
“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.
He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”
“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.
“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you. 
“Where are we going?” you ask.
“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”
Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 
Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”
He was waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.
You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.
“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.
You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.
You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.
“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”
“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”
Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”
He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”
“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 
He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.
“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.
This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long. 
“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”
He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”
“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.
He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?��� His voice was low.
“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”
He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”
Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”
“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.
“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.
He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Positive?”
“Satoru.”
“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.
You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing. 
This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before. 
“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.
“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.
“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.
You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”
“I will.” 
“I’m glad.”
“No peeping.”
“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door. 
It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously. 
When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.
“What?” you ask.
“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”
You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm. 
You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?” 
“No. I love it.”
“I’m not following.”
You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”
He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”
“Your problem,” you say.
“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.
“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”
“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.
You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.
“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.
“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.
“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.
“But I usually sleep on the left side.”
You blink at him.
“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.
“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.
Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.
“Are you su-”
“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.
He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”
The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.
He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.
“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.
“Sneak what in?” 
“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”
You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 
“Before,” is all you say to him.
He sighs. “y/n…”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.
It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.
“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”
“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.
You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”
“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”
“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.
He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”
“That’s it? That’s the reason?”
“Mhm.”
You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”
He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands? 
“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.
“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious. 
You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.
“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.
He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.
You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.
“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 
He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how. 
Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.
“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.
“It’s okay,” you whisper too.
The silence settles for longer.
He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.
“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.
“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”
You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”
“Reasons.”
“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”
He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”
You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.
“Like…guilmon from digimon?
“Mhm.”
“You like digimon?”
“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.
“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it. 
“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.
He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.
He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.
“Hey–”
“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.” 
“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.
“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”
When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters. 
“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.
“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”
“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.
“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.
You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly. 
He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”
You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.
He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.
You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.
“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.” 
You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.
“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.
It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.
You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been. 
You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.
“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”
“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”
He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”
You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”
He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”
“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.
“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”
You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.
“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly. 
“Mhm, makes sense.”
His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.
You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”
He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”
“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”
“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too. 
“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”
He nods. “You do.”
There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.
“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.
“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”
“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”
“I asked him for it.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”
“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”
There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”
You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”
He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”
“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”
“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”
“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.
You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you. 
“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”
“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.
“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”
His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 
You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.
“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”
“You’re not bad,” is all he says.
“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”
“y/n,” he says, like a warning.
“I mean it,” you whisper.
“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.
“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”
He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.
“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly. 
Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck. 
Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.
You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.
Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.
You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.
The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area. 
It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.
“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”
You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.
Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”
You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.” 
You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.
“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.
Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.
“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.
“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.
Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”
All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.
“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”
With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.
“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.
You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”
“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?” 
“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.
He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”
“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.
He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”
“When did you graduate?” you ask.
“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 
You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”
“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.
“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.
He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”
“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.
“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.
You meet his gaze. “No way.”
“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.” 
You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”
He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”
You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”
“Yup.”
“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.
“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”
You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”
He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”
You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”
The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.
“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”
“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”
“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”
“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”
He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”
You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”
He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”
Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”
He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.” 
Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”
He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”
You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.
“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”
“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.
The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.
UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.
The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.
“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.
“Went fine,” Kai responds.
“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”
Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”
Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.
“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.
You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.
There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.
“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.
“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.
He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?” 
You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him. 
And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.
When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.
“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.
He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t deny it.
“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.
He sighs. “Yes.”
“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.
“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”
You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.
“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.
“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”
“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”
He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”
“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”
“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”
“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”
“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.
“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.
He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”
“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”
He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”
There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”
He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”
“Okay.”
He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”
“Mhm. Thanks.”
He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.
The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back. 
You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear. 
You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake. 
Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.
|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera
|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way
The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.
You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.
|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there
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a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off
➸ take me to chapter nine!
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taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)
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mysharona1987 · 2 years
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Feminists and Frat Boys on the same page, for once.
American Dystopia would, of course, end up eventually in a weird buddy ‘80s cop movie.
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junkmixart · 2 years
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The 2nd Slasher Frat bros OC is Blake Matthews! A pre-med frat president who turns hazing rituals into a bloodbath.
TWITTER // INSTAGRAM
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luvyblossom · 5 months
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Love me (not) Pt. 4
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Hello Lovelies,
Here is the long awaited part 4. I've been swamped with me thesis :( (I'm still not done.) I tried to proofread it but my eyes are tired so excuse any typos. This is a spicy chapter so MDNI. As always, my requests are open and let me know what you think!
Enjoy!
W/c: 6.7k
Pairing: reader x Hyunjin, reader x Felix
Warnings: this fic contains sexual content. MDNI
Series Masterlist
content tags: smut, fluff, college!au, nonidol!au, jealousy, use of red light system, rough sex, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), alcohol,
I think that's it. let me know if I missed anything
______________
"See you tonight," Felix gave you a quick peck on the cheek before leaving you at your usual study spot.
You smiled at him and waved bye as you sat down across from Hyunjin. He rolled his eyes at you and mock-threw up. "Stop that," you playfully hit his arm.
“You’re busy tonight?” Hyunjin tried to sound casual about it. This was the fourth night in a row where you had plans with Felix. He barely has time with you nowadays except for your study sessions that Felix could no longer attend because of his taekwondo practice. It took everything within him to tolerate Felix but he didn’t want to lose what little time he did get with you.
“Yeah we’re going out for dinner,” you answered, taking out your books. Exams were coming up so you had been trying to keep up with all your work.
"What time do you think you'll get home tonight?" Hyunjin asked for purely selfish reasons. He felt reassured that you had not spent a night with Felix, always coming home alone after your dates. Not that he really cared about your sex life- he assured himself. No, he didn’t care but he didn’t like Felix and he didn’t want him touching you.
"You can't stay over," you hastily said. After every one of your dates, you had come home to Hyunjin waiting for you, ready to take his spot next to you in bed. You were grateful that Felix was not the jealous type because you often had guys who had wanted to choose between Hyunjin and them. Hyunjin always won.
“Why not?”
“Cause I may not be coming home alone tonight,” you giggled. You appreciated how sweet Felix was but you had been dating for long enough and you were starting to get impatient. Your makeout sessions were getting more and more handsy and always left you wanting more. You had the cutest lingerie picked out for tonight and you hoped that you wouldn't be left wanting more once again.
Hyunjin glared at you, his jaw tensing at your words. "Why exactly won't you be coming home alone tonight?"
"Um cause Felix might stay over," you gave a questioning look to Hyunjin.
Hyunjin willed himself to see past his rage. If he said anything it would just cause another argument between the two of you. He started packing up his stuff and got up.
"Where are you going?" You asked.
"I have to meet up with someone." He said coldly and started walking away before you could say anything.
——————
You opened your door to let Felix in. He handed you a bouquet of flowers. He’d been getting you some every week so you never had a day your vase went empty. “I’m almost ready,” you smiled at him as you picked a pair of heels to slip on.
“You look beautiful as always, Love,” he kissed you on the cheek as he held out his hand so you could walk out together. You took his hand, blushing at the nickname he had taken to calling you. Since you and Felix had officially started seeing each other, your moments with him left you nervous, heart beating fast, and trying to overcome the butterflies that erupted whenever he touched you.
Felix wore a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up perfectly displaying his forearms. You admired the veins popping from his arm as he gripped the steering wheel, following one vein down to his hands. You began to imagine how those hands would look wrapped around your neck. You shook your head to get rid of the thought. Being with Felix recently had been mostly frustrating. Here was a gorgeous man and after spending time with him and with your make-out sessions getting more and more intense, all you wanted was for him to pin you down and fuck you.
Tonight you dressed as sexy as possible. Everything was shaved and you had on the cutest black lacy lingerie under your skimpy dress. You sat across the table from Felix, once again lost in the thought of his toned arms and his fingers, the ways he could use them. You managed to get through most of your dinner joking around with Felix, allowing you some reprieve from your earlier thoughts but you hadn't forgotten about your plan.
“What’s on your mind?” Felix asked pulling you out of your daze.
You looked at him, summoning all of your confidence you said, “Nothing, just thinking about all the things you could do to me for dessert.” You gulped, trying to battle the nerves that arose from your statement as you waited for his reaction.
Felix coughed, choking on the sip he had just taken of his drink. He looked at you in awe, not used to you being so blatant. You had been very shy since the night you both watched the sunset. Felix had only been encouraged to take things even slower with you. He adored how shy you would get, only making him want you more, but he hadn't wanted to push you. This was a new side to you that he was seeing, "What's gotten into you, love?"
Instead of replying you kicked your heel off, his reaction fuelling your confidence. You traced your foot up his calf under the table, earning a surprised look from him. His look quickly turned to a smirk as he leaned across the table to whisper, "You’re being really naughty today baby. Are you sure you can take the punishment?”
You weren’t sure if it was his deep voice or his words, probably a bit of both, but it sent a chill up your spine. You could feel the heat from your core rising to your cheeks to cover them with a blush. You were grateful when Felix waved over the waiter and asked for the cheque so you could finally leave the restaurant. Your panties were already wet as you climbed into his car. Your heart was beating in anticipation as Felix drove.
The hand that he had placed on your exposed thigh was beginning to inch upwards. You were craving his touch as his fingers pressed up your thigh, giving your flesh a little squeeze. Finally, his hand reached your panties but instead of touching you where you needed him, he fluttered his fingers on the edge of your underwear. You let out an embarrassing whine asking for more.
“What is it, baby? Can’t be patient?” Felix teased. You squirmed in your seat as you continued to soak through your panties. Felix chuckled as he kept teasing, slipping one finger under your panties. “Fuck.” Felix groaned, “You’re already so wet for me.”
“Please,” you were shamelessly begging him now for some stimulation. Felix continued to trace the outside of your labia while you bucked up, trying to get more stimulation than he was willing to give.
Felix clicked his tongue when he felt your hips jerk, moving his hand away from your pussy to trace up to your chest. Your dress had been far too revealing to wear a bra so Felix was easily able to trace over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric. He pulled more moans from you when he pinched the sensitive buds. You tried to snake your hand down to provide yourself some relief but you were too slow. Felix quickly grabbed your hand, "You've already been so naughty, Love. Are you sure you want to add to your punishment?"
You gave him a pleading look to no avail. Any ounce of dignity you had disappeared as you begged the gorgeous man sitting next to you for just a single touch. Felix was kind enough to bring his fingers back to your core, letting his fingers lightly trace over your clit. He began to tease one finger at your entrance. "Felix, please."
He smirked at you, "What is it, baby?"
"I want you to fuck me." If words could make a man cum, those words would be enough for Felix to bust. He tried to keep his composure as he searched for a place he could pull over. He had wanted to wait until you both were home, but at this rate with the way your words dripped with lust, he didn't think he could last for the entire drive.
Felix located an empty parking lot and pulled the car in. You climbed onto his lap as soon as he shifts into park. Felix giggles, "You're so impatient"
Before he can let another word out, you crash your lips onto his pulling him into a deep and messy kiss. His tongue traces your lips and you give him entrance letting him deepen the kiss further. You both swallow each other's moans and you begin to grind down on his hardened length over his pants. You both gasped in harmony, finally feeling the friction you needed.
Felix's hands were all over you, feeling every curve of your body as you continued to grind down on him. He squeezed your ass before tracing over your back to resume playing with your nipples. He pushed the straps of your dress off of your shoulders, allowing the flimsy material to fall and reveal your bare breasts to him. He just stared.
"What is it?" you started to feel a bit self-conscious under his gaze.
He managed to peel his eyes away from your chest, looking up at you with lustful eyes, "You're so fucking hot."
You blushed at the comment. A moan left your lips as you felt Felix latch his puffy lips onto your nipple while pinching the other one between his fingers. You couldn't get enough of him. You started to clumsily unbutton his shirt until you reached the waistband of his pants. You took your time unbuttoning his pants and lowering the zipper. You pulled out his painfully hard cock, admiring how much precum was dripping out of him. You wrapped your fingers around him and rubbed his precum over his tip using your thumb.
'He's so tall and handsome as hell.He's so bad, but he does it so well,'
Felix groaned as he felt your fingers wrap around him. He brought his lips to your neck, nipping and kissing all the sensitive spots he's mapped on you, and brought his finger back down to your sopping pussy.
'I can see the end as it begins, my one condition is,'
You slowly began to stroke his length as you felt his finger push into you. He fucked his finger in and out of you before adding a second finger in.
'Say you'll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe.'
The car was filled with moans as you ground down on his hand, riding his fingers and feeling his palm brush against your clit. He bucked his hips, trying to fuck your hand. Between moans, you whispered in his ear, "I want to feel you inside me."
'Red lips and rosy cheeks.Say you'll see me again,'
Felix quickly pulled his fingers out of you and lined up his throbbing cock with your entrance. He slid his length along your wet folds, making you jolt as he rubbed his tip over your clit. He began to tease your entrance with his tip
'Even if it's just in your wildest dreams.'
You froze, finally taking notice of the music. You almost ignored it, but you knew your mind would wander if you didn't acknowledge it. You looked apologetically at your boyfriend, "I'm sorry baby. I just need a second."
You reached over to the passenger seat, grabbed your phone, and answered the call, knowing who it would be before you picked on account of the special ringtone you'd assigned to him. "This better be important." The words came out in a whimper as you felt Felix's tip enter you.
"Y/n?" his words slurred, giving away how drunk he was. "I was scared you wouldn't pick up," you heard his voice break as he said these words.
Worry clouded your eyes as you placed a hand on Felix's chest to signal him to stop his movement. "Hyune, what's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need me, tell me what I can do," the questions frantically spilled from your mouth. Hyunjin barely cried, there was something wrong.
"I miss you-" his sentence was cut off as you heard him gagging.
Another voice was on the line now, "It's Chris. Are you able to make it over? He's a mess, almost and he won't listen to us, he's been begging to talk to you."
"Yes. I'll be there soon." You hung up the call. Your heart which was racing because of Felix just a minute ago was now pounding in your chest as you worried about your best friend.
Felix looked at you with a fallen expression that he was trying to conceal, "where do you need to be?"
"Can you take me to Hyunjin's?" You moved back to the passenger seat when Felix nodded yes. Both of you tried to look decent and then were back on the road. You looked straight out of the windshield, nervously chewing on your fingernails. Your attention was distracted for a second as you felt Felix's hand wrap around yours and give it a reassuring squeeze.
"What's going on baby?" He asked between clenched teeth, knowing that whatever was going on was because of Hyunjin. He tried to keep his cool, always reminding himself that you were dating him and not Hyunjin. You had chosen him. But damn Hyunjin was starting to really get on his nerves. This better have been important because if his date had been ruined over a tantrum, Felix would have some choice words for him. The only thing that had held him back until now had been his respect for you and not wanting to appear too possessive and controlling.
You were too lost in your thoughts to recognize Felix's rage. "I'm not quite sure, Hyunjin is a drunk mess and he sounded so upset. Apparently, he's not listening to anyone and was asking for me. I should've noticed that something was wrong. He's been a bit distant lately and he left so abruptly. I should've asked him what was bothering him." You felt so guilty for not being there for him. He knew how to party but Hyunjin rarely let himself get wasted. And allowing himself to cry in front of others, there had to be something really wrong.
You almost shot out of your seat as you neared the familiar house. Whatever event had been going on had started to die down by the time you reached. You smiled over at Felix giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'm so lucky to have you. Thank you. I promise I'll make it up to you."
Felix's heart softened with your gaze, allowing him to momentarily calm down his anger, "Of course Love. No matter how late it is, please call me for a ride home. You can also stay over at mine if it's too late."
You gave him another smile before saying your goodbyes and rushing into the house and up the stairs. You turned the corner into the bathroom and found Han, Changbin, and Jeongin crowding at the entrance. You pushed past the familiar faces of Hyunjin's frat brothers to find him with half-closed eyes sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him and leaning against the toilet. A very concerned-looking Chris sat next to him, trying to get him to drink some water.
You squatted down in front of Hyunjin, taking one of his hands into yours, "Hyune, I'm here."
Hyunjin gazed at you through his lashes, giving you a sleepy smile. You could see where the tears had stained his face, eliciting a pang of pain deep in your stomach. You never liked to see Hyunjin upset.
He turned his hand so that he could intertwine his fingers between yours. He pulled you towards him, causing you to lose your balance and land awkwardly on his lap with your face in his chest. He held you tight against him in a big bear hug, making it difficult to move.
“Fuck.” You heard Chris curse. This was followed by 'ooohhhs' and 'you're in trouble now' by the rest of the boys who were still in the bathroom. You tried to pry your head out and see what the commotion was about. You looked up to see Chris, dripping from the water that he had been trying to coax Hyunjin to drink, likely as a result of Hyunjin pulling you. Somehow the water had avoided the both of you, landing only on Chris. You let out a giggle, enticing the rest of the room to burst into laughter as well, including Hyunjin. Chris gave him a small punch in the arm, it seemed innocent but considering his physique, you were sure it must have hurt a little.
Hyunjin let out a dramatic cry, "Owwwwww, Y/n he's hurting me."
You were relieved, happy to hear Hyunjin return to himself after the sad state you had heard him in earlier. "I think you deserved it. Now let me go."
"Never." Hyunjin let out a contented sigh, holding you even tighter as you struggled.
"You boys could help me," your voice came out muffled as your face pressed into his chest. Changbin and Jeongin fought with Hyunjin managing to help you escape from his grasp. You looked down at Hyunjin, still slumped over on the floor. “Do you feel better? Are you done throwing up?”
He nodded yes, briefly lifting his head, his face covered in a pout after your great escape. 
You turned to the boys, “Changbin help me get him up, Han and Jeongin grab him some food and water. ” You didn’t do much to help Changbin drag Hyunjin to his room. Hyunjin groaned when Changbin tossed him onto the bed, rolling over onto his side. The boys had already put a couple of slices of pizza on his side table. 
You sat down next to Hyunjin, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Hyune, get up. You should eat something and then you can get some rest.”
“I don’t wanna,” he was still pouting. 
“Okay, then I’m gonna go since you don’t need my help,” you teased. 
He reluctantly sat up, facing you and opening his mouth, expecting you to feed him. 
“You’re such a baby,” you teased him while you fed him. You handed him a water bottle after he was done. “Drink, I’m gonna get something to clean you up a bit.” Hyunjin complied and you returned with his toothbrush and a warm washcloth to wipe his face. You went into his closet, picking out some sleep clothes for him. “You need to change into PJs.”
Hyunjin just lifted his arms, “I’m too tired, I need help.” His words were still slurred. 
“You’re wearing a button down you idiot,” you said as you pushed his arms back down. You began to unbutton the black shirt he wore, giggling when Hyunjin squirmed when your light touches tickled him. Your breath hitched when you had finished unbuttoning the shirt. It had been a while since you had seen him like this. Had he been working out? He had a perfectly toned torso with washboard abs. You helped him slip off the shirt, not failing to notice his muscular arms. 
“Stop staring,” Hyunjin’s words brought you back from your daze. “Pervert!!” Hyunjin covered his chest with his arms. 
You just rolled your eyes, slipping the t-shirt over his head. “I am not changing your pants for you.” You turned around to give him some sort of privacy. You could hear the struggle as he tried to change his clothes while drunk. “Are you done? Are you okay?”
“I did it,” you turned to see Hyunjin on the floor again, now wearing his pajama bottoms and grinning proudly. You helped him back into bed, settling him under his blanket before picking up his clothes and tossing them into the hamper. You moved the garbage bin next to his bed, just in case he did feel sick.
“Are you comfy?” Hyunjins hummed contently. “Okay. Goodnight, I’ll check in on you tomorrow okay?”
Hyunjin slightly got up from his comfy position, “can’t you stay? Please stay.”
It was pretty late, and you were tired after helping him into bed. “Okay, I’ll stay, lie down I’m just gonna take a shower.” You went and grabbed yourself one of his t-shirts to change into, and a towel before going in to take a hot shower. The shirt covered more on you than your dress had so you didn’t feel the need to wear sweats. With how much heat radiated off of Hyunjin you would be sweating anyway. You climbed into bed next to Hyunjin expecting him to be asleep already. You sat up and opened up the book you’d been working your way through on your phone, not quite ready to fall asleep yet. Hyunjin felt you getting settled, he moved towards you, placing his head in your lap, and wrapping an arm around you.
“I thought you were asleep,”
“I am,” Hyunjin said with his eyes closed. You laughed, running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair. You felt Hyunjin’s hand on your exposed thigh, rubbing small circles along your leg. You could feel that familiar tingly sensation beginning to form. You grabbed his hand, hoping to stop whatever was going through your mind. You chalked it up to you being a little extra sensitive because of your unfinished business with Felix earlier in the night, choosing to move on from how Hyunjin’s hands had just sent sparks through your body. 
Hyunjin wrapped your fingers in his hand, “your hands are always so cold.” Both of you sat happily in silence as you kept reading through your book. 
“I love you,” Hyunjin interrupted the silence with his slurred words. You looked towards him, finding him looking back at you. 
You gave him a warm smile that truly came from within, his words warming you up. “I love you too Hyune.”
“You do?” He looked at you with wide eyes, looking like a kid at that moment. 
“Of course I do. You’re my best friend,”
Hyunjin settled his head back down in your lap, closing his eyes with his lips forming a small smile. “You shouldn’t love too many people, it’ll get diluted.”
“Hyune, that's not how it works. You can love lots of people, there’s not a limit.”
“It’s less special then.”
You giggled, hearing his childish tone as he tried to argue with you, “You’re very special to me. Don’t worry.”
“Okay.” He seemed happy with your answer. 
----
You woke up well before Hyunjin. Still tired from the late night, you decided to enjoy the warmth of bed a little longer, scrolling through insta on your phone. Hyunjin clung to you as usual so it wasn’t like you could move anyway and you didn’t want to wake him. You were momentarily released as Hyunjin turned, allowing you to get up and grab a glass of water and painkiller for Hyunjin before settling back into the warm covers. 
Hyunjin peaked at you through squinted eyes and groaned, “Why do I feel like shit?”
You handed Hyunjin water and the painkiller. He sat up a bit, gladly accepting it. “You were so needy last night,” you teased him. 
Hyunjin’s head snapped to look at you, “what?” He said nervously, still blurry on the details of the night before. He wasn’t sure if he had said something stupid in front of you. 
“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “I forgive you for taking me away from my date night.” You had mistaken his nervousness for guilt over his actions. You turned to look at him as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was a mess and his face was scrunched up. 
“Why are you staring at me?” Hyunjin said. 
“You are just so cute,” you pinched his cheek as he gave you a death glare. 
“I’m not cute, I’m sexy.” You just giggled at his response, reaching to pinch his cheek once again. This time he grabbed your hand before you could get to him. His other hand began to tickle you. 
“Hyunjin noooo!” you screamed between your tortured giggles.
“I’ll stop if you say Hyunjin you’re so sexy” You shook your head in refusal, unable to get words out at this point. You tried to use your free hand to tickle him back but soon lost that too. Hyunjin easily pinned both of your hands above you as he continued to tickle mercilessly. “All you have to do is say it.”
You kicked your legs, still trying to win. Finally succeeding, you knocked Hyunjin’s knee. He lost balance and his tickling hand landed beside your head as he stopped himself from falling onto you, his face just inches away from yours. You should have moved but you were frozen in place, the only thought in your mind was the way you could feel his breath fan against you. Hyunjin loosened his grasp on your hands, allowing you to free your hands but you didn’t move. You were drowning in his dark eyes as your heart thumped, loud enough that it drowned out any sound around you. 
Hyunjin was the first to move, clearing his throat and sitting up, letting go of your hands completely. You were still frozen in place, trying to get your brain to become functional again. You managed to croak out, “Breakfast?”
Hyunjin, already red-faced after getting a look at you, turned his head to look away from you, “Um-uh do you want pants?”
It was your turn to blush. The little tickle fight had left you disheveled with the t-shirt you wore riding up your stomach, exposing your very skimpy underwear. You scrambled to cover yourself, wanting to die from shame and cursing yourself for not wearing pants. “Yes please,” you squeaked out. Hyunjin quickly climbed off the bed, quickly tossing a pair of sweatpants your way before walking out of the room and closing the door to give you some privacy. You whisper-screamed into a pillow trying to figure out how you could be around Hyunjin after exposing yourself like that. After taking a couple more minutes to wallow, you slipped on the sweats and made your way downstairs to the kitchen. You were a bit relieved to not see Hyunjin there. Instead, you saw Chris working away to cook breakfast and the boys fooling around at the table. 
“Good morning,” you said as you took a seat next to Seungmin. 
“How do you want your eggs?” Chris asked from the kitchen. 
“Scrambled please.”
“How was your date?” Seungmin teased you.
“So did you two finally make it official?” Han piped up before you could say anything.
You nodded your head, a bit surprised that Han knew about you and Felix.
“Really? We thought so because Hyunjin hasn’t had anyone around in a while but we haven’t seen you either so we weren’t sure,” Jeongin added. 
“I don’t know why he’s been such an ass recently then. You gotta make him more cheerful Y/n,” Changbin added. 
The boys spoke so fast that it took you a second to process the conversation. “No, I’m dating-” you were interrupted as Hyunjin entered the room and loudly pulled out the chair at the edge of the table closest to you. “Felix” you finished after he sat down. “The date was good but cut short,” you answered Seungmin, glancing over at Hyunjin. 
Chris came in, balancing plates with food for everyone. Everyone said their thank yous and began to dig in. “We need to figure out where we’re staying this spring,” Chris said as he took a seat as well. He was referring to a spring break trip they had been planning and you’d been invited to as well. 
“Are you going to bring your boyfriend?” Han looked at you. The rest of the boys followed with ‘oohhs’ making you blush. 
“I think I will. If he’s not busy we can add him to the list.” Hyunjin choked on his food while you were talking. You patted his back hoping to ease his coughing. “How are you feeling?”
“Gross,” Hyunjin managed to croak out between coughs. 
The rest of breakfast was spent planning out more trip specifics. You headed back to your place after, needing a shower and to prepare a sorry for Felix after last night. 
----
You were greeted by Minho when you got to Felix’s. Instead of a greeting he let you in and pointed to Felix’s room. You walked in and saw Felix sitting in front of his computer with his headphones on and entranced with whatever game he was playing. Not wanting to bother him, you took a seat on his bed, putting your sorry gift on his side table. 
You were startled as you heard Felix scream. He took off his headphones and said, “When did you get here?”
“A bit ago. I brought sorry lemon squares,” you pointed to this dish on his table. 
Felix came to sit next to you in his bed, pulling you close to him, “You didn’t have to do that baby. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
“You’re sweet but I am sorry for ditching our date. Thank you for being so understanding,” you rested your head on his chest.
“There is one thing bothering me,” Felix said hesitantly.
Concern clouded your eyes as you looked at him, “what is it?”
“Did you go home all alone? Did you get a ride from someone else? You didn’t ask me for a ride and I was worried. It’s not safe for you to be walking so late at night.”
“I’m sorry. I should have texted you, I thought you were asleep already. I didn’t go home alone. It was late so I just ended up staying there. I really am sorry, I’m not that used to having people worry about me.”
Felix didn’t feel all that great about you staying the night in a frat house but he decided to hold his tongue, not wanting to sound jealous. “It’s okay baby,” Felix gave you his warm smile letting you know he meant it. “How was Hyunjin?” He asked, knowing he didn’t care about that but wanted to know what exactly had happened that would justify cutting your night short. 
“He was just drunk and upset. I think he just wanted a friend nearby. But there is something wrong. He just isn’t telling me what it is yet. Even the rest of the guys said he’s been off recently but I guess he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”
“Do you know all of those guys well?” Felix pried. 
“I’m not super close with them all. Seungmin and I are pretty good friends but I know the rest of them,” you answered. “Oh, that reminds me. Do you have any plans for spring break?”
“Nothing solid, what were you thinking of?”
“The guys have been planning a trip for ages, will you come with me?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to spend the time with anyone other than my girl.” His words made you blush. Felix had taken to calling you sweet nicknames pretty early on but this was the first time he had called you ‘his girl.’
“Stop it. You’re making me shy,” you hid your face in his chest. 
Felix reached for your chin, pointing your face up so you would look at him. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before peppering your face with kisses, “You’re so cute.”
Felix and you settled in his bed, deciding to watch a movie. Just as you had picked one you heard a familiar song playing. 
“Hey, did you get some rest?” You answered the call.
“Yeah, what are you doing?” Hyunjin said, still sounding a bit groggy like he had just woken up. 
“I’m over at Felix’s.”
Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh, “will you ever have time for me again?”
You tsked at him, giggling at his antics, “You get most of my time. Let’s plan something though, if you feel neglected.”
“Do I need to call your secretary to schedule Ms. L/n?” Hyunjin replied sarcastically.
“Okay grumpy, I left a treat for you in the fridge so hopefully that’ll put you in a good mood.” You had stopped by Hyunjin's on your way over, hoping that your lemon squares would help brighten his mood.
Hyunjin sounded a bit perked up, “Did you make my favorite?”
“Yes, I did. I made extra for the boys so share!” You heard Hyunjin grumble a bit about sharing but he reluctantly agreed. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, bye-bye.” He hung up before you could confirm if you were free.
“He really likes interrupting us,” Felix huffed out when you hung up the call.
“I think he’s not used to having to share my time,” you gave Felix a peck on the cheek. “You’re sounding a bit jealous,” you teased. 
Felix looked at you with darkened eyes, causing the grin to fall from your face. “You have no idea. He gets most of your time?” Felix asked deeply. 
Your mouth was dry, unable to answer the question as you took in his new demeanor. 
Felix gripped your chin once again, this time much more roughly than before. Bringing his face close to yours he said, “I don’t want to share you, baby.” His voice was so low, every word sending shivers down your spine. His face was so close to yours that his lips ghosted over yours with every word. You tried to reach up to close the very small distance between the two of you but Felix roughly held you in place. “Are you impatient now princess? What about last night? You didn’t have an issue then.” Felix drew a bit away from your face to lock his eyes with yours. “Do you want to make it up to me, love?” You gulped and gave him a steady nod, studying his dark eyes that were flooded with lust. Felix placed a chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before whispering in your ear, “Green for keep going, yellow means this is good but no more, and red for stop,” the tickle of his breath stimulated you more, a wet spot forming in your panties. “Is it okay if we keep going?” Felix pulled away to look at you and you nodded. “I need your words, baby.”
“Green.” That was all it took. Felix crashed his lips onto yours, pulling you into a messy kiss. His hands were quick to explore your body, slipping under your shirt and tracing over your lace-covered breasts. 
He pulled away from you, “off.” He helped you tug your shirt and pants off leaving you in the pretty lace lingerie you had selected. Felix looked you up and down hungrily before positioning himself on top of you and kissing your neck. You moaned as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, definitely leaving a mark behind. You tugged at his t-shirt, feeling like it was a bit unfair that he was still fully clothed. Felix ripped off his shirt and pants, returning between your spread legs and continuing his kisses along your collarbone. He kissed down to your clothed breasts, sucking on your nipple over the lace. You let out whimpers at the sensation, moving your hips up to grind against the bulge visible in his boxers.
Felix groaned at the friction but quickly moved his hands to pin your hips down, “you just keep being such a bad girl. Don’t you realize you’re in trouble?” 
You screamed as he delivered a firm slap to your clothed pussy before resting his hand on the lace, running his index finger gently over the wet fabric of your panties. You shuddered at the light touches, “Please Felix? Let me make it up to you. Stop teasing me.”
“Yeah?” he groaned out in that low voice. He stood up, getting off the bed and motioning you over him. You scrambled up and stood in front of him. He let a chuckle out at your eagerness. “Kneel.”
You dropped to your knees, now eye level with his bulge. He pulled his boxers down and his dick sprung out, hitting his stomach. His tip was leaking and behind the facade Felix felt like he could cum just from the way you sat with your mouth hanging open, waiting for him to fuck your face. He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling it so your hungry gaze was drawn away from his cock and you had to look at his face. His dark eyes softened for a second, “tap on my thigh if it's too much.” 
Felix pushed his tip into your mouth, slowly sinking deeper until you felt him at the back of your throat. You wrapped your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and pressing your tongue on his length. Felix moaned lowly, pulling out of you. When he didn’t immediately thrust back into your mouth, you leaned forward, taking him into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,” Felix’s moans continued as you bobbed your head on his cock, taking him deep into your throat. You gagged around him as he started thrusting harder, fucking your face. Your eyes teared and you drooled around his dick. Felix took in the sight of you, roughly yanking your mouth off his dick by pulling your hair. 
You stared up at him, pupils wide and consumed with lust. Your panties stuck to your core, you were practically dripping on the floor now. “I want you to cum in my mouth baby.”
Felix pulled you up, bringing his lips close to your ear he whispered, “I don’t think you’ve been nearly good enough to be making requests. On the bed, now.”
You quickly followed his command, eagerly waiting for him to touch you. You needed to be touched so badly. Felix pulled you to the edge of the bed so that your legs hung down. He knelt before you, face so close to where you wanted him most. “You want me to touch you, baby?”
“Yes, please. I need it,” you begged him. You gasped as you felt him lick a stripe along your clothed pussy, bucking your hips trying to prolong the contact. 
“You’re such a slut. So wet just from sucking dick.” Felix licked you once again, treacherously slow. You were writhing, begging him continuously to give you more. Finally, he ripped off your panties, tossing them across the room. He ran a finger through your wet folds, flicking your clit in the process. This was enough to cause you to jolt. Felix continued the motion with his finger, slowly flicking your clit and watching you jolt each time. You could feel the heat pooling but his slow motions weren't enough to make you cum. 
“Please, I’m good, I’ll be good just fuck me, please,” you begged shamelessly. 
Felix finally relented, grabbing a condom from the drawer of his side table and rolling it on. He lined himself up with your entrance. He wanted to tease you further but he needed to feel you around him. He thrust into you, filling you up and stretching your walls. Your walls spasmed around him and he stilled for a moment, letting you get used to him but also warding off his orgasm which he knew would come embarrassingly fast if he didn’t pace himself. 
He began fucking into you, moving slowly at first as you still adjusted to the way he stretched your walls. You were a mess of moans, not letting out anything coherent. He quickened his pace, bringing his hand down to rub circles around your clit, pushing you closer to your orgasm. 
“Are you gonna be good? Are you gonna cum on my cock?” 
You moaned out a string of ‘yes’ as you felt your orgasm approach. Your body spasmed as he fucked you through your high, coming shortly after with his hips stuttered. Both of you panted, recovering from your orgasms. 
Felix joined you on the bed, pulling your tired body into his arms and gently kissing you. He pulled away and looked at you. He really looked at you, eyes locked with yours as if he was trying to peer into your soul. 
“What is it?” You asked under his intense gaze. 
“I love you.”
_____________
End of Part 4
This is an original work. Do not republish or repost this work in any form, including translations.
©LuvyBlossom
taglist: @mimihwang248 @meeeds @lixiespick @fangirlnation @chartrucewhore @karmakalesposts
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daisynik7 · 1 year
Text
Rush
Chapter 1: Reputation
Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader
Rating: Explicit
cw: explicit language, college au, fraternities and sororities, eventual smut, underage drinking
Summary: After an uneventful freshman year, sophomore Eren Jaeger joins Alpha Tau, the top fraternity at University of Paradis. In the aftermath of last semester’s scandal, the fraternity makes the decision to partner with the academically successful but socially unpopular sorority Sigma Nu Kappa in hopes of building back their reputation.
As a new member of Sigma Nu Kappa, you meet the mysterious Eren through your roommate and now sister, Mikasa Ackerman. His good looks and intensity pull you in at first. But like it is often portrayed in television and movies, finding love in a frat house is never that simple.
Notes: Chapter title inspired by "End Game" - Taylor Swift
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Alpha Tau fraternity. Arguably the hottest, most popular frat at University of Paradis. Ask any sorority girl who their favorite type of guy is. Nine times out of ten, their answer is “an Alpha Tau”. The same answer applies if you ask any goddamn independent who the worst type of guy is. Girls want to fuck them, guys want to be them, GDIs want to hate them. And that’s why they are the kings on campus. 
For the past ten years, Alpha Tau has always had the most numbers when it comes to recruitment, also known as “rush”. Every potential new member puts them at the top of their list. But that didn’t mean they had the most members.
The thing about Alpha Tau is that they pride themselves on being exclusive. As if a fucking frat wasn’t already “exclusive” enough. They are notoriously critical when it comes to accepting new members, often spending hours during rush week to decide who is worthy of being a brother. The basis of this is usually looks, athletic ability, legacy, and sometimes even academic prowess.
That’s how current sophomore Eren Jaeger and his best friend, Armin Arlert, managed to finesse their way into the elusive club. Eren’s older half-brother, Zeke, who graduated from Paradis a few years back, was a legend in Alpha Tau, known as “The Beast”. Zeke told him all kinds of wild stories about his college shenanigans, specifically about his time in the fraternity. Crazy parties, drunken adventures, all the hot chicks he hooked up with. It sounded like a dream come true to Eren after his horribly boring freshman year. That’s what inspired him to rush this year as a sophomore, dragging Armin along with him.
Once the frat found out Eren was a “legacy”, being related to “The Beast”, he was a shoo-in. He also persuaded them to give a bid to Armin, convincing them that he is the smartest and most strategic man they’ll ever meet, right next to Erwin Smith, the current president of the fraternity.
The others in his pledge class are Connie Springer, Jean Kirstein, and Marco Bott. Jean and Marco got in based on their athletic ability; they are members of the college soccer team. Connie was recruited purely for his funny personality and good nature. And maybe also the fact that he is a massive stoner, which they took a liking to.
Tonight is the first chapter meeting that the new pledge class is allowed to attend. After a few weeks of new member development, taught by the strait-laced and straight-edge senior Levi Ackerman, Eren and his class are officially Alpha Tau brothers. Now the fun begins.
As they fall in line outside the chapter room, Armin leans in close to Eren and whispers, “Some of the members got kicked out.”
He whips he head around and asks, “Huh? Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I heard that the last president, Nile Dok, messed up big time last semester. He was turning a blind eye to all the problematic members. They were caught cheating and trying to pay their way out of trouble. Obviously, they didn’t get away with it.”
As some of their other brothers start falling in line in front of them, Armin continues in a slightly hushed voice. “Also, they called themselves the Mega Pornstars, or the MPs for short. They had their own group chat, rating the girls they’ve hooked up with and ranking them. They had a whole list. Someone in that chat let it slip to Erwin, who immediately brought it up to Nile. And Nile knew about it all along. He was in the group chat himself, but never participated in it. But he knew about it. Saw what they were saying and didn’t do anything to stop it. So now, with Erwin being president, those members were immediately suspended during the summer. And the ones who graduated, he stripped them of any association with the fraternity.”
“How do you know about this? You seem to have all the details.”
Armin looks down to his side, and in an even quieter voice, replies, “Mikasa told me.”
Mikasa.
At the mention of her name, Eren instantly feels guilt. Ever since he decided to rush, he hasn’t had time to spend with his other best friend. Well, truth be told, he hasn’t made the effort to spend time with her. Armin, on the other hand, has. Making him feel even worse.
Realizing what Armin just said, he asks, “Wait. How does Mikasa know?”
Armin gives him a small smile and states, “Mikasa joined a sorority.”
~~~
Rushing a sorority was not something you thought you’d be doing the start of your sophomore year of college. But somehow, a few weeks later, you find yourself sitting beside your roommate and now pledge sister, Mikasa Ackerman, in your first chapter meeting as an official member.
The two of you have an interesting relationship. You were roommates in your freshman year, but it almost felt like you lived alone. She was always out with her friends and she only came back to the room to sleep and bathe. While she wasn’t necessarily your best friend, the few times you interacted were always cordial. Sure, she is a little intense, but she is never rude. Just absent.
It surprised you when you received a text from her over the summer asking to be roommates again. You thought she didn’t care enough to even consider you. Honestly, you felt a little honored. Despite her intensity, you always found Mikasa Ackerman to be cool. Aside from her dashing good looks, she had a confidence about her that just screamed badass. You lacked confidence yourself, finding your looks to be unassuming and plain. It didn’t help that your freshman year turned out to be as uneventful as you were hoping it wouldn’t be. How does one even find a party to go to? The few friends you made are just as home bodied as you, so spending time inside the dorm was the norm.
Sophomore year has proved to be much different than last. Mikasa, who used to be a ghost roommate, is now your friend. She spends most of her time with you now. Obviously, you don’t question it. Instead, you embrace it. You like Mikasa. It’s fun hanging out with her. It’s like you’re making up for lost time.
When she suggested rushing, you couldn’t help but think it was a joke. But no, she was dead serious. And as if Mikasa wasn’t already convincing enough, she asked you, “Don’t you want to be more social this year? Go to college parties? Meet boys? Have fun?”
And that’s how you end up as an official sister of Sigma Nu Kappa.
The thing about Signa Nu Kappa, or SNK for short, is that they aren’t the most popular sorority on campus. Notoriously, women rank it last on their interest list during rush week. On paper, it’s an organization that has great academic reputation, making it well liked among the professors and staff. They are the ideal representation of what the Student Affairs Committee want a sorority to look like. However, to the fellow students, they are boring. They don’t party. Their social reputation amongst the other organizations in Greek Life is essentially nonexistent. It’s also seen as the place where all the women who couldn’t get into their first pick, maybe even their second or third, end up joining. The rejects.
Is it true? Maybe for some women. But after getting to know the sororities during the first week of recruitment, both you and Mikasa end up ranking SNK first. You feel comfortable with the women there. While the other sororities are nice, it’s Signa Nu Kappa that feels like home, as cheesy as that sounds.
Now, after a few weeks of getting familiar with the sorority and Greek Life in general, you and Mikasa sit beside each other, attending your very first chapter meeting as Sigma Nu Kappa sisters. Current president, Hange Zoë, stands at the podium, reading announcements off a piece of paper.
“Welcome new babies to your first official Sigma Nu Kappa chapter meeting! Woohoo!”
The other sisters clap, beaming at you and the rest of your class. You give Mikasa a knowing smile, which she returns. Hange reads off a list of housekeeping items, none of which apply to you considering you don’t live in the house yet.
“Okay! The boring stuff is out of the way. I’ll let our Social Chair take the stand now!”
Petra Ral, another senior, take’s Hange’s place at the podium. “Hi sisters! I have a very exciting announcement to make. This semester, we are being paired up with a fraternity in the effort to build stronger relations with the others in Greek Life.”
This news creates a buzz around the room. You hear one of your pledge sisters, Sasha Braus, squeal two seats down, “Ooohhh boys?!”
Petra continues. “Now I know we don’t have the best reputation for being the most social sorority, and this partnership might be a little bit out of the comfort zone for some of you. But we strongly believe this is a great way to improve the status of our organization. We don’t want to be seen as a sorority that only performs well academically. If we want more women to join us, we need to be seen as fun! Which we are! They just don’t know it yet!”
Hange exclaims, “Well said, Petra! There’s no doubt that we are a fun group of women. People don’t know it yet. But they will soon enough!”
“So which frat are we pairing up with?” Nanabe, another senior, asks.
With a bright smile on her face, Petra announces, “Alpha Tau!” The buzz in the room is even louder now.
Suddenly, you feel Mikasa stiffen beside you. You turn to her and whisper, “Are you okay?” There’s a worried look on her face, but she doesn’t say anything.
Three seats down, next to Sasha, you hear a sarcastic snort from Annie Leonhart. “Great. We’re getting paired with a bunch of disgusting pigs.”
Christa Lenz, who sits to your other side, leans forward to ask innocently, “Annie, what do you mean?”
Ymir puts her arm around Christa’s chair and answers, “She means exactly what she said, sweetheart. Alpha Tau is a frat of disgusting pigs.”
Mikasa snaps her head towards Ymir and yells, “They’re not!”
You and the rest of your pledge class are taken aback by her outburst. Annie leans forward to face Mikasa with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Mikasa. I don’t include Armin when I say that. But everyone else in there can choke and die for all I care.”
Mikasa glares at her, fury in her eyes, looking like she’s ready to attack. Before anything escalates, Hange joins Petra at the front. “Okay, listen everyone. I know this is a very…controversial decision. Now, let me reiterate that what is said in this chapter room, stays in the chapter room. Got it?” She eyes you and your pledge class before proceeding.
“Alpha Tau is very close to being on probation by the Student Affairs Committee. Some of you may already be aware of this, but a small group of their members participated in some very inappropriate conduct. Since Erwin has been president, those members have been kicked out and properly dealt with. Erwin has made sure that they no longer represent Alpha Tau in any way whatsoever. Both Erwin and Levi Ackerman, their vice president, came to me and Petra wanting to form a partnership this semester in an attempt to improve their besmirched reputation. By pairing with us for a semester, they hope to prove to the committee that they can be a respectable fraternity, both with academics and towards women.”
Nanabe questions, “Why us? The other sororities perform fine academically too. Seems so out of the blue they want to partner with us.”
“Well, based on numbers, we have the highest average GPA. Also, truthfully, none of the other sororities were willing to partner up with them. Considering the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
Hange pauses, unsure whether to continue or not. “Okay. Let me say this again. What is said in this room stays in this room. The now banned brothers from Alpha Tau made a list ranking the women they had sex with.” There are a few gasps and shocked reactions at this news. It makes you sick hearing it. “This includes many women from the other sororities. So, naturally, the presidents of each of those sororities are choosing to distance themselves from Alpha Tau, at least for this semester, once all the smoke clears. Until then, we are the only sorority who has a clean slate with Alpha Tau.”
Petra adds, “Also, both me and Hange are close to Levi and Erwin, respectively, and they’ve been wanting to pair with us for quite some time. Now that they are prez and vice prez, they have more say in those matters and are finally making it happen.”
“So, we’re just supposed to be okay with pairing with a fraternity that ranks women based on their skills in bed? How is this okay?” Annie argues.
“They kicked out those members! The current brothers had nothing to do with it!” Petra cries out.
Ymir chimes in with a smug expression. “Wasn’t their last president in on it too? That Nile guy? And is it true they called themselves the Mega Pornstars?”
Hange answers with a frenzied look, “Nile didn’t participate in it! And he’s already graduated, so it doesn’t matter anymore! But yes, unfortunately the Mega Pornstars thing is true.”
More groaning surrounds the room. You look over at Annie, who crosses her arms with a furrowed brow, silently sulking. Turning your head the opposite way, you see Ymir whispering to Christa, who eyes are wide with shock, the poor thing. Suddenly, Mikasa stands up straight, the unexpected movement making you flinch.
“My vote is yes for this, President Hange! We have to help them get their reputation back. For Armin…and…and for Eren…” She stops talking, looking deep in thought at that last part.
Eren? He must be the other friend. The one she no longer hangs out with.
Hange looks over at her, confused. “Uhh, we don’t technically need to vote on this, but thank you for the vocal support, Mikasa. Look everyone, I know this is unprecedented, but I can assure you: This is going to be beneficial for both parties. They need our help to build back a good reputation; we need their help to further improve ours. It’s a win-win.”
“We’re going to be collaborating with them mostly for charity events. But we were thinking we can also have a couple of exchanges, for fun. Oh, by the way, for our new members, exchanges are social events between a sorority and fraternity. We haven’t gotten down to the nitty gritty details, but I will update you soon on a schedule of events!” Petra explains.
The president takes over again and ends the chapter meeting, thus ending the conversation on Alpha Tau all together. You and Mikasa gather with the rest of your pledge class to walk back to your dorms. Sasha is the first to bring it up once you’re well away from the house. “So, what do you ladies think? About the whole Alpha Tau thing?”
Ymir scoffs, “Well, you all certainly know how Annie and I feel. I’m trying to convince little Christa here to feel the same, but she’s not having it.”
“I just think we should give them a chance. Just like they’re giving us a chance, right?” Christa says, as sweet as ever.
After having a few minutes to digest the information, you say, “I agree with Christa. I think we should go in with an open mind. I trust Hange and Petra’s judgement. I don’t think they’d put us in a situation that would harm us. This Erwin Smith guy seems nice enough.”
“It’s not Erwin Smith I’m worried about,” Annie says.
“Annie, stop being so cryptic and just tell us what you know!” Sasha exclaims, biting into a piece of bread that she somehow conjured from her pockets.
“There are these two guys I know in there. One of them isn’t so bad. Bertolt. He’s actually okay. The other, well. He’s just a straight up dick. Reiner. Reiner Braun. Straight up asshole.”
“What makes him such an asshole?”
“He’s just a typical frat boy. Obnoxious, cocky, a player. The three of us went to the same high school. They’re a year older than me.”
“Just because he’s a fuck boy doesn’t mean they all are! Armin’s in there, and he’s a total sweetheart! Right Mikasa?” Sasha turns to Mikasa, begging for a comment.
Mikasa stares at the ground with her hands in her pocket. Quietly, she replies, “Yes. Armin is a sweetheart.”
“Isn’t your other friend in there too? Eren? What’s he like?”
You try not to let your curiosity show, but you can’t help but perk your ears up to Sasha’s question.
Mikasa stays quiet for a few seconds, before saying, “He’s nice too.” No more elaboration.
“See, Annie? All we have to do is avoid this Reiner guy and it should be fine! Don’t let one rotten potato spoil the whole bag!”
“Why does it always seem like you’re talking about potatoes, you doofus?” Annie snaps.
You all veer off into different directions, saying goodbye for the night. As you and Mikasa walk towards your dorm, you let a comfortable silence fall between you, not wanting to cross any lines with your roommate. At the door, Mikasa mutters, “Wait.” You turn to face her, listening.
“I’d like to get some things off my chest.” You mentally brace yourself for what she’s about to reveal to you.
“I know that you’re probably wondering who Eren is. He’s my best friend. Him, me, and Armin. We all grew up together, but Eren is practically a brother to me. And I know you must have been curious why all of a sudden, I’m hanging out with you more than them.” She swallows before she continues. “The truth is, ever since he rushed Alpha Tau, he’s been too busy to hang out with me. Sometimes I think he’s forgotten about me completely. Armin still makes time to see me, but even he’s too busy nowadays. So, I joined a sorority to make more friends and be more social, instead of sulking in my own loneliness. And I don’t harbor ill feelings towards Eren. Maybe I did at the start, but not anymore. I just…I just want to make sure he doesn’t forget about me.”
She stares at the ground the entire time, arms crossed over her chest. “I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. For being my friend. And going through this with me. And since we’re going to be seeing a lot of Alpha Tau now, you should know about Eren, since you’ll probably be seeing him too.”
This is the most you’ve heard her speak. It stuns you for a few seconds. You let a moment of silence pass before you walk towards her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Mikasa. Thank you for telling me. I know it’s not easy opening up.”
She looks at you, expression still serious. “It’s not, but I feel like you should know.”
“I appreciate it. Hey, I know it feels like you may have lost a brother, but at least you gained a sister, right?”
Finally, a small smile forms on her lips. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
“You should just try talking to him, tell him how you feel,” you suggest as you swipe your ID to open the door to your dorm.
“I’ve tried to text him, but he never responds. I can’t ever get a hold of him.”
“Well, maybe this collab with Alpha Tau is exactly what you need to reconcile with him.”
“I guess.”
Back in the room, the two of you change into pajamas and start getting ready for bed as you continue to chat about other topics besides Eren. Once in bed, you turn to your side and contemplate the night’s events.
There’s no denying that this partnership with the most popular fraternity on campus excites you. Disregarding the giant shit stain from the bad apples, everyone knows that Alpha Tau are the “cool” guys on campus, whatever that means. Maybe this is exactly what you need to work on your confidence. It’s a good opportunity to meet new people, maybe practice a little bit of flirting. Maybe even make some new friends.
One thing is for sure: You are determined to make this year more exciting than last.
~~~
Erwin Smith, Alpha Tau’s chapter president, stands up straight in the front of the chapter room. His first announcement of the night is regarding “big brother” assignments.
“New pledge Armin Arlert. Your big brother is Bertolt Hoover.”
Bertolt, who sits in front of them, turns around to give Armin a kind smile, which is returned.
“New pledge Eren Jaeger. Your big brother is Reiner Braun.”
Right next to Bertolt is blond-haired junior Reiner Braun, who turns to give Eren a cocky smirk before saying, “Hope you’re ready to fucking party, man.”
Eren smirks back. “Hell yeah. You gonna show me the ropes?”
The blonde only scoffs as he turns back around to face the front.
Eren nudges Armin before paying his attention back to the president. After he reads off the other big brother assignments, he says, “I’d like to give the floor to our vice president, Levi Ackerman.”
“Good evening, everyone. Welcome new members to your first chapter meeting. On a serious note, I have some news that I know most of you are aware of already.” He explains the situation about Nile Dok and the “MPs”, more or less of what Armin told Eren just a few minutes earlier. “I know it’s a bit of a hit to our numbers, but those members did not exemplify the values of Alpha Tau. President Erwin did what needed to be done.”
“Hear hear!” one of the seniors yell, followed by some cheers from the others.
Another senior that Eren met a few days ago, Mike Zacharias, says, “Fuck the MPs. And fuck Nile Dok.”
“Mike,” Erwin warns from the side. Nile was Erwin’s big brother, unfortunately.
Levi continues. “Honestly, we should be ashamed we let those fucking pricks into our organization in the first place. But what’s done is done. Now onto my other big announcement. To atone for what those fucking shit stains did, Erwin and I have decided the best way to move forward is to pair up with one of the sororities on campus.”
This news results in an overwhelming round of cheers and hollering from the brothers, to which Eren can’t help but join in on. He nudges Armin again, who smiles.  Jean, who’s seated on Armin’s other side, leans in close to whisper, “Who do you think it’s gonna be? I hope it’s the Delta Mu’s, they’ve got the hottest chicks.”
Connie chimes in, “Eta Iota girls are hot too. Walked by them while they were doing their porch yells last week.” He lets out a low whistle.
“Oh yeah! All the sororities had their first chapter last Sunday,” Armin notes.
Levi raises his voice over the commotion. “Alright brothers, settle down, settle down. After a lot of discussion, we’ve decided that the sorority we’re pairing with is Sigma Nu Kappa.”
A different outburst fills the room now. There are a few cheers, mostly from the seniors, but there is an overwhelming sound of disappointed groans.
“Sigma Nu Kappa? Are you fucking serious?” Reiner grumbles to Bertolt, who just nods with a neutral expression on his face.
Armin, on the other hand, can’t help but grin and exclaim, “Yes!”
“You know about them?” Eren asks.
“That’s Mikasa’s sorority!” he answers, excited.
Eren still can’t get over the shock that Mikasa Ackerman, the girl he grew up with over the last ten years, the woman who looks like she couldn’t hurt a fly but can actually kick your ass, is now in a sorority. It’s something he has to see to believe. And given this announcement, he’s going to see it sooner than he expects.
“Now, I know a lot of our brothers aren’t familiar with the sisters of Sigma Nu Kappa. This is a great opportunity to get to know them. Most of us seniors are familiar with the other seniors in Sigma Nu Kappa and I can say with full confidence that they are a group of fine, albeit unique, women,” Levi tells them.
Erwin stands up and walks beside Levi, adding, “Yes. It’s in all of our best interests to be respectful and welcoming to the sisters of SNK. As Alpha Tau men should be to all women. I will not tolerate disrespect or harassment of any kind. I am quite close to President Hange Zoë, so be warned. Any hint of misconduct, you are out.”
“Petra, who is their social chair, and I are working on a schedule of events. We plan to have our first exchange in two weeks, followed by a volunteer event a week after that. I’ll send an email reminder later, along with role assignments for the exchange. Any questions, you can come directly to me. My room is on the second floor.” With that, Levi adjourns the meeting. Before they file out, Levi yells, “Pledges. Meet in the kitchen in five minutes. I’d like to have a word before you leave tonight.”
Armin and Eren tail the rest of their pledge class as they make their way downstairs towards the kitchen.
“This is exciting! I’ve been curious about this sorority ever since Mikasa told me she was rushing. She said this was her top choice.”
“Why didn’t she say anything to me?”
“I’m sure she tried to, Eren. You don’t ever respond to her texts.”
“Well, how am I supposed to respond to a text that just says ‘Eren’? If she has something to say, she should just say it.”
“Oh, Eren,” Armin responds, shaking his head in disappointment.
They gather in the kitchen, waiting for Levi to meet them. He comes down two minutes later, a stern look on his face, as usual.
“Pledges. Just wanted to clarify some things. An exchange is a gathering between a sorority and fraternity. I know I said I have some role assignments, but I can assure you, you will not have any assignments during our first exchange with Sigma Nu Kappa. We want you to enjoy your first party as official Alpha Tau brothers.”
Jean responds, “Hell yeah. Good shit, Levi!” Marco follows with a cheerful, “Yay!”
When the vice president dismisses them, Armin and Eren make their way towards the front door to start walking to their dorm. Before they reach the handle, Reiner’s voice booms from the top of the stairs.
“Eren! Armin! Bertolt and I are getting McDonald's. Want to come?” 
The best friends look at each other for a second before agreeing with a resounding, “Yes!”
A few minutes later, Eren and Armin ride in the back of Bertolt’s Honda Civic while Reiner occupies the passenger seat. Classic 80s rock blasts through the car’s speakers as they ride off campus with the windows rolled down.
Reiner turns the volume lower on the car to speak. “So, what did you guys think of your first Alpha Tau chapter meeting?”
Armin replies, “It was cool! I’m excited to be paired up with Sigma Nu Kappa.”
Reiner scoffs, similar to what Eren heard earlier in the chapter room. “I don’t know about these Sigma Nu Kappas. I heard they’re pretty lame.”
“My best friend is in SNK, she’s in the new pledge class,” Armin says, a bit defensively.
“Annie’s in there too,” Bertolt adds.
Another scoff from the blond. “Annie? Now I know for a fact they’re lame if they gave her a bid.”
Eren notices Bertolt’s grip on the steering wheel tighten but doesn’t say anything in response.
“Hey, Eren. Did Zeke ever tell you how he was my big bro when I first joined? He was a senior when I was a freshman, and he already had two other littles from the previous pledge classes. But he still picked me up. Dude was a legend,” Reiner says.
“I didn’t know that. I guess it’s fate that brought us together,” Eren responds, with a deadpan expression.
Reiner laughs. “You’re a little crazy, you know that? You say some weird shit, but I like you. This is going to be fun.” He turns towards the front and blasts the music on high again, drowning out any potential for further conversation.
Eren nods his head along to the music, leaning his face towards the open window to feel the coolness of the night air against his skin. The breeze blows through his long hair as he repeats the sentiment from Reiner in his head.
This is going to be fun.
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