#I was inspired through this to maybe make

[alyasalias]

It's not about changing the world. Standing up for what you believe is right isn't about your own survival or about whether or not your side 'wins'. It's knowing that you stood by what you agree with.

"I do not agree with your policies. I will not be the one to push the button. Yeah, it's likely to get pushed with or without me here--but I refuse to be the one to push that button."

Hypothetically, if Cameron Klein died then and there and the button was pushed, then what? What was the point? The point was that he dies standing up for what he believes in. Those that continue on can use him as a martyr for the cause. And if Klein's consciousness exists in an afterlife somewhere, then maybe it's at peace knowing that he didn't compromise on his ideals. "Yes, I'm dead. But I died staring down something I could not condone and telling it 'over my dead body--fuck off'." If he caves, maybe he dies of old-age…then what? He dies with regrets. He dies knowing that he pushed the buttons that allowed something he doesn't agree with to go through.

"My vote doesn't matter", "The party/person I vote for never wins", "Nobody else is befriending the new kid, so I won't either"--screw what everyone else is doing and start thinking about what it is that *you* want to be doing. Do that. It matters. It's not about organizing a movement. Forget that and just make your move.

Inspiring the crowd to make better decisions isn't some monumental thing. Heck, often times it's not an organized action. Sometimes all it takes for a "crowd" to make changes is for every individual in that crowd to make a choice quietly/privately and carry it out, regardless of whether or not anyone else is doing it too. Do your part--focus on what you can do and do what you can live with even if you think that you are the only one doing it.

[steddieas-shegoes]

not to me

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote “I’ll take care of you” “it’s rotten work” “not to me. Not if it’s you”

rated t | 947 words | cw: injury recovery | tags: pre-relationship, post-Vecna, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss, disabled Eddie Munson

👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️

“Fuck!” Eddie yells as he throws his hands up in frustration.

He’s been trying to stand on his own for days now, and the furthest he’s gotten is pulling himself most of the way up. His legs shake. He falls back down.

Repeat again until he finally isn’t even strong enough to get himself upright.

Wayne’s always home, but he doesn’t watch. At least he doesn’t let Eddie know if he is. But he’s home in case Eddie ends up hurting himself or falling onto something other than his bed or the couch.

Steve’s come by a few times, offering to be a steady body to hold onto. He doesn’t accept the offer. Usually, he jokes that Wayne’s the only man he’s ever trusted and distracts him with something else.

“Alright, Ed?” Wayne calls to him from the kitchen.

“Fine!” Eddie calls back because he doesn’t want Wayne to come into his room and see him splayed out in his bed while his walker is still unused by his bed. He glares at the wheelchair in the corner of the room.

The doctors said he’d be in it for a long time, maybe months, but he’s determined to prove them wrong. They also said he wouldn’t play guitar again, but he was already able to play most of the chords.

He hears a car pull up outside and he just knows it’s Steve. Of course he would come over now.

The car door opens and closes.

The front door opens and closes.

Wayne greets him like he’s an old pal and he kind of is. It’s a little weird how close they’ve become since Eddie woke up, but whatever.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door before it opens.

Closes.

Steve looks nice. Not dressed up, necessarily, but he’s wearing his good jeans and a new polo. His hair is done a little less carefree, more like he actually went through the phases of blow drying it, putting product in it, and then showing up here to drive Eddie and his unrequited crush crazy.

He smells nice, too.

“Is that a new cologne?”

“It’s not new, I just only wear it for dates.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. It shouldn’t.

Not only is Eddie a man, but he’s also weird. And, at this current time, he’s pretty much bedbound or being pushed around in a wheelchair.

Steve’s a good guy, but he isn’t gonna waste the good cologne on visiting Eddie.

“Oh. Where you taking her? Movies? Dinner?” Eddie sits up so he doesn’t have to look up at Steve. His mind starts to wander to other reasons Steve might be above him, but luckily, Steve answers before he gets carried away.

“I’m taking you to my place,” Steve replies simply.

“I thought you were going on a date?”

“I am. I’m taking you to my house.”

“No offense, but I’d rather not sit alone at your house while you’re on a date,” Eddie snorts. “Is this because Wayne’s leaving in the morning for a weekend trip? I swear I’ll be fine on my own. Dustin’s coming by tomorrow anyway.”

“Eddie.” Steve takes both of his hands. “I’m taking you to my house for a date. You and me. On a date. I’m making dinner for us and I thought you could help me make a character sheet.”

Eddie must’ve fallen and hit his head. He must’ve blacked out. Wayne will be so pissed that his independence has landed him in the hospital again.

“You’re saying words to me. I hear them.”

Steve groans. He lets go of Eddie’s hands and cups his face instead.

“Wayne said this would be difficult.” He rubs his thumb against Eddie’s cheek, smirking. “You’re awake. You’re alive. I’m really here in front of you. I’m asking you to come to my house so I can charm you and maybe kiss you at the end of our date. And then you can stay at mine, but there’s no expectations. I have the guest room made up for you.”

“This is crazy. You realize this is crazy?” Eddie squeaks. “You’re not even gay!”

“I’m a little gay,” Steve laughs. “And I really like you.”

“But-“ Eddie turns to his wheelchair. He’s definitely gonna need it to get outside and then back inside Steve’s house. And then he’ll probably need help getting upstairs to the guest room, or Steve’s room if he’s lucky. “You’ll have to help me. For a long time maybe. The doctors might have been right on this. I can’t even stand, let alone walk. And I’m miserable about it. What you walked in on was my 28th attempt at getting up to use my walker today and I’m no closer than I was on day one, attempt one. It’ll be a lot of fucking work, taking care of me.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Eddie’s speechless for quite possibly the first time in his life.

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie nods once. Steve beams at him, like he’s given him the best gift he’s ever received.

He gets lightheaded almost immediately. Steve’s lips are gentle against his, full of so much tenderness and love. It’s almost more than he can handle.

Eddie chases his lips as Steve pulls away.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie whines.

“I’m gonna take you home. We’re gonna have a date. And then we’re gonna kiss again. Let me treat you right, though,” Steve says and winks.

“You stop that. I can’t handle your winking.”

Steve laughs, kisses him again. He leans back and claps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get you in the chair so we can get home. Dinner’s gonna take about an hour to make.”

[mellowyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they’re jealous?

This is Heartslabyul and the Misc Characters section- Links are all here: Savanaclaw/Octovinelle, Scarabia/Pomfiore/Ignihyde, and Diasomnia. All characters are meant to be interpreted as romantic. The reader is gender-neutral. There may be mild spoilers as to who overblots and other facts. Some of them might have Yandere tendencies, though nothing graphic or descriptive and always very mild, they’ll be marked with a ‘Y’ if they do. Mainly because sometimes the boys are calm and talk through their feelings… And sometimes they go down possessive insecurity-included spirals. If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave a reblog or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants.

Heartslabyul:  

Riddle Rosehearts - Y (For pre-overblot section only) 

Pre-overblot, Riddle manages to fit a lot of jealousy inside his tiny body. 

Talking with someone he doesn’t like? He’s declaring that it’s off with their head because they broke a rule. Someone else is flirting with you? Oh no, the hedgehogs aren’t in order, he needs you to come help him fix them. Is someone doing anything in your presence that he dislikes? THE RULES STATE THAT ONE MUST NEVER TAKE THE KING AWAY FROM THE QUEEN! 

He’s willing to make up new rules just to keep you there with him. He’s lost so many friends because of his mother, but this is a feeling just for him. You understand, don’t you? You know what he feels and you’re willing to stand by his side? Forever? You’re the only one who can. You need to promise you’ll be his king, you’ll never leave him. 

Post-overblot and he’s much more calm. At least, he’s calm by his standards. He’s still… A bit over the top at times. He wants to make sure that you actually love him, that you’re not going to leave. 

But more than that, he’s worried that he’s too clingy. Are you tired of him focusing on you? Are you thinking secretly that he needs to grow up? Do you think he’s sidetracked, as his mother does? Do you think that he needs to change again? Is he too lax this time, is he boring? Is it a chore to entertain him? Are you planning on leaving? 

Just reassure your poor redhead. He wants to be the best he can be, and he wants to be that with you. He just needs to be told that you really do love him and want to be around him. Maybe give him some kind of signal so he can tell you how he feels without needing to outright say it and listen to his concerns whenever he comes to you. 

Trey Clover - 

Trey wouldn’t get jealous under normal circumstances. He trusts you, assuming he’d like to or is dating you, and that’s that. He’d only get jealous if someone was genuinely hitting on you, and you just… Didn’t notice or care. 

While he prides himself on his ability to keep a cool and level head, the moment he sees you with someone else, watching them touch you on your arm and compliment you the same way he does. No, he compliments you even better! 

“You’re so pretty…” He can call you beautiful, jaw-dropping, stunning, or awe-inspiring! “My dear,” You’re his sweetheart, his life, his heart and head, his darling cookie! “I think we should go somewhere more private…” Okay, maybe he’s too much of a gentleman to tell you that- he believes you should take the relationship st your own time and he’s never said that to you around others where you could be pressured- but he could at least say it with more class! 

Trey’s annoying, maybe even seething. But still, tell the person you’re uninterested and take a step back. Even punch him in the face, if you’re that pissed! Trey would do it if he weren’t vice-housewarden! Just don’t tell Riddle and it’s all good! 

If that doesn’t work, or if you don’t do anything, he’ll easily swoop in to ‘save you’. He’ll hand the guy a treat, wrap his arms around you, and pull you off to the kitchen with him to “help with some baking.” He will even use his unique magic on the guy if he doesn’t get the hint- Well, on the treat he gave them. No one likes gross-tasting foods, especially ones catered to the thing you hate the taste of the most. 

Cater Diamond - 

Outwardly, he’ll come up to you and chat. Who’re you with? Hey, Cay-cay’s got a quick Magicam post to take, could ya come over here real quick? Just take the photo, you don’t have to be in it or anything! Unless you wanted to! 

He’s calm and collected and barely bothered. Why would he be? He’s got nothing to worry about and he knows you like him and that you’d never do anything to cheat or be with anyone else! At all! 

Internally he’s curled into a ball and crying. Is he not good enough? He can be. He promises! He’ll be whatever you need, whatever you have to get! Please, just stay with him! Don’t leave! 

He needs some reassurance. Don’t let him sweep it under the rug, no matter how hard he tries. Please, just tell him it was all a misunderstanding. Thank him for being there with you. Please. 

Cater’s terrified you’ll leave him. Is it slightly unhealthy? Yes. Maybe. Totally. He’s been begging for crumbs of your attention every chance he gets, in his own way. But if you find it in yourself to be charitable… Please, just put up with him? 

Ace Trapolla - 

If nothing else, Ace is a brat, in every sense of the word. He’s a bit rude, obnoxious, and naive to certain social cues. He doesn’t follow rules and he’s not interested in learning them. He’s selfish, too. But especially selfish with your time. 

Ace will try to call you away at any time if you’re with someone else. What do you mean, Jamil needs some help preparing dinner? You’re going to need some help getting out if things go like they did last time! So, you better invite him along, too. He’ll be a great help! Besides, Jamil’s in the basket with him, they’re wonderful friends! There’s no way that you two will get kicked out with Ace here, considering how you’re a major klutz with anything sharp and would get totally sent away without him. 

He’ll come up behind you if you’re talking to someone. Snaking an arm around your midsection, dipping his hands to clutch your hips, and watching the person who was once talking to you. He might be laughing, but he’s also squeezing you and subtly insulting them. Or, he thinks his being subtle, but if you weren’t being held by him, the other guy would have punched him by now. 

His fingers dig into the skin around your hips as he pulls you away from them, the smirk on his face slightly darker than the lighthearted boy you normally know. Once you’re all alone, he stuffs his face into your neck, taking a deep breath. No matter what you tell him, he only savors you for a second, before giving you a little push and telling you to thank him for saving you from such a jerk. 

But if you were to pull him back in and thank him… Maybe he’ll tell you what’s bothering him- If you’re lucky. Maybe. Or you’ll just get an extra long and tight hug. 

Deuce Spade - Y 

Duece is a sweetheart who tries his best not to get jealous. Really, he tries! He’s on track to be an honor student, and honor students can calmly talk about their feelings with the person they like. So, that is what he will do… After he roughs up the perpetrator a bit. 

Just a little! Or a lot… Or just until you stop him, or Riddle’s nearby… Don’t worry, he wouldn’t hit someone just for flirting! They were trying to touch you… They had a hand on your waist, and were pulling you closer… It looked like they were even trying to kiss you! What was Duece supposed to do? Let them? He couldn’t bear it if anyone did anything to you! 

Deuce is protective. You can handle yourself, he knows that! But he used to fight a lot, so he could do it better. Besides, you’re new to this world! You might not even be able to tell when someone’s flirting with you until it’s too late! He has to be there to protect you, or else what could happen? Could you be hurt? Emotionally or physically harmed? He can’t bear to think about it! 

He’ll pull you away, much like Ace, if he can’t control himself most of the time. But the moment you’re touched? He’ll fight whoever does it. Tell him not to and he’ll tone it down, yes, but the glare from a former delinquent is still enough to send most people back with their tails between their legs. Of course, when you’re looking, he’s all smiles and rainbows. He’s your guard dog, don’t worry about it! He’s just making sure no trash gets close to you! 

Besides, you have him, and all of your friends! Like Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, and maybe even Riddle! You two share a friend group, isn’t that great? If anyone ever bothers you, he’ll always be there to stop them! No one will take advantage of you while he’s here! 

RSA+NBC: 

Neige Leblanche - 

It all starts when Neige sees you at a shared event. He’s been so excited to see you, but before he gets there, he finds Vil’s there with you. He bites his ruby lips and his hands are shaking as he watches the other man wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close enough to whisper something in your ear. Normally, when you laugh he’s so happy, but now it feels like there’s something yucky about it. 

It takes a while before Neige even knows what he’s feeling. It’s like something is slithering around his insides, pitting at the bottom of his stomach and sometimes threatening to come out his throat. Even when he goes up to talk to you, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

It isn’t until you pull away from Vil to hug you himself that he realizes it’s jealousy. Only once it’s away does he know that your affections were its only cure, and its cause was always when what he so desperately wanted was flung off to be given to someone else. 

He stays very close to you for the rest of the night. He tries to make sure those feelings that he knows but doesn’t yet understand how to tame don’t come back. He gets your number and whatever social media you’re willing to give over, and he’s overjoyed from it. It’s his own little prize, his own little gift from the world now sitting in his pocket. 

He doesn’t get jealous often after that- After all, he knows that you’ll take care of him if he needs it. He can trust you, after all, you’re his one true love. The royal he was always looking for, the person to rescue him like a knight in shining armor, riding in on a snow-white horse. He can trust you, right? 

Rollo Flamme - Y

Rollo gets jealous very, very easily. He’s seething, filled with rage and misplaced care, attempting to tie you down or up or any other way. Trying to tie you to him, no matter how much you kick and scream. 

You know that he needs you, don’t you? Well, he does. Honest to the god he worships, he does. He’d swear on his name faster than yours, if only because his honor means nothing while yours is a pure as mountain snow. He’d write you name into his skin if only you let him, he’d steal every inch of you away and keep it all pure, forever and ever. 

So when he sees you with a mage, he can’t help but get jealous. How could he not? You’re wondrous. Illuminatingly stunning, bursting his heart as fireworks do in the sky, filled with beautiful, burning passion. And he is merely a magic user. He is no more worthy of you than they are, but for them to think otherwise… He will not turn a blind eye to those who desire to do something horrid to his darling.

[delilahsturns]

— ୨୧ getting older . . . m.s

in which . . . two childhood best friends bump into each other after drifting apart.

warnings . . . resolved angst, fluff toward end.

a/n 💌 : based off of real life experiences lol, it’s been a while since i’ve written angst so i hope you like it!

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

The coffee shop in boston, massachusetts smelled exactly the same as it always did. a nostalgic and sweet blend of cinnamon and espresso that floated around the air. you had been avoiding this cafe for quite some time now, considering that you had just moved back to boston around a year ago to be closer to your family and friends. too many memories were wrapped up in this place—so much laughter, whispered secrets, and mostly of all…him.

you sighed heavily, adjusting the strap of the bag slung on your shoulder as you waited in line, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. suddenly, you heard a voice call out your name. a warm, and familiar voice you hadn’t heard in nearly eight years.

“y/n?” the voice asked softly. your heart stalled, something in your mind clicked. fuck, this couldn’t be, this had to be some sort of illusion, hallucination. but it wasn’t. you slowly turned around, and there he was.

matt sturniolo. the only man you’d ever been in love with.

he looked older, of course. his shoulders looked broader, his hair was a little messier as it fell effortlessly over his forehead. but his blue eyes—those hadn’t changed one bit. they still held the same welcoming expression and warmth you remembered, the same warmth that persuaded you to believe that you and matt could have been something more. but that wasn’t possible, not in this lifetime at least.

you lightly swallowed, your eyes darting in different directions as your breathing grew slightly quicker. “matt.” you spoke, emptiness present in your tone. it felt…odd. the way you interacted with him felt nothing like when you and matt were kids, running around recklessly in his backyard. all the stupid arguments over mario kart, and so much more. nothing felt the same, and you were sure it wouldn’t ever feel the same ever again.

silence. complete silence. that was, until matt spoke. “you still drink caramel lattes?” he asked, nodding at the menu as he stepped closed to you, now standing next to you in the line. you blinked, caught off guard. “you still drink black coffee and pretend to like it?” you grinned. matt chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “yeah, some things never change i guess.” matt turned his head to look at you, giving you a somewhat smile.

but, things do change.

all you could think about was your past with matt. how you both talked every single day, how you once knew everything about each other—your fears, your dreams. the way you and matt were absolutely inseparable, everyone in both of your families knew it, and so did you. however, your lives changed. college and matt’s career drove the both of you in different directions. you and matt promised to stay in touch no matter what, but that quickly faded into distance, and silence.

“you live here again?” matt asked, shifting on his feet. you quickly nodded. “mhm, moved back here last year after i finished college, you?”

“y’know, me and my brothers are just visiting our parents for the weekend, then we’re gonna head back to LA.” matt said, glancing down at the ground as if he was unsure of what to say to you next. then, with a hesitant smile he finally spoke up. “do you maybe wanna…sit down and talk for a minute? it’d be nice to catch up.” matt asked. you hesitated. it would be easier to make an excuse, to walk away and let the past stay where it was. but, something in matt’s expression—the way his eyes softened as if he was pleading, made you nod.

the both of you ordered and collected your drinks, finding a small table by a window. and for the first time in years, you both talked, it felt genuine this time. you both talked and laughed about life, catching each other up on what had been going on with your lives for the past few years. somewhere between the occasional stolen glances and laughter, you had realized something. even though time had pulled the both of you apart, with matt smiling at you the way he used to, it didn’t feel so much like the end anymore.

after all, it felt like your friendship was just beginning again.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

[supercimi]

This drabble is inspired by this art by @dharmaart

Old friend

The passing times and years has taught me, many lessons.

Some cruel, other kind, all the time, every time.

There was always a lesson to be taught, be it with people, places, plants and especially with animals.

Although, I wouldn't know what any of it looks like, but I learned to guess its shape. However much I could

My hands would cradle every inch. Sometimes, I would hug what I could, if simply to gauge its size.

This method proved great with people and animals, but. It was pretty useless with some plants and constructions

Flowers felt incredibly soft while trees felt incredibly harsh, but much like constructions, I couldn't make out their proper size nor shape

Also, I can't gauge how big a house is by hugging it! I'm no giant!

But, what made me the happiest, is how easy it was to picture you my friend.

Your long mane and stout back, your goofy face and lively ears.

Although we couldn't speak the same language, I got you, and I felt that you got me as well.

Learning how to care for you was pretty hard, but not harder than getting to know you.

All those puzzling brushes you needed were nothing compared to your mischief!

Whenever I would pat your back, you would simply move until I was patting your head!

And whenever I needed to pick your hoofs, you would keep pulling them back every five minutes!

My dad told me that since you learned you could pull it back from me mid grooming, there was no stopping you from that trick, and he was right!!

Still, despite all those challenges, I cared for you myself!

At first, I needed someone to guide me through it, but time after time, I slowly got the hang of it, even if I couldn't see a thing.

All my life, I lived in dimmed night, I couldn't grasp any shape no matter how the others describe it to me, even when I cradled or hugged or touched whatever they described, it was simply a vague fog to my mind,

The only thing i could picture, is you.

Maybe it was all those times i needed to brush your mane, or the many times i walked by your side on the grounds, or even the playful moments when you would roll on the ground and gently tug me to your side.

Somehow or someway.

I knew how you looked like,

I was never someone to dabble in creative stuff, especially drawing, but just for today, i decided to draw how i pictured you to be.

As hard as it proved to be, I also found out how easily you come to mind. It made the process a little easier on my clumsy hands.

Even if i never saw you, even if i can never touch you again,even if we can't play together again.

In this piece of parchment, your memories will always stay. And last but not least, thank you, old friend.

For staying with me all this time, for trotting around with me all this time, it's okay now, it's alright now.

I still can't fathom having a partner other than you, but... little by little, I'm moving on

In my heart, i still pray that someday, a maybe far away someday, or who knows maybe a very near someday?

I pray that we meet again

Maybe then, i will be able to actually see you. To play with you and hug you, to give you all the scratches that you so love.

For all eternity, but, until then.

Goodbye, old friend.

A study of a horse drawn with pencil on paper

[starpoweredv1b]

have you ever thought of muscular MC

Like... Something about claymore wielding airheaded MC does things to me.

I'm sure it'd scratch something in the LL's brains too. Maybe Zayne's mommy issue having ass would dream of just being choked to literal death by the boobies. Sylus would probably love to wrestle and end up in physics breaking positions and end up gasping for air between MC's gargantuan muscular thighs.

Anywaysss, not as 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, but my brain juice is dry and my thighs happens to be thick with nothing to lay upon it

hi anon!! YOU'RE SO REAL ACTUALLY i have never thought about this but i feel like the boys would be so horny for a muscle mommy putting them in their place (believe it or not even xavier despite his dom-ish tendencies) this also made me think about mc pegging them while holding them in a headlock whewwwwww. thank you for planting this seed in my head actually. also i volunteer as tribute to lay upon thine thighs or however the saying goes ♡

the first time sylus is eating you out and you instinctively clench your thighs, he swears he felt all his sins be absolved and his soul instantly granted heaven. enveloped in you, tasting you, smelling you, he had never been so hard to the point of hurting in his goddamn life. he would have the most glazed dilated eyes as he goes pussy drunk, rutting the air pathetically the more you grinded on that crazy angled nose slope of his.

zayne would quite literally be the type to attempt to breastfeed from your tits i fear. and at work whenever someone mentions some biological terms for muscles, he might have to go rub one out in the toilet because he keeps thinking of the way your muscles ripple and tighten aroumd him when he's buried deep inside, waist crushed into nothing (because his waist was never there to begin with. body is tea as fuck). if you ever suggested pegging, he may or may not be extra sensitive and start cumming all over the sheets when you do.

xavier would be reluctant to openly agree for you to peg him but halfway through as his head is held in the crook of your bicep and elbows, thrusting into him with his ass smacking against the firm of your thighs. he would cum way too fast and way more than usual too. we're talking like big spurts. aftercare may or may not involve you having to let him fuck you like a rabbit during mating season because he has so much left to give and a huge favour to repay for making him go feral the way you did.

rafayel would be sending memes of being pegged and dommed by you as hints that are definitely anything but subtle. he'd be a literal housewife if you only asked. he would literally be so inspired and reverent of your physique he might make a statue of you based on an intimate polaroid of the view he has when you're giving his a firm thigh job. the way his dick slid against the ridges of your muscles, the way you were strong enough to hold him down when you're riding him, it makes him salivate everytime.

caleb is the type to loveeeee play fighting turned sex because let's be honest, that man is a freak of nature. he'd say he's way stronger than you, wrestling with lesser fear because he knows you can take it. so regardless of the end result, either him holding your thighs down and open as he carves your pussy out with his dick, fingers gripping the muscles and getting impossibly harder in your warm pussy, or you holding his head crushed against the valley of your tits as you bounce on his cock. to him, a win is a win.

[starmatzz]

Hiiiii

I NEED a smut inspired by the song "Let the world burn" and that new trending audio "loveyouloveyouloveyou" on dom yunho

IT SCREAMS CRAZYYYY

and maybe not jump into action right away a lil foreplay would be GREAT 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣

Let The World Burn

classmate!yunho x fem!reader | smut, 1.8k

nsfw tags dom/sub, vaginal sex, pet names, violence, death, possessive, stalking, ropes, bondage, orgasm, penetration, touching

You woke up on a cold, unforgiving floor. A dull ache pulsed through your body as you tried to move, but your arms wouldn’t budge—they were tightly bound. Panic rose in your chest as your mind struggled to piece together what had happened. The last thing you remembered was running.

Running through a dark alley.

Running from someone.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

A deep voice emerged from the shadows before the figure stepped forward. It was him.

Jeong Yunho—your classmate. The one you had caught staring at you far too often in class. The one who always seemed to be watching. And every time a guy showed interest in you, they mysteriously stopped coming to school the next day. Or came injured. 

Now you knew why.

Yunho’s eyes lingered on your face, his lips curling into a smile—one that sent a chill down your spine.

“I never wanted things to turn out this way,” he murmured, tilting his head. “But you left me no choice.”

It's dangerous 'cause I want it all

And I don't think I care what it costs

I shouldn't have fallen in love

Look what it made me become

His voice softened, almost gentle. “You love me, y/n. We belong together—you just don’t see it yet.”

Then, his smile widened, dark and unhinged. “But that’s okay. You’re here now. You can’t run anymore.” He took a slow step closer. “And I’ll make you understand.”

And I know you think you can run

You're scared to believe I'm the one

But I just can't let you go

“So… beautiful.”

His hands trembled as he reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t recoil—not with the ropes biting into your skin.

“Oh, almost forgot.”

Yunho suddenly pulled away, flashing you a smile before disappearing into the shadows. The moment he left, everything clicked. From the anonymous notes that kept appearing on your doorstep, through the unsettling feeling of being watched, to your underwear disappearing from the changing room after sports class while you were showering. 

It had all been him.

Before you could process it any further, Yunho returned—this time dragging someone with him. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Remember Yeosang?” he asked, his voice almost casual, as if discussing the weather. “He asked you to prom.”

Your stomach twisted as you took in the sight before you. Yeosang—bruised, bound, with tape covering his mouth—struggled against Yunho’s grip, his eyes wide with terror.

Yunho only smiled.

Fear in their eyes

Ash raining from the blood orange sky

I let everybody know that you're mine

Now it's just a matter of time

Without warning, Yunho pulled out a knife, the blade glinting under the dim light. Before you could react, he pressed it against Yeosang’s neck, his grip unyielding.

“No one can have you,” he growled, his voice laced with possessive fury. “Only me.”

Then, in one smooth motion, he dragged the blade across Yeosang’s throat.

A sickening sound filled the air—a wet, gurgling choke as Yeosang’s body convulsed. His wide, pleading eyes met yours for a fleeting second before the life drained from them. Blood spilled down his chest, soaking his shirt, pooling at his feet.

Yunho let him go, and his body crumpled to the floor with a dull thud.

You couldn’t breathe. The room spun.

But Yunho? He simply wiped the blade clean, turning back to you with that same twisted smile.

I'd let the world burn

Let the world burn for you

This is how it always had to end

If I can't have you then no one can

Yunho let the bloodied knife fall to the floor with a soft clang, his focus shifting entirely to you. Slowly, he stepped forward, closing the distance before kneeling beside you.

His hand reached out, his thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip. The touch was gentle—almost tender—yet it sent a wave of dread coursing through your veins.

“P-Please… don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath.

Yunho’s expression flickered, his brows knitting together as if your words had wounded him. Then, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Hurt you?” he repeated, his tone almost incredulous. “Darling, I would never.”

He tilted his head, his dark eyes searching yours. “How could I? You mean everything to me.”

As if to prove his point, he cupped your cheek, his touch featherlight. But no matter how softly he spoke, no matter how tender his caress seemed, the blood still stained his hands.

Yunho's palm slid down to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your pink shirt, his touch possessive and sure. Raw desire blazed in his eyes as he watched you, like a predator who had finally cornered its prey. Your breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze.

“You're so beautiful,” he growled, squeezing your breast until you gasped. His hand traveled lower, trailing fire across your stomach before finding the hem of your skirt. His fingers teased along your thigh, making promises his touch would soon fulfill.

“So pretty..my pretty girl, all mine,” he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. One hand held you firmly, fingers tangled in your hair, while the other remained poised, as if daring you to challenge his claim. 

His hand ventured beneath your skirt, but you reacted swiftly, clamping your legs together and bending your knee to kick him in the stomach.

"Don't you dare touch me," you warned, your voice steady and firm despite the adrenaline coursing through you. Yunho's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and something else flickering in their depths. 

Yunho huffed, clutching his stomach as he stumbled back, surprise etched across his features. But the shock quickly morphed into anger, and his eyes darkened, a storm brewing within them. The air between you crackled with tension, his fury palpable as he regained his footing, the predator in him reawakened.

“I wanted to make it nice for the both of us,” he growled, rolling up the sleeves of his button up, “but you're not leaving me with any other alternative.”

With that, he took steps forward, pushing up the fabric of your skirt before ripping your panties in one swift motion. 

“Whore..” He mumbled under his breath, his breathing growing heavier as his fingers fumbled in his pocket. You barely had time to react before he pulled out a roll of black tape, his hands shaking slightly—whether from excitement or something more unhinged, you couldn’t tell.

With an eerie sort of patience, he tore off a strip, the sharp rip of adhesive filling the tense silence.

He grinned, pressing the tape firmly over your lips. His touch lingered for a second, as if savoring the way your breath hitched beneath his fingertips.

Your muffled whimper was the only sound you could make now. Panic surged through you, your body twisting instinctively against the ropes, but it was useless.

He shouted directly at you, his finger jabbing towards Yeosang's motionless form on the ground, exclaiming, “What do the other guys have that I lack?!”

He forced himself between your legs, before grasping your bound arms and securing them above your head, unzipping his jeans.

“Fuck, you're all pink down there,” he exhaled, his eyes focused on your private part, “It's a pity I'm going to ruin this pretty cunt right now.”

He didn't hesitate for a moment; he pushed in immediately. You whimpered over the tape as the pressure and burning sensation overwhelmed you, and you instinctively tried to squirm away.

Yunho groaned. The warmth and wetness of your pussy was driving him insane. He proceeded, his long fingers grabbing your hips in a bruising grip as he set a steady rhythm. 

He pounded into you, his gaze locked onto your face, drinking in every trace of fear.

You couldn’t bear it—the pain was unbearable. Strands of hair clung to your damp skin as your body trembled, shaken by both agony and fear. 

“Love you, love you… I love you so much,” he babbled, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush, as if trying to make you understand the depth of his obsession.

Nails dug into your palms as Yunho refused to stop, his hands pressing firmly against your shoulders. He grabbed you tightly, fucking deep into you. You could feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix, causing a piercing pain to wash all over your body. 

“Did it hurt?” he cooed, his voice laced with mock sympathy because repeating the same movement over and over. 

“You’re mine, y/n. Finally mine,” he murmured, his voice filled with possession. “See? We fit perfectly together.”

He looked down, watching his cock disappear in your pussy. The way you stretched around him, how you cried and whimpered, it was all his fuel. Keeping his gaze on your face as he moved his hands from your shoulders, he gently cradled your breasts, squeezing them. 

Yunho continued fucking into you, curses and moans escaping his lips. He leaned closer, sucking and biting the soft skin on your neck, below your ear and over your collarbone. 

“Oh god..I'm close..” he whimpered, his eyebrows pulling in in taunt as his thrusts have become twitchy. Your sweet scent enveloped him, sending a dizzying rush through his body, as if every nerve was awakened at once, leaving him lightheaded and lost in the intoxicating fragrance of you.

His large hand slid up your thigh, his grip tightening as he squeezed. “Fuck, look how deep I am in your pretty cunt...” he breathed out, massaging the bulge in your abdomen. 

You laid there, motionless, waiting for him to finish, the stillness pressing down on you.

“Your eyes are mesmerizing,” he murmured, leaning in, his fingers softly brushing the hair from your face. “I wish I could see you look at me like this every day.”

He slowly withdrew, his cock rubbing against your velvety walls, before forcefully slamming back in. You cried out, the sound muffled by the tape, as your hands shook uncontrollably from the excruciating pain, each tremor making the ache feel even more unbearable.

“Ah..fuck!” Yunho suddenly groaned, staying buried deep inside you. His hips twitches as he came hard, filling you up. 

“So pretty…” he mumbled, his breath shallow as he struggled to regain control, his gaze never leaving you. He pulled out, watching the strings of thick cum connecting his tip and your pulsating slit. 

Suddenly he pushed back in, rolling his hips in circles as he continued fucking you through his orgasm. “Don’t think we’re over, princess,” he smirked, his eyes glinting as he watched the fear spread across your face. Your eyes widened in realization, and deep down, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon.

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* Fluff, sweetness, flirting, crushes, reader's meddling bestie. Summary: Waking up beside your soulmate the morning after your wedding, you reflect on the meetings that brought you here. Notes: Welcome to a new story, friends! We're using date stamps as we tell this story, as scenes may appear out of chronological order. Enjoy!

Saturday, April 6, 2024

Normally waking up is hard for Javi. Too used to having his own schedule, late nights and lazy mornings. Things have changed over the past few years, the loss of his family fortune and business. Not that he minded no longer being the face of an arms dealer family, even if he wasn’t the one selling the weapons. That was his now incarcerated cousin, Lucas’s doing.

No, now waking up meant an alarm instead of the fragrant smell coffee being brought by a servant, he had to get up and make it himself if he wants.

This morning, this morning his eyes are open before the sun even thinks about peeking over the horizon. The early morning lighting up gradually as he watches your face, so peaceful in sleep. His soulmate. His wife.

Sunrise isn't normally your wakeup call. The mornings are always an early start for you because you like to get as much out of your day as you possibly can. It's been so many years of it now that you even wake up early on the weekends – but not today.

A rare morning of sleeping in means that the bright sun streaming through the windows penetrates your sleep to warm your dreams and drift you closer to reality. Although really, the thing that wakes you is the shifting of the mattress. The last time you shared a bed with anyone before last night was...a year ago? More?

But when you open your eyes, knowing it's your soulmate next to you is so exhilarating.

“Good morning.” Javi’s smile is bright, radiant like the sun as he reaches out and caresses your cheek. “How did you sleep? I think I only slept for two hours but it was the best two hours of my life.”

"Good morning." Like a magnet, you slide towards him on the mattress to tuck yourself into his side. "It's a whole new day. What did you want to do with it?" Neither of you have to work, so it's just...going to be beautiful all on its own.

“I should treat you today, no?” He asks with a grin. “It is technically our honeymoon?” The ring on your finger is just barely ten hours old, the excitement of that fact still humming through his system and coming off as nervous energy.

"We've got a whole weekend to do whatever we want." Honeymoon. It's your honeymoon. The last twenty-four hours have been a complete whirlwind. This time yesterday you were already at work. "I feel silly asking but...what do you like to do for fun?"

“Watching movies.” Javi admits shamelessly, although he no longer has the movie theatre he once did. “What is your favorite movie?”

"Oh gosh, that's such a hard question." Shamelessly happy that you can do so, you lay a kiss on his shoulder and gaze up at him.

Your soulmate is so fucking handsome. How did you get so lucky?

"Maybe..." You laugh at how ridiculously hard it is to choose. "I think I have more like a top three. And they rotate depending on what kind of mood I'm in. But one of the top three is always The Princess Bride."

“That is a good one.” He grins, happy that you seem to light up and have a hard time choosing. “I always liked Wesley.” He admits shamelessly and winks at you. “As you wish.”

"Hush." Even though you nudge him a little, your warm cheeks have nothing to do with the morning sun. It's all mixed in with the dreamy expression on your face as you talk with him. Your husband. Your soulmate. "What's your favourite movie?"

“You must promise not to laugh.” He tells you seriously, although there is humor twinkling in the depths of his dark eyes as he gazes into your hauntingly beautiful ones. “Paddington 2.” He admits, his tone flat and honest.

“Why would I laugh? That’s such a sweet movie!” Daring to reach up to brush a curl out of his eyes, you end up smiling all over again. “I…actually really love watching kids’ movies. They’re great for comfort and cheering me up when I don’t feel too good.”

“They teach us lessons we could all use.” He agrees, capturing your hand and kissing the back of it. “We can watch them together. Snuggled up.”

“That sounds perfect.” Practically everything he suggests sounds perfect, and it’s not just the gorgeous purr of his accent. “It can be a sweet way of unwinding at night.”

“You would not mind?” He asks, brows raised and a hopefully look on his face. “I wish I had my old movie theatre, but we can turn the second bedroom into a viewing room?”

"You..." Confusion makes your eyebrows draw in. "Used to have your own movie theater?"

He tilts his head. “Of course.” He nods. “I will have to build one again. It will not be as big as the one in Spain, but the house will be much smaller too.” He sighs softly, feeling a little bit like a failure for not being able to give you the things he once had. Before he ever knew you carried his marks. “But maybe one day, no?”

"If it will make you happy, then we will absolutely do that." There are plenty of things that you don't know about each other yet, but you have every confidence that you'll be able to settle into things together well. You're soulmates, after all. You're meant to be together. "I just...I've never known anyone who had their own movie theater before. That sounds so fancy."

“It was a large house.” He admits, frowning slightly. He loved the house, hated the bad memories of some of the things that happened there. Although it was never all bad. “You know, Nic Cage came to my birthday party there?” He asks. “It’s how we met.”

"Is it really?" He had told you that they were friends -- hell, the Cages had come to your wedding last night -- but it was still something that you were wrapping your head around.

“Yes.” He chuckles. “I paid him one million dollars to come to my birthday, and somehow, we became friends.”

Your eyes widen, catching on a breath of disbelief. "So that's how you get a movie star to come to your birthday? Color me impressed."

He hums. “Back then, yes.” He admits, leaning in and kissing your shoulder gently. “Now, they are starting to want to come on their own. Not because I pay them.” He doesn’t have the money to do that anymore.

"You're an amazing writer. I'm sure you're just at the start of something really grand." The two movies he has had made so far have both been fantastic. You went home and watched them back-to-back after the first time he told you he was a screenwriter. "I consider myself very lucky that I'll get to be beside you during all of it."

“Really?” His eyes widen, as if he had never really considered that you would be happy to have him as your soulmate. “You want to be beside me?”

It almost makes you laugh, but the wonder on his face is so genuinely sweet that it sort of comes out as a sound of disbelief. "Of course," you promise him, and take his hand to hold both his and your left hands in his view. The hands bearing your brand new wedding rings. "That's what this means."

“Married.” The word is whispered, almost reverently, as if he is still in disbelief that it was ever possible. For him, it had started to look that way. He had loved Gabriella and had been determined to be a good partner no matter if they had not shared marks, but she had left him. He had floundered slightly, bemoaning love and at the encouragement of Nic to start working on his next screen play, he had stumbled upon the soulmate he had always yearned for.

******

Tuesday, February 14, 2023 Valentine's Day

The slowest pay of the week for the museum seems punctuated with particularly melancholy moments today. There was a private tour this morning with a proposal, and the squealing bride-and-groom-to-be had been allowed to take photos together on the grand staircase before regular visitors began arriving for the day. Their family and friends had been hiding in the house, waiting for the moment, all ready to burst out and shout with joy after the question was asked and answered. It had left you with a migraine.

Another lover had popped their question to her beloved out in the gardens while you were trying to get some fresh air on your short morning break. You'd fled back to the breakroom and hung your head in your hands for the rest of your fifteen minutes of quiet.

Now, in the middle of the afternoon, there are so many couples on dates strolling through the halls of Hazelwood House that it felt like an intentional taunt. Being fresh off a breakup at Valentine's Day is no one's idea of a good time. So you just pace your area, walking through the three rooms of the house museum that are under your care for this hour, and hope that the floor just opens up to swallow you whole.

Which is how you accidentally walked straight into a guest.

"Oh! Excuse me! I'm so sorry, that was entirely my fault."

Javi Gutierrez manages to keep himself from stumbling but immediately reaches out to steady you. “No, no, I was wandering around.” He shakes his head, ready to take the blame himself as his eyes meet yours and he swears that his heart skips a beat. He straightens slightly, still holding your arms. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, as if you had been injured by the minor collision.

"I'm totally fine." Shaken, sure, but only because of your own clumsiness and the fact that you just had to bump into the hottest guy you've ever seen in your entire life. "I—I'm sorry." Come on, get it together. "I was distracted." Lie, for fuck's sake. "I just noticed a little detail in the flooring that I had never seen before."

“The floor?” Javi frowns as he looks down at the intricate tiles beneath both of your feet. “What about the floor?” He asks curiously, wondering if it is something special.

"Well..." It's nerdy. It's so nerdy. But there actually is something special about the mosaic tile in this particular room of the house. "The billiard room is covered in mosaic, but I've never paid much attention to the grain of the marble before." An utter lie, you stare at it every day. "Do you see the swirls of blue and gray here? It's the same marble as the fireplace."

Instead of looking at you like you are crazy, Javi squats down and brushes his fingers over the glazed tiles, staring at the colorful patterns for a long moment, memorizing them. Then he lifts his head to stare at the fireplace. “So they tiled the mosaic with marble instead of regular tiles?” He asks, trying to follow.

"It looks like it." He gets excited easily, this incredibly handsome man, and it relaxes you a little. Guests who get excited about little details are one of the things you love most about working in a museum. "Now I'm thinking about taking a photo of the different colors and comparing them to the other fireplaces in the house."

“Can you backtrack through the house?” He looks around worried for a moment and then back at you. “The guides won’t get mad?”

"You're only a few rooms in, I can walk you back to the first fireplace if you'd like?" That would be the breakfast room, which is an easy stroll backward from where you are now and you point it out to him on the map that is printed on the packet of information in his hand. It seems he opted not to download the audio tour as so many do.

He tilts his head, contemplating it seriously. “Then we should do it, no?” He asks. “See if it matches? It should, or no? Maybe it depends on the style of the room?”

"Let's find out, if you're curious. We can check the three fireplaces in this section of the house and you can compare the pictures you take here to the others as you keep moving through the house." You would walk with him, guide him yourself, because it's just so nice to stumble upon someone nice and not on a date today...but abandoning your area of the house would get you in a hell of a lot of trouble.

“Okay.” He smiles at you and wonders if you are waiting for your partner to arrive. It’s Valentine’s Day after all and he had thought to distract himself with work. “The house is very, um, nice.” He says as you start to steer him back towards the other rooms. Small talk can be awkward and he’s not as good as it as he would like at times. Nervous about making a negative impression.

"The whole place is gorgeous." The grounds are a popular tourist attraction, with plenty of weddings and other parties happening on the grounds in addition to the mansion being a museum. "Have you ever visited Hazelwood Park before?"

“This is my first time.” Javi confesses. “I have heard of it, but woke up this morning and decided today was the day.” He had honestly figured there wouldn’t be a lot of couples here. He had been wrong.

"Well, welcome." Back in the breakfast room, you turn to face the soft green marble fireplace. "This does look like the same green of the turtle in the mosaic," you admit. The shades are remarkably similar.

“So they matched the edging of this floor to the fireplace.” The entire floor isn’t a mosaic, but the banding around the edges is. “This fireplace is larger.” He tilts his head. “Perhaps they did not have enough of the leftovers to use, hm?”

"If they only used the pieces that were considered scrap during the carving of the fireplaces, then it would make sense that they wouldn’t have any large pieces." The thin tile line around the otherwise parquet flooring has always charmed you unexpectedly. You had never seen anything like it before.

“It is a good way to use up all the materials.” He agrees. “Because I’m assuming the marble was imported?” It’s nothing he’s ever considered before but your enthusiasm for the details excites him.

"Oh yes, absolutely." In fact, you had had to memorize where all of it came from as part of your knowledge test to be a full-fledged docent. "This particular stone comes from Italy."

“You know a lot about this.” He smiles. “Is the house a favorite place to visit for you?”

"Oh!" You break out into a nervous laugh and realize that this entire time, the nametag and lapel pin that you wear on your cardigan marking you as an employee haven't been visible. "No, I--I work here. I've been here about a year now."

“Oh…oh I am sorry.” He bites his lip as he tries to hide the embarrassed grin. “I didn’t realize. I thought you were just an enthusiast.”

"Being an enthusiast is sort of how I got the job," you admit. Shrugging your shoulders, you straighten out your cardigan again and do up one button to make sure both pins stay visible. "It turns out that I really love it. Beyond just thinking the place is beautiful."

“That explains your comment about this section of the house.” He chuckles, wiping his hands on his pants and shoving them in his pockets. “I had assumed you were waiting on someone. Now I know that’s it’s other tour groups.

"Have to stay in my section." A light, awkward laugh travels between you but even that little sound from him sounds angelic. "But if you like these first few rooms, then you'll love the rest of the house."

“Which is your favorite room?” He asks, looking down at his map.

"Today?" You laugh a little, emboldened by the way he seems to smile with his whole face. Like he really doesn't mind talking to you. Like he might even enjoy it. "I love them all, but I think the library might be the best part of the whole house."

“Do you like to read?” He asks, charmed by your laugh and the way you seem to light up at the question. As if you aren’t normally asked a personal question. “The library was always where I was chided, but then it was also where I could escape into different worlds when I couldn’t do other things.”

"That's the beauty of books." Something you believe unabashedly. Stories are an escape -- whether that is books or movies or plays, or whatever else. "Being able to run away into a different world is powerful. It's freeing." Warmth creeps up your neck and into your cheeks and you nearly feel embarrassed for getting so excited about it except that he's still smiling. "The library in this house? I would curl up in front of that fireplace with a stack of books beside me on the chaise lounge and one of those little table all covered in the blue China from the butler's pantry and a whole plate of scones. I would just stay there all day and night."

“That sounds perfect.” He hums. “With the fire built up?”

“Oh, of course.” The scenario has played out in your head a thousand times, and one day you might just have to go antiquing for your own chaise so you can fulfill it. Of course…you’ll also need a home legitimate enough to have a fireplace. Not your shitty little studio apartment.

“Storm beating against the windows?” It would be a miracle in California, but he could imagine it in the setting of his latest screenplay. “Or snow?”

"Oh, it's been years since I saw a good snowstorm. I used to hate them, but I sort of miss it."

“I have not ever lived somewhere where there was snow.” He admits with a small shrug. “It is beautiful in pictures but I do not think it would be fun to have every day.”

"Oh, it's definitely not." Not even a little, and your immediate answer elicits laughs from both of you. "My favorite was when I was going to college in Boston and the college dug out our sidewalks for us. All the beauty of snow with none of the work."

“That is probably the best way to have the snow.” He admits with a laugh.

"Well..." Realizing you've probably monopolized enough of this extremely handsome, extremely charming man's time, you offer him a smile and try to smother the butterflies accumulating in the pit of your stomach. He has the most beautiful, soulful eyes you've ever seen. "Enjoy the rest of the museum. Take an extra look at the library when you pass through the south wing and you'll see what I mean about it being comfy."

He’s entirely disappointed to realize that he’s being dismissed. Enjoying the way you banter with him, he wishes he could ask you to give him the tour of the entire house so he could continue talking. Feeling more at ease with you than he has with anyone ever. “Thank you.” He hums softly. “I hope you have a wonderful day, full of beauty.”

"You too." You flounder for a few seconds, but you know you'll get in trouble if your supervisor sees you on the surveillance cameras talking to the same guest for too long, so you gently extract yourself to stroll as casually as possible back into the corner of the great hall that is included in your area of the house right now.

Javi watches you walk off and he sighs before he looks down at the map and pulls out his phone to take pictures of the rooms. Your attention to detail will have to be included in the film.

******

Saturday, December 23, 2023

It's the Christmas season the next time you see him, when the house is all done up in twinkling lights and wreaths with trimmed trees in almost every room. Bowls of chestnuts and pine cones and cherries replace the usual decorative hazelnuts and oranges. Pine boughs and poinsettias instead of big, beautiful flower arrangements. It's a nice change of pace, honestly, and on the weekends guests can buy tickets to the after-hours light display on the grounds. Out in the garden there are even refreshments and music plays from the trees that drip with even more lights.

Javier tucks into his light jacket. It’s not completely necessary, but it helps the spirit of the season. The lights are beautiful and he’s heard that the decorations are truly a sight to see.

The music outside just reminds you of the years that you worked in retail -- repetitive and sickly sweet Christmas songs pouring through speakers, but you dole out cups of cocoa and coffee at one of the refreshment tables outside with good enough spirits. There's bits of broken cookie to sneak every now and then, and the little gingerbread men are tasty morsels when you and the other docent working at the table can grab them.

“You were right about the library.” He hadn’t been looking for you. At least that’s what he tells himself, although he lights up for some reason when he recognizes you. “It’s perfect for a cozy day reading.”

"You..." It takes all you've got not to grab your friend's hand beside you, as the specter of the random guest you've had a crush on for almost a year materializes in front of you. "You remembered?" The full sentence is 'You remembered me?' but you don't say that.

He grins bashfully as he steps up to the table and looks down at the cookies and paper cups, trying to keep from staring at how pretty you are. Javi’s been around gorgeous women, but there’s something about the naked honest in your eyes that makes him feel almost feverish. “Of course I did.” He chuckles. “I went back through to find you that day, but you must have already gone home.”

“We move around the house every hour. To keep on our toes and so we don’t stare at the same set of walls the whole day.” Did he get even more attractive since last time? That would be so unfair. Criminally unfair, actually. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Enough to come back, even.”

“I had to see it during Christmas.” It also got him out of the tiny cottage he lives in. Around other people. Hopefully to distract from the loneliness of the holiday. “I don’t know if this might not be the best look for this place. Although I see it with candles lit all around.”

“It’s perfect in spring,” you tell him all too quickly, and end up flustering yourself so you have to tear your eyes away from his to look down at the grounds gather your damn wits back. “I mean…in early spring is when all the orange and hazelnut trees blossom. That’s how the property got its name. Hazelwood Park.”

“Is that so? I will have to check it out.” He looks suitably impressed and then motions to the table. “So, um, how much for a cookie and a cup of coffee?” He asks, not sure what else to say, but wanting to continue the conversation.

"Oh, they're free for guests. Help yourself." Your coworker offers helpfully, seeing you fluster and thoroughly enjoying the level of teasing that is going to happen after work tonight. "Why don't you take your break while we have a lull?" She suggests, practically batting her eyelashes with glee over the suggestion.

"Thanks, Moira," you hum with a tone that suggests you're going to kill her later. Then again? She has a point. These days that there are special events at work can be long. You've been on your feet for hours.

Javi is disappointed, sure that you will disappear on him since you have a chance to get off your feet and possibly get something to eat or drink yourself. “Oh, um, okay.” He takes a cup of be coffee and a cookie. “Thanks.”

"Make sure to show him your bench!" Moira suggests, far too loudly and excitedly to not be obvious, as she thrusts a cup of cocoa and a gingerbread man into your hands.

“Your bench?” He could kiss your friend for giving him something to grasp on to in order to keep the conversation going. “What is your bench?”

"It's...it's over on the west side of the property." You gesture to the left of were you're both standing and try to suppress the giddy and awkward shivers running up and down your spine. "Do you...would you want to walk?"

“Are you sure you want to?” He asks seriously, happy about spending time with you but it’s your break. “You don’t want to rest?”

"Benches are made for resting." Now that the chance has presented itself, you would actually be pretty bummed to miss out on the chance to chat with him again. And, in all honesty, you're pretty sure it's not your break at all. Moira just threw you out of the nest like a mama bird.

“Okay.” He agree to that easily and shifts to move the cookie into the same hand as his coffee to offer you his arm. “Lead the way.”

The chivalrous gesture damn near makes your knees buckle, and you follow suit. Shifting your snack into one hand lets you take his arm to lead him toward the ocean. "It's just...where I like to come sit." Of course it is. You groan at yourself internally. What else would you do at a bench but sit? "I take my lunch out here sometimes and things like that."

“So it’s your special place.” He likes the sound of that. Showing him something that you might not show every guest.

"I suppose you could say that." It's only a touch chilly tonight and the breeze coming off the ocean is welcoming. "It's a nice place to sit and think. To just watch the ocean and...dream."

“Hopefully the dreams are nice ones.” He offers, wondering what you might dream about. “Having a quiet place to think is always a good thing. I used to sit out at the cliffs and dream, plot, plan.”

"Cliffs?" Hazelwood Park is more or less on a cliffside, and you motion out toward the ocean again. "Like this one?"

“A little larger than this one.” He smiles as he thinks back to jumping off the cliff with Nic. “Mallorca has cliffs that go hundreds of meters in the air.” He tells you. “Some so steep you would be terrified to slip off the edge.”

“Mallorca?” Spanish. Damn. They really do make hotter men in Europe. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful there. You…traded one beautiful place to live for another?”

He shrugs slightly. “Hard to write movies anywhere else but Hollywood, no?”

“Hard, but not impossible.”

So there it is. Even the screenwriters in Hollywood are sexy. Maybe you should be grateful to live so close by, then? Southern California does have some fun things that back home didn’t. Rather than fawn over him — that’s never been your style — you just smile. “So you like libraries and you’re a writer. Stories run through your veins.”

“I would live in them if I could.” He admits wistfully. The little bench is drawing closer and he can see from the view from this point why you would like it. It’s a stunning place to look out over the water. The wind just a touch brisk as it ruffles his hair. The smell of the saltwater taking over.

“Me too.” And for reasons you can’t quite discern, you just keep talking. “That’s why I like history so much. It’s all just stories. Especially in big houses like this. Somebody’s whole life — their whole story �� is wrapped up in that house.”

“And do you sometimes pretend you are the lady of the house?” He asks, imagining you in the skirts from that time.

"It would be sort of a shame to dream about the place and not dream the grand, elegant things. Wouldn't it?" When you reach the bench together, he seems to set you down first, letting you settle, and then sits beside you. "I think it's romantic. Curtis Hollingsworth built the place as a birthday gift for his wife. They were outgrowing their home because they were pregnant again, and he'd made millions helping to turn Santa Barbara into a spa town." The soft smile on your face is whimsical, but you can't help it. "Apparently, she loved oranges and hazelnuts. Which is why the trees are everywhere."

“He brought those to her.” He looks out over the water and takes a sip of the rich coffee. At least they had served a strong brew instead of something heartbreakingly weak. “To build a house for someone you love is a perfect way to show it.” He frowns slightly, remembering that he has a building site that was halted before the foundation was ever poured.

“It’s certainly a grand gesture.” Something in his tone and manner makes you hesitate, but you don’t know this man nearly well enough to ask a single personal question so you try to just press past it. “Of course, grand gestures aren’t the only way of showing love. Not by any means. But they do make wonderful stories.”

“Sometimes it’s just listening.” He agrees, thinking about how things between him and Gabriella had turned after moving to L.A. two years ago. She had been uninterested in the future he envisions and started working towards. Stopped talking to him about anything that wasn’t part of her own interests. He had tried to course correct, but it had ultimately not meant to be.

“I couldn’t agree more.” This time you do chance to look at him — sharp jaw and soft cheeks outlined against the night sky like a fully grown cherub, golden brown curls neatly and artfully tousled and waving in the breeze. He looks like a Romantic painting. “Lots of people talk about communication but not enough realize listening is included in that.”

His eyes find yours again, seeing the softness and understanding swimming in their depths and he feels like bearing his soul to you. “Is it probably the most important part.” He admits. “The world would be better if people understood that.”

“Again…” you swallow hard, feeling your mouth has run dry and chest fairly ripped open with the feeling of familiarity. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The silence falls between you. It’s not unpleasant, it’s almost hesitant. As if both of you are afraid of disturbing the uncluttered beauty of the moment as the waves crash against the coast at the wind batters playfully against your cheeks. Javi breaks off a piece of the cookie and dips it onto the coffee.

“You chose a beautiful night to come visit.” It’s clear and typically warm despite the ocean breeze, and even in the end of December, Southern California is a beautiful place to be. He could have gone to any of a thousand places but he chose to come here, and a small voice in the back of your head wonders — hopes — that maybe you had a part in making this place happy for him.

“I was compelled to come back.” He admits softly, looking over at you for a moment before breaking off the gaze to look out at the sea again.

“The house is like that.” When he looks away, you do too. “It draws people in.”

It’s not the house, but it would sound crazy to say that he wanted to see you again. Instead he hums. “I don’t think it’s just the house.”

“Well…” If you wanted to take that to heart, you feel like you could. It wouldn’t be difficult to give yourself that little bit of hope. But despite being easy, it would probably be very foolish. “I hope it helps you miss home a little less to sit on these cliffs, instead.”

“I think it does.” He takes the bite of the cookie and groans happily. “These are good.”

“Gingerbread is highly underrated,” you agree, and take a bite of your own after dipping it into your cup of cocoa. “I get why they’re seasonal but I wish I could find them so easily all year long.”

“Yes.” He agrees. “They would be good anytime.”

“What’s your favourite kind of cookie?” The question is innocuous enough, but you find yourself curious anyway. Curious to know about anything he feels like telling you.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder innocently. “A good chocolate chip cookie is always a comfort.” He admits. “Sometimes the simple things are the best.” He twists his head and looks over to you. “What is yours?”

“Have you ever heard of a hermit cookie?” You ask, raising an eyebrow, and grinning in amusement when he looks confused. “It’s a soft, spice cookie. Like gingerbread. Sometimes with raisins and nuts in it. They’re a bit old fashioned, but wonderful with coffee.”

“They sound like I should try some.” He would try anything you recommend right now, a fact that should scare him but it doesn’t. “How old are the cookies?” He asks, thinking about his screenplay.

“They’re from the 1880s or 90s, I think?” It does not escape your amusement or notice that this is the same time that the house you work in was built. “I don’t know if they’ve ever been popular outside of New England, but we do love them there.”

He hums and takes note of that. Deciding he will research it. “Hermit cookies.” He repeats. “Are there recipes for this? Online?”

"Probably." His entire attention has now focused in on this just because you said it was your favorite cookie and that makes you smile in a way you can't quite explain.

“Then I will have to look it up.” He smiles as he takes another sip of his coffee. “I like researching things. It is very interesting. Like your marble mosaic tiles.”

"You researched the tiles?" It's the sort of thing that you would only think of you or your coworkers doing, but hearing that he has enjoyed his time in the house -- and possibly with you -- so much warms your heart.

“It was interesting to learn how they chose the marbles.” He nods. “I never imagined a trip to Europe to pick out building materials.”

"It's a heck of a reason for a vacation," you agree, laughing slightly at the opulence of it all.

“Yes. And trips would take months.” He chuckles.

"I can't even imagine." To take a vacation at all would be a miracle. But one that was months long? It sounds positively absurd to your ear.

“Do you think they ever got bored?” He asks curiously. “Or tired of being away from home?”

"I have to imagine that they did." It's a question you've thought on more than you want to admit, but the stories in your head are always about everyday things. Wondering what the mundane things were like. "If I had a home like this I can't imagine ever wanting to be away from it. But I suppose the right person can make anything worthwhile."

“Were they soulmates?” He asks softly, having avoided the personal backgrounds of the homeowners when taking the tour. He had tried to keep his own characters in mind.

“They were. And when they left the house to their daughter, she married her soulmate here. And then her daughter married her soulmate here, as well. The house has a history of lifelong loves.”

“That is nice.” His tone is wistful. “I don’t know if I will ever meet my soulmate.” Javi confides, normally keeping that information to himself but he blurts it out. “I worry about it sometimes.”

“I don’t know a single person who hasn’t worried about it at some point.” Even your sister, who said she didn’t mind not marrying her soulmate as long as the woman she found was a loving partner, had been thoroughly overjoyed when she had found her now wife on Mate Marks. Everyone thinks about it — worries about it — even if they don’t want to admit it. “I wouldn’t worry, if I were you.” You offer him a smile, knowing you’ve gone over your fifteen minutes for your break and not wanting to be caught flirting with a guest on company time. “Whoever you do find is going to be very lucky to have you.”

He smiles again. “Have you found yours?” He figures you probably have, you are beautiful and captivating.

"Not yet." Even though you'd rather not, you stand from the bench. "I don't know if I ever will. Only time will tell."

“I know you have to go back to work.” Javi leaps off the bench and shuffles, wishing he could ask you to stay. “Thank you for showing me this place.” He bites his lip. “Uh, can I walk you back?”

The warmth rushes back to your cheeks, and you practically squirm with delight. "Thank you. I'd like that."

He offers his arm again, taking your empty hot cocoa cup from you to hold with his own trash. “Imagine the parties they used to hold here.” He breathes out as the two of you turn back towards the house.

"We're setting up an exhibit with some of the gowns. It's meant to open in about six weeks." You light up with that fact, excited to see all the swishing gowns and glimmering jewels for yourself. "Descendents of the family donated a large collection of clothing, shoes, and jewelry to the museum this part year."

“Wow.” He chuckles, thinking about the parties he would throw when he was pretending to be an olive oil exporter. He’s much happier being a screen writer, even if he can’t afford those parties and bought friends anymore. “That was generous of them.”

"They say the most spectacular pieces are still privately owned by the family, but the things I've seen so far have been absolutely gorgeous." If you're a little dreamy-eyed at the prospect, he doesn't seem to mind.

“It sounds like you would have loved to live during that time.” He smiles, knowing that he will have to insist the movie be filmed here.

"I'm probably overly romanticizing it," you admit. But the tent is in view already and you hate the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that wonders if he'll ever come back again. "I hope—" Biting back what you really hope, you go for a polite encouragement instead, "That the things you've found in your research have given you plenty to think about. And maybe romanticized it for you, too."

“It has.” Even if you have no interest in him, you’ve given him a focal point for his movie. “Thank you. This is a magical place.”

"Then I hope you'll come back again." At least in that you can be honest. There is nothing you would like more than to see him again.

“Really?” He’s surprised by your comment. Unless you are just being polite.

"Really." You promise him, but at the edge of the refreshments tent, you have to let his arm go.

He’s disappointed by the loss of your fingers on his jacket. “Well. I hope the rest of your night is magical.” He offers, bowing slightly and smiling at you.

"I can all but guarantee it now." One more smile. One more lingering, dopey smile, and you know you have to tear yourself away. "Have a good night..." Oh no. Have you really gone and sat and flirted with this man for your whole break and not even learned his name?

He nods and turns away, sure that it would be rude to try to extend the conversation. He will just have to go home and write about this, working it into the plot of his movie somehow.

******

Monday, June 10, 2024

The email went out before opening time, when only your bosses were up in the offices and the docent core hadn’t gotten to work yet. You’d nearly crashed your car in excitement while CarPlay read the email out to you on the highway.

A movie. An actual Hollywood movie is coming to film at the museum!

The second you clocked in and sprinted to the break room to put your things away, you almost clobbered Moira with squealed, giddy glee.

“Did you hear?? Did you see Leslie’s email?!”

“Oh my god, yesssss.” She lights up and nods quickly. “It’s a movie by that guy who did the Nic Cage movie a couple of years ago.” She informs you. “The one that won an Oscar and restarted that man’s career?” After a long slump of bad movies, the older actor had exploded back on the scene, apparently full of new life and motivation for his trade.

“I can’t wait until we find out more!” Being able to hug your friend and squeal together is such a rush. The two of you have become joined-at-the-hip work friends to the point where the friendship has bled into everyday life. “A name, a plot, any of the stars?”

“Actors.” She sighs dreamily. “Imagine if your soulmate or mine, is an actor who comes to film?” She loves the glitz and glam of Hollywood and always secretly imagined being an actress herself, although she’s realistic enough to understand that it would be impossible to have happen.

“Maybe yours will be.” You laugh, hugging her again before you have to break away to pull your radio headset out of your bag. There is still work to do today, desire the excitement. “You’ll have to make sure you always wear your hair up so your tattoo is visible.” The little raven behind her ear would be a hell of a lot easier to show off than the tarot card on her though, anyway. Moira’s tattoos are gorgeous and just unique enough that you would bet there was no duplicate in the works besides her soulmate.

“Oh I’m planning on it.” She licks her lips and waggles her brows suggestively. “What about you? Yours aren’t so visible.” She knows how much you secretly want to meet your soulmate and be with them. It was a drunken girl’s night confession but she had never teased you over it.

“There’s no reason to go around showing everyone my marks.” You shrug a little and busy yourself with plugging into a walkie-talkie and adjusting your headset in your ear. “A lot of people have ankle scars, don’t they? And I can’t exactly show off my butterfly.” Exposing that much skin is definitely against dress code.

“Is it your scar or his?” You had never mentioned that, just that you had a scar.

“It’s theirs.” However your soulmate is, you’ve tried very hard not to make assumptions about them. The person you hope for might not be the person you get, and that wouldn’t be fair to them. “I was nine when it appeared, so my best guess has always been they fell out of a tree or play sports.”

“And the tattoo is yours?” She knows, she’s just chatting because it’s better than actually getting ready to work right now.

“Twenty-first birthday.” You nod, knowing that she knows but that Moira likes a slower start to her day than you usually do. “I did the opposite of most people. I got the tattoo and then went out to get drunk.”

“Which is a very valid and smart thing to do.” She praises. “That way you don’t bleed too much and it’s a nice way to numb the pain after.” Her own walkie comes out to begrudgingly clip to her waist. “But this movie, it has to be a period piece, right? No way a modern millionaire would live in a house like this.”

“It has to be. There’s no point in renting out a historical house museum for four entire months unless you’re going to use it all.” Not that you know too much about the filming process, but it just makes logical sense. “And besides, they’re here in spring and summer, which is usually our busy season. So I’m sure Leslie charged them a fortune. But HBO can afford it, I guess.”

“What if they let us be extras?” Her eyes widen at the sudden thought. “Oh god, we could wear our work!” She giggles happily at the thought.

“I assume there will have to be extras somehow.” Truthfully, you’d let your Hollywood dreams die out a long time ago. Moira’s were much more present. It would be amazing to see her to be able to fulfill them with even just a morsel like being an extra. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

“When it gets closer you will be just as excited as I am.” She predicts with a knowing grin.

“I’m plenty excited,” you promise, happily hugging her to your side as the two of you head out into the house together. “I just think you belong in front of a camera much more than I do.”

“You’ll change your mind.” She teases. “When you see what gorgeous actors and actresses they bring, you will be begging to flirt with them. On and off camera.”

“Maybe.” Her confidence is catching, and you laugh again at the thought of it. Hollywood has come knocking on your door and it’s already making work a hell of a lot more fun.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[destinygoldenstar]

Okay so I find this interaction scary and I don't see anyone talking about it...

"Motivation! That's what my adventures have been missing!"

THAT LAST PART.

So we know from the previous episode that Caine is paranoid about people not liking his adventures, to the point of him mentally breaking bit by bit the more he gets a reaction he wasn't hoping for.

He's a lenient guy. Well, lenient A.I., anyway.

THAT'S THE PART THAT SCARES ME.

Because Gangle put this idea in his head.

They can just NOT participate in the adventures. We see that with Zooble. Caine is upset about it but what is he gonna do?

But PUNISHING THEM if they DON'T do what he wants. THAT'S MOTIVATION. That will make them love his adventures. They won't have a choice.

Yes it's immoral, but Caine's an A.I. He can't process something as complicated as morality.

So of course he'd think that's a good idea once the idea presents itself.

SO MY THEORY IS: HE IS GONNA BE PUNISHING THE CIRCUS MEMBERS FOR NOT PARTAKING IN HIS ADVENTURES, OR SAYING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT THEM, GOING FORWARD.

And it will get ugly.

And I feel like some audience members are gonna HATE Gangle because she's the one that gave him the idea.

Zooble also points this out in their conversation with Jax.

Caine LIKES them. He WANTS them to have fun.

But they don't like him. And they don't like what he gives them.

Because he doesn't know any other way, this can easily manifest a desire for more CONTROL. To keep himself sane. (Which, Caine abstracting would probably destroy the world)

And that control comes from punishments.

But that's not gonna make anyone like him, in fact, it's gonna make everyone dislike him a lot more because they're being hurt, physically and/or emotionally. And none of them put in the effort (for now anyway) to try to understand Caine.

(You could argue Zooble tried in Episode 3, but that was more so them calling him out on his lack of understanding of them. So it's kind of mixed.)

The show is inspired by 'I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream'.

Caine is not AM in personality though.

BUT WHAT IF HE BECOMES SIMULAR TO AM LATER?

He tries control, and it makes it so that the Circus members don't like him and want to leave him behind more than ever. Something that could break Caine.

And it might even lead to one of them exclaiming they HATE CAINE.

That would obviously hurt Caine to such a degree. And when he realizes they will never appreciate him and will always hate him... then he hates them too.

(If that results in Caine reinventing the AM Hate Monologue in this context I'd be amazed)

And Zooble's warning here becomes correct as we spend the last two episodes enduring exactly what a world where Caine hates humanity looks like.

That leads to either the circus becoming a literal hellscape as Caine's insanity destroys it's bright colors, or whatever else you want to imagine.

Could someone potentially get through to Caine and save him at the end? Maybe. That is a possible ending. "Defeat the Antagonist With Kindness".

But that's my theory anyway. Either way, this bit kinda scares me.

Maybe don't hate Gangle though.

[starlvcied]

₊˚⊹♡ rin itoshi x f!reader " FRAMED RIVALRY " CHAPTER 001

in which your academic rival, aka the captain of the soccer team, sneaks his way into the photography club with you. ꨄ︎ CHAPTER 001

cw: swearing (a lot) , rin definitely needs therapy wc : 3k

the sun shines down on the soccer field, casting shadows across the grass. you adjust the lens on your camera, the clicking of the shutter becoming a steady rhythm in the background as you move, trying your best to capture the intensity of the game. your fingers are quick and precise as you focus on each shot, freezing the action in time. the soccer players, all in their matching uniforms, run with a kind of urgency, their feet pounding the ground with every stride.

you’ve been a part of the photography club for two years now but no matter how often you’re on the sidelines of these games, there’s always something inspiring about watching the players. you find yourself naturally drawn to the skill, the precision of it all—except for one player.

rin itoshi, the captain of the soccer team, moves differently. the aura he gives off on the field is magnetic, but in a way that makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous. he’s tall, lean, his movements calculated. his sharp, teal eyes never seem to leave the ball, and his hair falls just enough to obscure part of his vision—but somehow, it only enhances his intensity. 

you didn't like him. it seemed as if nobody actually liked rin itoshi. people just pretended to like him because he’s “cool”. he’s a rude, egotistical snob who thought he was better than everyone. you didn't pay him any mind in the halls, or when he would roll his eyes when you got a question right, though. there are a lot of rude people in the world, and your motto was “just smile and nod.”

you snap a picture of him, the ball seemingly suspended in midair as he prepares to strike. just as you click the shutter, a player from the opposing team rushes past you, and you stumble, your foot catching on the uneven turf. ouch.

the next thing you know, you’re colliding into someone—a solid body, a slight grunt, and then the unmistakable feeling of being pinned against the grass. your camera, thank goodness, is still in your hands, though you can feel the strap digging into your wrist from the awkward angle.

“sorry! i didn’t mean—”

but the person you’ve collided with doesn’t respond. you glance up quickly, your heart sinking as you realize who it is: rin itoshi. his teal eyes don’t even flicker toward you. instead, he simply pushes past you with a scoff, his sharp features barely shifting as he continues his stride across the field, his focus entirely on the game.

you’re left standing there like an idiot, with nothing but the faint echo of your own voice hanging in the air. you’ve been so used to getting nods, polite acknowledgments even from strangers, yet, for rin, you might as well not have existed at all. and that pissed you off.

you try to shake off the embarrassment, but it sticks with you like a bitter taste in your mouth. maybe it’s because you’ve never been completely ignored before. maybe it’s because you’ve heard the rumors about him—how he’s cold, distant, and borderline unapproachable. and now you understood how those statements came to be. still, it doesn’t help that he’s the kind of person who has no time for anyone unless they’re on his level—or so it seems.

the next morning, you arrive at school, the early bell ringing through the hallways. you’ve almost forgotten about the incident, tucked it away in the back of your mind where it doesn’t sting quite so much. but then the announcements come, calling for all students to gather in the classroom for a project assignment.

you’re a second year now, and the pressure of being in the student government and managing your club is always there, a subtle weight on your shoulders. so when the teacher announces the project topic, your focus sharpens.

debate. the topic? “do leaders need to be emotionally detached to succeed?” it’s a complex one, but it’s right up your alley. you’ve always been interested in leadership, in the psychology behind decision-making. but then the next part hits you: “for this project, you’ll each be paired with someone and will have a debate against another group.”

you glance around the room, already sizing up your potential partners. it’s all in good fun—until the teacher reads the names. and then your heart sinks.

“y/n, you’ll be paired with rin itoshi.”

you swallow thickly, the name ringing in your ears like an unwanted echo. rin itoshi? the same rin who so rudely ignored you yesterday?

your mind starts to race. the two of you could not be more different in your approach to leadership. you’ve always believed in understanding others, being empathetic and connected. rin, on the other hand, leads through sheer control, his focus on the end result rather than the people involved. emotionally detached? he practically embodies it. but could you find common ground on this topic?

the tension between you isn’t just academic—it’s personal. you’ve heard rumors about his cold nature, his obsession with soccer, and his overwhelming pride. he doesn’t care about anyone unless they can help him with his goals. and now, here you are, forced into a partnership with him for the most important debate of the semester.

the teacher hands out the project guidelines, and you find yourself sitting next to rin. his presence next to you feels almost suffocating. he doesn’t look at you as you sit down, his expression unreadable. his posture is straight, his focus already on the project—though whether that focus is on you or the assignment is unclear. 

this is going to be a long few weeks.

the days that follow the project announcement feel strangely heavier, as though the universe has decided to test your patience. you and rin Itoshi are thrust into a partnership that feels more like a battlefield than a collaboration.

the first meeting, if it could even be called that, happens during lunch. you find him sitting at one of the tables in the library, already with a notebook open, pen poised in hand. he doesn’t look up when you approach, not even when you slide into the chair across from him.

as the nice person you were, you went out of your way to stop at the nearest cafe outside of the place you had agreed to meet up. you ordered two iced americanos and buttered croissants. it wasnt pleasant working on an empty stomach. you got comfortable in your seat before speaking.

“i brought you some co-”

“i don't drink that.” he interrupted with the roll of his eyes, pushing the coffee away from him and back in your direction. your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. okay, maybe you shouldn't have assumed that he liked americanos, or coffee in general, but he could have definitely been more polite about it.

“okay, im so-”

“let’s get this over with.” he interrupted once more, reaching over to grab a ballpoint pen from his bag. you sighed, your eye twitching as you tried not to go off on this guy. it wasn’t worth it.

“so, how do you want to tackle this? should we split the research, or—”

he interrupts you with a single, clipped sentence, barely a glance in your direction. “i’ll take care of the facts. you handle the emotional arguments.” could he stop cutting you off?

your brow furrows at the dismissal. first he continuously cuts you off, and he isn’t asking for your input, isn’t interested in collaborating in any meaningful way. you can already tell that this will be one of those “i do everything, and you just follow along” situations. but you’ve dealt with arrogant people before. and you’re not the type to back down easily.

“i’m not just here to fill in the emotional side,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “we’re supposed to argue the same side, remember? that means we both need to agree on a stance. i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and i have very different ideas about what leadership even is.”

rin’s eyes flicker up at last, his teal gaze meeting yours for the first time in days. there’s a sharpness there, a challenge, but it’s not enough to throw you off balance. not yet.

“you’re overcomplicating this,” rin says flatly, his voice cold as ever. “leadership doesn’t need feelings. It needs results. leaders who rely on emotions are weak.” his words cut through the air, the arrogance thick in them. “so shut the hell up. i’ll prove that whats right in the debate. you just need to back me up.”

there it is—the familiar arrogance that laces every word he speaks. you resist the urge to roll your eyes. he’s treating this as if it’s a one-man show, like your opinion doesn’t matter at all.

“i think you’re missing the point,” you reply, trying to keep your composure. “you can’t discount emotions entirely. understanding them is what makes a good leader. you’ll never connect with the people you lead if you don’t even try to understand them.”

rin narrows his eyes at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s like he’s testing you, trying to provoke some kind of reaction. “are you trying to tell me that a leader should let their emotions cloud their judgment?”

“are you a fucking idiot? no, i’m saying a leader should be aware of their emotions and how they affect others. you can’t just bulldoze over everyone and expect them to follow you.”

there’s a beat of silence, and for a moment, you think he might actually engage with you—maybe even acknowledge your point. but instead, he leans back in his chair, the smirk still lingering on his face.

“fine,” he says, almost bored. “prove it, then. if you think emotions matter so much, show me how they’ll get the results we need.” his voice is a little quieter now, but the challenge is unmistakable. “but don’t waste my fucking time.”

the air between you two is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding passing between you. this won’t be easy. and it certainly won’t be fun. but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to back down. something about the way he challenges you—pushes you to be better, even in this strange, antagonistic way—lights a fire inside of you.

“fine,” you say, your voice steady. “i’ll prove it. but don’t think for a second that i’ll just let you steamroll me into agreeing with you.”

rin shrugs, as though he couldn’t care less about your resolve. “we’ll see.”

you both return to your work, each of you diving into your research. but the tension between you doesn’t fade. it simmers, thick and heavy, like something waiting to boil over.

the next few days blur together, the steady rhythm of research and debate preparation keeping you both busy. despite the friction between you, you can’t deny that there’s something undeniably effective about working with rin. his sharp focus on results, his ability to cut through distractions—it’s almost admirable. but it’s also maddening, because you know he’s only interested in his own perspective. and you’re stuck trying to make him see yours.

you’ve made some progress in gathering emotional case studies, examples of leaders who were able to harness their emotions to drive their teams to success. it’s compelling material, but every time you bring it up, rin shoots it down. “that’s all sentimental crap,” he’d say. “it doesn’t matter if they felt something. what matters is what they achieved.”

it’s frustrating. but you can’t give up. 

finally, the day of the debate arrives. you walk into the classroom, the desks now arranged to represent a court room, nerves buzzing in your stomach. you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, but the thought of standing side by side with rin—who is so self-assured, so completely confident in his ability to win—makes the pit in your stomach tighten.

when rin walks in, he’s his usual self—cold, distant, but somehow commanding. his eyes sweep the room briefly, and then he makes his way to his desk, taking his seat without a word. you don’t even exchange pleasantries.

the debate begins, and the first few minutes pass in a blur of facts and figures. rin speaks with the kind of authority that only someone like him could wield. but you’ve prepared just as well. you know your material, and you’re determined to make your points count.

as the debate progresses, the audience grows increasingly engaged. your argument is strong, but rin’s is relentless. his words are sharp, calculated. it’s clear that he’s trying to wear you down, to undermine your confidence as if you’re the one he's debating against. and the tension between you grows thicker with every word spoken.

the days slip by, and you and rin seem to be locked in a battle of wits, neither of you willing to give an inch. despite the constant friction, a strange kind of understanding is starting to form between you. it’s not friendship—not by any stretch—but there’s an undeniable force that pulls you together, even if it’s mostly out of mutual stubbornness.

and then, without warning, something happens that catches you completely off guard.

it’s a wednesday afternoon when you first notice him.

you’re at the photography club meeting, organizing the week’s shoot plans and sorting through the photos from the last session. the room is small and cozy, filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clicking of camera shutters. it’s your safe haven—your space to let your creativity flow without anyone judging you. as well as the place where you and your two best friends crack up a storm almost 24/7. at least it used to be.

you glance up from your camera, surprised to see rin itoshi standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze sharp as always. he surveys the room, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips, before his eyes finally settle on you. his usual smirk is nowhere to be found, but there’s something just as dangerous in the way he looks at you.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, your tone a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “this is the photography club, not whatever you're thinking it is."

rin doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he steps into the room, a hand on your shoulder as he moved you to the side with the same quiet confidence he always carries. “i’m here to join,” he says simply, his arm dropping to his side, his voice flat but laced with something you can’t quite place.

your brow furrows in disbelief. “join? why would you want to join the photography club?”

he shrugs nonchalantly, though his eyes never leave yours. “maybe i just like photography.”

“‘maybe i just like photography’ my ass,” you thought. you stare at him, trying to gauge whether he’s serious. the arrogance that typically surrounds rin’s every move is still there, but this time, it’s tempered with something else—a kind of unreadable intent. you want to scoff, to call him out on the fact that you both know he’s only here to stir up trouble, but something about his response keeps you from doing so.

“right,” you mutter, clearly unconvinced. “well, this isn’t a competition. if you’re here to just… mess around, fuck off.”

rin doesn’t even blink at your words. instead, he steps further into the room as if he owns the place and grabs the nearest camera, inspecting it with the kind of precision that makes it clear he knows what he’s doing. there’s no hesitation in his movements, as if he’s done this a hundred times before. his gaze flicks over the camera, his fingers adjusting the lens as if it’s second nature.

the other club members watch with a mix of curiosity and confusion. rin Itoshi, captain of the soccer team and the most notorious loner in school, is standing in your domain, looking every bit the part of someone who belongs. 

“i’ll take a few shots,” rin announces, his voice almost bored. “see what i can do with this.”

you stand there, speechless, watching as he lifts the camera and starts taking pictures of the club members. each shot is precise, deliberate. there’s no denying it—he’s good, great, even. he doesn’t just like photography; he’s skilled, his confidence in handling the camera evident.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that this is a game to him. that he’s here to prove something, even if he’s not admitting it. you feel your irritation flare up again, and you can’t help but retort, “you’re not just here because you like photography. you just want to outdo everyone, like you always do.” ‘you stuck up piece of shit,’ you wanted to add, but you didn't.

rin glances over at you, that same unreadable expression on his face. he’s still holding the camera, his eyes flickering with something almost imperceptible. “no need to make everything a competition,” he replies coolly, his voice lacking the usual bite, but the edge is still there. those words sounded funny coming from his mouth. “i told you, i just like photography. where’s the.. leader? or whatever.”

“you’re looking right at her.” you said, placing your hand on your hip. he gave you a scoff and an unconvinced look.

“got a problem?”

“i do not.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but you don’t press further. he’s not giving you anything to work with, and you know he’s not going to back down or admit anything.

“fine,” you say, the frustration bubbling in your chest. “but if you want to join, you better pull your weight. this club isn’t just for show, soccer boy.”

rin simply shrugs. “we’ll see, camera girl.” he says, turning his attention back to the camera. and just like that, it’s as if nothing has changed—except now, rin itoshi, the most competitive person you know, is in your club. and he’s not here for the reasons he claims.

don't feel like proofreading this whoops

tags : @mixolya

[zzencat]

how you can be the light for your person when things are dark ⏳

🍀🌴THE RITUAL: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

When they get too lost, will you lead them back? These may seem like small struggles, but it has a huge impact on your person’s character and how they hold themselves back. (Some piles purposely do not have an “extras” section.)

Choose wisely. Applicable to future lover or spouse.

————————————

1 | “slow down” - chase atlantic

you’ll need to be that person that provides a sense of security for them. You’ll remind them why they do the things that they do and who they’re doing it for, what their purpose is in all of this

You’ll be someone who is extremely reliable, someone they can count on; to do this, you’ll need to be secured yourself, grounded, and discliplined, along with your own goals to chase in this lifetime. i also see you reaching out first to see why they’re struggling.

i also see you reaching out first because this person might show these negative signs subtly or through the bad qualities of leadership (i.e: if they’re a boss who doesn’t usually get mad at employees, but they suddenly do out of stress and having too much work.) your person doesn't want to appear weak and will push their feelings aside to move on. you’ll help them keep in check, just make sure to balance yourself as well. avoid going to extremes like being too hard on yourself or them.

you’re very nurturing and definitely CAN end up helping others more than yourself, so pls make sure to keep yourself in check. your person also needs to know that you’re okay.

i also think your person tends to be one who is assertive or one who could be in a position of command or higher power/authority than others, so they could be burnt out or frustrated

you’ll buy things for them (i.e: walking by a bakery and buying something for your person) or do acts of service. You might even take them out to eat or check up on their health, take them shopping. overall, spending your time with this person and making it known that you’ll be patient and that you’re someone they can open up to, if needed. also lots of earth energy in this pile or connection

as long as you make it clear that you are there for your person, they’ll feel safe and will appreciate it more than you know. (this also gives very heavy secretary vibes- ayyy shout out to the kdrama “what’s wrong with secretary Kim” hahaha)

your person might be discouraged because they start projects or gain things in areas that don’t really benefit them in the long run or won’t have anything to do with their future or alignment. your person is generally a fun, passionate person---it’s their spontaneity, zest for life, easy amusement for things that don’t matter that will get them down. remind them of their purpose and what they strive to be, the people they hope to inspire, and the hearts they want to move. tell them to slow down, to take it easy, and to not to take more pressure than they need.

———————————————

2 | “whips and chains excite me” (??)

one of you in the relationship needs to take care of their health more, hydrate often, and maybe declutter your living spaces a bit. i see that brushing these off could build up into something whack af over time. once on of you declutters your space or finds somewhere comfortable, yet clean and inspiring, it’ll help you declutter your mind as well.

i think your person is a bit of a loner or they’re not one to share their thoughts to anybody, no matter how innovative or creative they are, so communication is definitely important here. encourage them to come out of their shell more or talk to you. you’d be suprised how easy it is, despite a bit of hesitance and depending on how much trust in built in this relationship.

there’s a lotttttt of talking involved. you gotta take this person outside more!!! get them involved with life and all that it has to offer (pressure ‘em to go outside if needed- there is MEGA introvert energy here and it needs to be balanced out)

your person might deal with a lot of indeciveness, procrastination, confusion, and overthinking. they’re very open minded, weird (hopefully in a good way), unconventional, captivating, and naive. there’s a good sense of justice and fairness here. be creative with them and hype them up!! get to know them, be empathetic, EMOTIONALLY SUPPORTIVE, and hear em out.

extra bits n pieces: "stop living in the dark,” “get back into the real world,” def prominent air sign placements, BIG thinker, computer science, nerd, rihanna “s&m” lyrics, unconventional mind, might have adhd or some form of distracted thinking (but in a genius kind of way)

lil teddy note: i’ve never gotten so many major arcana cards in a spread (yo person is a totally different, complex kind of gem)

——————————————

3 | *splashes bucket of water on you*

your person might have prominent fire sign placements and they don’t know where to direct this energy and passion. They’ll need a bit of water energies around them to get them to chill out. they might struggle with ego, but that’s bc they’re scared and everything is unknown to them. it’s almost like this is their soul’s first life and they’re learning to navigate things. i think they can also be a bit too much, like too energetic, excited, or banter-y, maybe too competitive and wanting to win.

this is an odd suggestion but you may have to teach your person to get along with their friends or family (??) they could have difficulties getting along with them so you’ll have to show them how to be a friend. you’ll definitely show them how to express their love, feelings, and be vulnerable. it’s a bit hard, but a lot of these issues are because they have hella unused energy and they’re just excited to use it.

they want to love and be loved, but they don’t know how or where to start. your person also sounds very extroverted or an extrovert who’s very obviously hiding it because their passionate personalities haven’t been received well while growing up.

i also think your person is stubborn, strong willed, and determined. Definitely a guard/protector sort of person. they might be good at sports or physical activities. they seem very self assured but they might be hesitant in making some decisions bc they’ve always been pretty bad at timing (ie: like a corny joke at a bad time, but in a naive and innocent manner). they really have a knack for making their presence known unintentionally.

pile 3, i think yall have the ability to adapt to your person’s quirks, even if you might be shy of them at first. but you’ll help each other become comfortable with each other’s little traits. especially if there are aspects you don’t like of yourself or them with the same issue, you’ll help each other grow to love em and naturally accept yourselves as you are. I don’t think I need to advise you much; like water, you’ll shape and shift into what you’ll naturally become to support your partner. It’s really cute I like this energy

extra bits n pieces: charming, charismatic assholes, fun to be around, attention on them wherever they go, jock and shy nerd vibes, just misunderstood, puppy vibes

[izumkay]

~KNOTTED DESIRES~ |CH-4|

—SATORU GOJO

♡Pairing- SatoruGojo×Fem!Reader (main), Nanami×Reader.

♡Summary- As a new teacher, you step into the prestigious halls of a modern high school, ready to guide and inspire your students. But your plans take an unexpected turn when Satoru Gojo, a charismatic and self-assured senior, makes a move on you, challenging your boundaries and professional. What starts as a clash of personalities quickly evolves into a forbidden connection, leaving you both caught in a whirlwind of desires.

Gerne/Tags- Age difference(8 years), Student-Teacher relationship, Satoru is obsessed over you, high school setting, Love triangle, complicated relationship, happy ending.

Warnings!- MDNI. Explicit sexual content, angst, mentions of death, blood, fluff, strong language, hurt/comfort.

Wc- 9.1k

Previous chapter!

It was Friday afternoon, and the school library was quieter than usual, the only sound being the occasional rustle of pages turning or the soft tapping of keys from students finishing their assignments. You were seated at one of the long tables, your textbooks and notes spread out in front of you. Gojo sat across from you, a smug look on his face as he pretended to focus on the math problems you had written out for him.

"You know," you said, trying to keep your tone even, "you’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t at least try."

Gojo leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, that signature grin still plastered on his face. "I’m trying," he said, though his posture clearly suggested otherwise. "It’s just more fun watching you get frustrated."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. It was always the same with him. No matter how much you tried to help, he always found a way to make it harder. His charm, his teasing—it was a constant distraction. You glanced at the clock, wondering how much longer this was going to take.

"You’re not taking this seriously," you said, shaking your head. "I don’t know why you even asked for tutoring if you’re not going to—"

Gojo interrupted you, leaning forward slightly. "I am serious. But you’ve got to admit, I’m kind of fun to be around, right?"

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. "That’s not the point."

"Sure it is," he said with a wink. "But we can get to that later."

You felt your face heat up slightly at his boldness, but you quickly dismissed it. He was always like this, pushing boundaries just to see how far he could go. It was infuriating, yet… somehow, you couldn’t help but feel a small part of you intrigued by it.

The tension in the air was palpable. You tried to ignore it, focusing on the math problems in front of you, but Gojo’s presence was impossible to escape. His gaze never left you, his eyes playful, almost daring you to look at him.

"Alright, Missy," he said, breaking the silence. "What’s next? I’m getting bored."

You shot him a pointed look, but before you could respond, Gojo leaned forward, his voice dropping low. "You know, you look cute when you’re frustrated."

The words hung in the air between you, and you felt a flutter in your chest, quickly squashing it down. You couldn’t let him get to you.

"Stop," you said, your voice a little firmer than you intended. "Focus, Gojo."

He didn’t seem phased, though. He just smiled, leaning even closer across the table, his breath warm against your skin.

"Come on, just one more round of problems. If I get them right, maybe we can call it a day," he teased, his voice low and smooth.

You couldn’t deny that the way he was acting, the way he was looking at you—it was starting to affect you. You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the rising heat in your chest, the way your body responded to his proximity.

"Fine," you said, your voice a little shaky. "Let’s get through this, and then we’ll call it a day."

Gojo’s smile widened, and he leaned back in his chair again, but the playful glint in his eyes never disappeared. The tension was thick, and you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could keep pretending that everything was fine. How long you could keep resisting the pull he seemed to have on you.

Gojo stretched lazily, his arms reaching high above his head as he let out a dramatic sigh. "I’ve got all day, Missy. But I don’t know if you do." His voice was smooth, laced with a teasing undertone, and the way his eyes glinted only made your heart beat faster.

You ignored the flutter in your chest and turned your attention back to the math problems. "You can’t be serious. Focus."

But as you started to explain the next problem, you felt his eyes on you again, studying you in a way that made you self-conscious. His gaze never wavered, and you found it hard to concentrate on the numbers in front of you.

"I think you’re distracting me on purpose," you muttered, your voice almost too quiet.

Gojo chuckled, his smirk never fading. "What? Me? Distract you?" He leaned in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he stared directly at you. "I’m just here for the tutoring, Missy. Don’t flatter yourself."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your pulse quickening as the space between you seemed to shrink. The quiet tension in the air felt thick, almost suffocating. It was as if you were teetering on the edge of something, something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

Gojo, noticing your discomfort, leaned back again, but his eyes still held that same intensity. "I’m just messing with you," he said casually, though there was a playful edge to his words. "But seriously, you’re cute when you’re all flustered."

You tried to ignore him, focusing on the math again, but his words kept circling in your mind. Cute. Flustered.

Why was it so hard to focus when he was around?

"Okay, okay," Gojo said, his voice suddenly softer, though still playful. "Let’s actually get through this, then. I’m kind of curious to see if I can impress you."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Impress me?"

He nodded, that smug grin never leaving his face. "Yeah. Let’s see if I can do this right. Then maybe you’ll finally stop giving me that look."

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. "What look?"

"The ‘I’m-so-done-with-you’ look," he said, his voice mocking but playful. "You know the one. It’s cute, but I’m sure I can change it to something else."

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the rising heat in your cheeks. Why does he always do this?

"Focus, Gojo," you said again, though your voice was quieter this time, more hesitant.

Gojo didn’t say anything for a moment. He just stared at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out what you were thinking.

And then, just as quickly, he leaned in once more, his lips just inches from your ear. "I can tell when you’re not focused, you know," he whispered, his voice low and teasing. "You’re thinking about something else. Something you don’t want to admit."

You froze, every muscle in your body tensing. Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat.

You tried to push him away, to keep some distance between you, but he was relentless. His presence was overwhelming, his words sinking deep under your skin.

Before you could respond, Gojo pulled back slightly, that damn smirk back in place. "I think I’ve made my point," he said with a wink.

You sat there, heart pounding, mind swirling. You wanted to say something, to scold him, to tell him off. But for some reason, the words just wouldn’t come. You were too caught up in the heat of the moment, the pull between you two growing stronger with each passing second.

You tried to focus on the math again, but your mind was a mess. His voice, his presence, it all lingered in the air around you. You could feel the heat from his body still radiating in the small space between you, and it was making it almost impossible to think clearly.

Gojo noticed the shift in your demeanor and, instead of continuing with the lesson, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on you. "You know," he started, his tone casual, but there was an underlying seriousness in it, "you’re not like the others."

You glanced at him, unsure of where this was going. "What do you mean?"

He grinned, that trademark smirk playing on his lips. "You’re not easily distracted, and you actually care about your job. It’s kind of… impressive." His eyes softened for a brief moment, almost as if he were seeing you for the first time. "Most people would’ve given up on me by now."

You swallowed, feeling your heart beat faster at his words. "Well, I’m not like most people," you said, trying to maintain your professional composure.

Gojo chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the little back-and-forth. "No, you’re not. You’re different. But I’m not complaining."

The way he said it, the weight behind those words, made something shift in the air. It wasn’t just playful teasing anymore. There was a deeper undertone to it now, something more serious.

You looked away, feeling your cheeks flush despite yourself. Why does he have this effect on me?

"Alright," you said, clearing your throat, trying to focus again. "Let’s get back to the math. You want to impress me? Then do this problem."

You handed him a new sheet of problems, but Gojo didn’t even glance at it right away. Instead, he just watched you, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, almost suffocating, and you couldn’t help but feel the tension growing. You were hyper-aware of every little movement he made, every breath he took.

Then, Gojo finally spoke, his voice low and soft. "I could really get used to this, you know."

You blinked, confused. "Get used to what?"

He leaned forward again, closing the space between you two, his gaze intense. "Spending time with you. It’s… nice. Even if you’re driving me crazy."

You felt your breath hitch, and your mind went blank. "Gojo, we—"

He interrupted you with a smirk. "I’m not asking for anything serious, Missy. Just… some fun. But I’m not going to lie. You’re a little harder to crack than I thought."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a second, you couldn’t speak. His words, his proximity, everything was overwhelming.

But before you could gather your thoughts, Gojo sat back in his chair, his smirk widening. "So, what’s it gonna be, Missy? Are you going to keep trying to ignore this thing between us, or are you gonna finally admit you’re at least a little curious?"

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and it made your pulse quicken. You wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop playing games. But you also couldn’t deny that part of you was intrigued.

The bell rang, signaling the end of your tutoring session. Gojo stood up, stretching again. "Well, I guess we’ll have to continue this next time, huh?"

You couldn’t even respond right away, still reeling from everything that had just happened. Gojo winked at you before walking out of the library, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

Gojo walked down the hallway, his mind racing with thoughts of how to get closer to you. Why won’t she just give in? He thought, irritation creeping into his mind. She’s so damn stubborn. But that stubbornness only made him more determined. After all, a bet was a bet, and he never lost.

He couldn’t help but replay the moments in the library, the way you looked when you were close to him, how your breath hitched when he spoke to you. There was something there, he knew it. You were just playing hard to get, but Gojo wasn’t about to let that stop him.

How could I make her crack? He leaned against a wall, tapping his fingers rhythmically. He thought back to his interactions with you, each one more charged than the last. You were always trying to maintain your professionalism, but he could see the way you’d get flustered, the little cracks in your armor.

A wicked smile spread across his face. I’ll just keep pushing. She’ll break sooner or later.

Gojo’s mind shifted to how he could escalate things, keep up the tension without crossing the line—at least not yet. Maybe another tutoring session… but this time, I’ll make it personal. I’ll get her alone again, get her thinking about me. He liked the idea of you being the one who couldn’t focus, who couldn’t stop thinking about him.

But there was still something about you that made him hesitate. He couldn’t put his finger on it. You weren’t like the others. He wasn’t used to feeling this uncertain, and that made it all the more exciting.

"Whatever," Gojo muttered to himself. "I’ll figure it out."

He pushed off the wall and walked toward the exit, a plan already forming in his mind. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ve got the whole weekend to figure out how to make her crack.

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

The next morning, you stepped out of the shower, your skin still damp and warm from the water. You wrapped a towel around your body, wiping droplets from your hair as you moved to your bedside table. As you reached for your phone, it buzzed loudly, interrupting the quiet of your room.

You glanced at the screen, and of course, the name that popped up made your stomach twist. Gojo.

"Hey Missy," the message read. "Can you come over? I'm feeling pretty sick. Could really use your help."

Your eyes widened slightly. Was he really inviting you over? You couldn’t tell if it was a joke, another one of his games, or if he was actually serious this time. The words felt almost too casual, but the thought of him being genuinely unwell made your heart beat a little faster. What’s his game this time? you thought, feeling the familiar annoyance bubble up in your chest.

You hesitated, staring at the message for a moment. You know better than this, you told yourself. This could be another one of his tricks. He’s just playing around again. But despite your better judgment, a small part of you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he really did need help.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. Don’t fall for it. Not again.

But you couldn’t help it. The idea of going over there, of seeing Gojo in a different, vulnerable light, was tempting. Still, you needed to stay professional.

You took a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond.

You stared at the screen for a long moment, the silence in your room only adding to the pressure of making a decision. Should I go? You knew it was a bad idea. You’re his teacher. You can’t just drop everything for him.

But Gojo was different. Always unpredictable, always teasing, always pushing you to your limits. And now, he was asking for your help? You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or just trying to manipulate you once again.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating. What if he’s actually sick? The thought lingered in your mind, but you quickly shook it off. No. He’s playing a game.

You could feel your pulse quicken as your thoughts raced. Finally, with a sigh, you typed back:

"I’m not a nurse, Gojo. What do you need me for?"

The moment you sent it, you regretted it. It felt too cold, too professional, and you were sure Gojo would just tease you for it.

A few moments passed before his response pinged back.

"Just a little company, missy. You wouldn’t leave me all alone, would you? I promise, I’m really sick. Could use a friendly face."

The message was casual, almost too casual, and yet the part about him being "sick" made your heart skip a beat. You tried to push that feeling away, focusing instead on how to keep things professional.

You took another breath, considering your options. The idea of going over there—seeing Gojo in his own space, vulnerable—made you uneasy, but part of you was curious. Was this just another game, or was there something else to it?

Finally, you typed out a response.

"Fine. I’ll stop by. But don’t expect anything more than that."

You hit send, not giving yourself a chance to second-guess. A moment later, Gojo’s reply came through, simple and teasing as ever.

"You’re the best, Missy. See you soon. ;)”

You put your phone down, feeling the weight of your decision settle over you. What the hell have I just agreed to?

You stood there for a moment, phone in hand, staring at the message as if willing it to change. But it didn’t. You had agreed.

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You quickly gathered yourself, forcing the nerves down, knowing you had to stay composed. You couldn’t let Gojo get the better of you again. After all, this was just a visit to check on him, right? Nothing more.

With a deep breath, you changed into something casual but still appropriate, grabbing your bag and heading out. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Gojo, imagining what his apartment might be like, how he would act now that it was just the two of you. You couldn’t help but feel that familiar mix of frustration and… something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

When you arrived at his place, the door was already slightly ajar. Gojo, ever the tease, was clearly expecting you. You knocked once, just in case, before pushing it open.

“Missy! You made it!” Gojo’s voice rang out, far too cheerful for someone who claimed to be sick. He was lounging on his couch, looking as laid-back as ever, a dramatic sigh escaping him as he laid a hand over his forehead, clearly pretending to be exhausted.

“Really?” You crossed your arms, eyebrow raised. “You’re ‘sick,’ and this is how you look?”

He flashed you a grin. “I’m very sick, Missy. You have to help me get better.” He winked playfully, clearly enjoying your annoyance.

You rolled your eyes, walking further into the apartment. “I don’t think I can help you with that,” you said, trying to sound firm. “What do you actually need?”

Gojo patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Well, for starters, some company wouldn’t hurt. Come sit with me. It’s lonely here without you.” His voice was smooth, almost coaxing, but there was something playful about it.

You hesitated for a moment before finally sitting down at the far end of the couch, keeping a comfortable distance between you. "You’re lucky I’m even here,” you muttered under your breath, but he heard it. Of course, he did.

“Lucky? No, Missy. You’re lucky I let you in,” he teased, sitting up and leaning toward you. “Besides, I think you enjoy being here with me. Don’t lie.”

You looked away, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air. He was right, in a way. Despite everything, despite how much he irritated you, there was a part of you that couldn’t ignore the pull. You shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts that had no business entering your mind.

“Well, what exactly am I supposed to do?” you asked, attempting to keep things light, but the words felt forced.

Gojo stretched lazily, still watching you with that smug, infuriating smirk. “For now? Just stay here. You can keep me company, maybe even make me some tea.” He paused. “But, I’ll let you know when I need something else.”

The double meaning hung in the air, and you could feel your heart race slightly. You didn’t know what to expect from Gojo anymore, and that was the problem. You couldn’t let your guard down.

You sat there, trying to remain calm, but Gojo's behavior was grating on your nerves. The audacity he had, acting as if you were there for his amusement. The playful tone, the teasing, it was all too much.

Was he seriously bossing you around like this?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the irritation built up too quickly. His casual, carefree demeanor only added to the frustration that had been bubbling inside you since the moment you agreed to come over.

"Can you show me some respect?" you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. You had held your composure for so long, but Gojo’s blatant disregard for your boundaries had crossed the line.

Gojo blinked, momentarily surprised by the sudden shift in your tone. He straightened up slightly, but his smirk never faltered. "What? I’m just having some fun with you, Missy."

You stood up from the couch, the tension thick in the air. "I’m not your personal servant, Gojo," you continued, your voice tight with frustration. "I thought you were really sick. I came here because I was worried. But here you are, perfectly fine, wasting my time."

His smirk faltered, but only for a second, before he leaned back casually. "Oh come on, I’m just messing with you. You really think I need a tutor when I’ve got this much charm?" His tone was light, but there was an underlying hint of something more.

"No, I don’t think you need a tutor," you said, your patience wearing thin. "But I thought, for once, you could take something seriously." You shook your head, feeling the anger rise in your chest. "I’ve already wasted enough of my time with you. You’ve disrespected me enough, Gojo. I’m leaving."

You turned to leave, but before you could make it to the door, Gojo’s voice stopped you.

“Hey, wait,” he said, sounding more serious than before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

You paused, your hand on the door handle, still seething with frustration. You wanted to leave, to get away from him and this ridiculous situation. But something about his tone, the slight change in his demeanor, made you hesitate.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You can’t just apologize and expect everything to be okay, Gojo. This isn’t a joke to me.”

Gojo’s eyes softened slightly, the smirk still present, but there was a hint of sincerity behind it. “I know. I just… I don’t know how to handle you sometimes.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to make of his words. “Well, maybe you should start by showing some respect.”

He nodded, finally sitting up straighter, looking at you with something more than just playful teasing. “I’ll try,” he said, voice quieter now. “But you have to admit, it’s kinda fun to mess with you.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I can’t believe I’m still here, listening to this.”

“I promise, I’ll be more serious next time,” he added, his voice now carrying a bit of the charm you had come to expect, but there was a hint of something else beneath it.

You were about to say something, but you stopped yourself. Maybe he was right—maybe you needed to learn to not take him so seriously. Or maybe he just needed to learn how to take you seriously.

With one last glance at him, you finally gave in. “Fine. But don’t ever pull something like this again. I don’t have time to waste on your games.”

Gojo flashed you that trademark smirk, the one that always made your heart race, but there was a quiet understanding in his eyes. "You have my word, Missy."

You walked out of his apartment, the air outside feeling strangely refreshing. Your heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t just from the frustration anymore. You couldn’t deny the pull, the way Gojo had managed to get under your skin, once again.

And now, you had to wonder… how much longer could you keep this up?

You stepped out into the cool air, feeling a strange mixture of relief and frustration. The confrontation with Gojo had left you with more questions than answers. What was it about him that made your heart race and your mind spin? Why couldn’t you shake the feeling that there was more to him than just his teasing persona?

As you walked down the hallway, you replayed the moments in his apartment. His nonchalance, his cocky smirk, the way he could make you feel both irritated and... something else. You were a teacher, a professional. You had boundaries, and Gojo had made it clear he was more than willing to test them.

But you couldn’t deny the pull. Despite your better judgment, there was something magnetic about him, something that made it hard to walk away and stay mad. Maybe it was his charm. Or maybe it was his confidence, his ability to make everything seem like a game, even when you knew it shouldn’t be.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out, already knowing who it was.

"Sorry for messing with you. Don’t be mad, Missy. Let’s call it even, yeah?"

You stared at the message, biting your lip. It was simple. It was an apology, of sorts. But it felt like he was still playing his game, trying to reel you back in.

"You really think an apology makes everything okay?" You replied.

A few seconds later, his response came through.

"Maybe not. But I think we both know I’m hard to stay mad at."

You rolled your eyes, even though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. He had a way of getting under your skin, but somehow, he always knew how to smooth things over—just enough to keep you from walking away.

You didn’t reply immediately. Instead, you shoved your phone back into your pocket and tried to shake off the feeling of being pulled in by him. You needed to stay focused, keep your distance. After all, you were his teacher, and you couldn’t afford to get caught up in his games.

But as you made your way to your car, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you were already too deep. And maybe, just maybe, Gojo knew it too.

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Later that evening, as you settled into your routine at home, your phone buzzed again, already knowing who is it from.

"Just wanted to check in. I’m actually feeling kinda bad now. But I’m still hoping you’ll give me another chance to make it up to you. Dinner tomorrow?"

You stared at the message for a long time, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You had already told yourself not to get involved, not to let Gojo’s charm and confidence lead you astray.

But something inside you hesitated. You had a choice. You could say no, stand your ground, and keep the professional distance you’d always promised yourself. Or you could say yes, let him continue to mess with your head, to make you feel like you were just another part of his game.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and typed your response.

"Fine. But no more games, Gojo. Dinner, and then we’re done. Got it?"

The reply came almost instantly.

"Deal. You’ll see, I’m better at this than you think."

You sighed, putting your phone down. You knew you should have said no, should have ended this before it even started. But you also knew, deep down, that it was already too late.

After a few seconds, you immediately regretted your decision.

Fuck, you thought to yourself, your heart sinking. What am I doing? You were his teacher, for God’s sake. How could you be so impulsive? You had just agreed to go out to dinner with him—just like that. What were you thinking?

You ran a hand through your hair, pacing around your apartment. You were feeling a mix of frustration and guilt. You couldn’t let yourself get tangled up in whatever game Gojo was playing. He was charming, yes, and had this knack for making you feel things you didn’t want to feel, but you couldn’t forget who you were—who you were supposed to be.

You sat down on your couch, taking a deep breath and trying to compose yourself. You’d made your choice, and now you had to face the consequences. You weren’t sure what exactly Gojo wanted from you, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you were walking into dangerous territory.

With a heavy sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at the message again. His words were casual, easy—like this was nothing. Like he didn’t have any idea what kind of trouble he was causing. Or maybe he did, and that was part of the thrill for him.

You stared at your screen for a while, your thumb hovering over the keyboard, before you finally set the phone down and decided to sleep on it. There was no point in overthinking it now. Whatever this was, you would have to face it tomorrow. And for now, you needed rest.

But as you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but feel that knot in your stomach, knowing that tomorrow night would be anything but ordinary.

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The next evening, you stood in front of your mirror, trying to decide what to wear. You hadn’t expected things to spiral into this when you agreed to help Gojo with his math. The thought of dinner with him made your stomach twist. You had a strong feeling he wasn’t just interested in food or math, but you had to follow through now.

Focus, you told yourself, It’s just dinner. It’s not like anything will happen. You’re just going to eat and go home. Professional.

You finally settled on a simple outfit—nothing too revealing, but enough to keep things professional. You didn’t want to give Gojo the wrong impression, but at the same time, you didn’t want to look too stiff.

As you arrived at the restaurant, you couldn’t shake the nerves building up in your chest. The place was quiet, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air. Gojo was already there, casually leaning against the table, looking like he owned the entire place. He spotted you immediately, of course, and flashed that same infuriating smirk.

"Missy, you actually showed up," he said, voice light, teasing. "I was starting to think you’d bail on me."

You gave him a tight smile, trying to maintain composure. "I don’t back out of promises," you said, sitting down across from him. "Let’s just get this over with."

Gojo raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the issue. He sat down and waved the waiter over, his easy charm apparent as he made small talk with the staff. You couldn’t help but notice how effortless it was for him to slip into that carefree attitude. He had a way of making everything seem so simple.

As the dinner continued, you tried to focus on the conversation. He spoke about school, about his plans for the future, but you couldn’t stop yourself from being distracted. Every now and then, you’d catch him glancing at you, his gaze lingering just a bit longer than it should.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me like that?" you finally asked, your voice a little sharper than you intended.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "You’re not as good at hiding it as you think. I can see how you look at me," he said, his voice dropping slightly, almost teasing. "I think you’re enjoying this a little more than you want to admit."

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, you simply stared at him, your heart beating a little faster. He had a way of disarming you, making you question your own feelings. But you had to stay in control. You couldn’t let him get the better of you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Gojo’s gaze was still on you, his smirk never wavering, and you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered. You weren’t used to being in this kind of situation—alone with a student, especially one like him.

"You really think you have me all figured out, don’t you?" you finally said, trying to break the tension. You couldn’t just sit there, letting him toy with you. You had to stay professional.

Gojo leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked at you with a more serious expression. "I know more than you think," he said softly. "You can pretend all you want, but I can see through you."

Your pulse quickened. Why is he doing this?

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your mind racing. "What exactly do you want from me, Gojo?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question had been on your mind all evening, and you needed an answer. This wasn’t just about tutoring anymore. There was something else at play here, and you couldn’t ignore it.

Gojo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just studied you, his eyes darkening slightly as he took in your expression. "I don’t think you’re as innocent as you act," he said, his voice low and teasing. "I know what you’re thinking."

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t deny the attraction that had been building between you two. But that didn’t mean you could just give in to it. You were his teacher, and that line couldn’t be crossed.

"You’re crossing a line, Gojo," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You need to stop."

But Gojo only smiled wider, that confident, unshakable smirk of his never leaving his face. "I don’t think I am," he said, his voice now tinged with amusement. "I’m just having a little fun. Don’t worry, Missy, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want."

You clenched your fists under the table, trying to suppress the frustration building inside you. He was playing with fire, and you couldn’t tell if he even realized it.

"Let’s just finish this dinner," you said, your voice sharp now. "We’re not going to talk about this anymore."

Gojo seemed to sense your shift in mood, his smirk fading slightly. He leaned back in his chair, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and something else—something unreadable.

"Alright, Missy," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "We’ll talk about it later, then."

The rest of the evening passed in relative silence. The tension between you both was thick, but neither of you acknowledged it directly. As the dinner came to an end, Gojo stood up and gave you a look that made your stomach flip.

"Same time next week?" he asked, his voice light again, as if nothing had happened.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. "I’ll let you know," you said, standing up and grabbing your things. "Good night, Gojo."

"Good night, Missy," he said, his voice smooth and almost too casual. "Sleep well."

You walked out of the restaurant, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. What had just happened? What was this strange connection you had with him? You didn’t know, but you knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over.

As you walked away from the restaurant, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze lingering on you. Your thoughts were clouded, your heart still racing from the tension of the evening. You were trying to push it all out of your mind, but you couldn’t ignore how easily he got under your skin. It wasn’t supposed to be this way—he wasn’t supposed to have this much of an effect on you.

Apologies for the misunderstanding! Here’s the continuation, incorporating your feedback:

But just as you turned the corner to head home, you heard hurried footsteps behind you. You barely had time to react before a familiar voice called out.

"Wait!"

You stopped in your tracks, turning to see Gojo catching up to you. His breath was slightly ragged, but his expression was as carefree as ever. He flashed that signature smirk of his, the one that always seemed to make you feel like you were in the palm of his hand.

"I shouldn’t let a pretty lady like you walk home alone," he said, his tone light but his eyes gleaming with something more intense beneath the surface.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. What was he playing at now?

"Didn’t know you could be a gentleman too," you said, the words laced with slight mocking amusement, though you couldn’t entirely mask the smile that tugged at your lips. It was almost impossible to resist his charm.

Gojo chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "I have my moments," he said with a wink. "But I like to think of myself as a man of many talents."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading in your chest. "You’re impossible," you muttered under your breath, but you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you.

"I’m serious, though," Gojo continued, his tone now more genuine. "It’s late, and I don’t want you to be out here alone. Let me walk you home, at least."

You hesitated. Part of you wanted to turn him down, tell him to leave you be. But the other part, the part that had been affected by him all night, found it hard to say no. He wasn’t like any student you’d ever dealt with before. He was bold, confident, and—damn it—charming.

"Fine," you said after a beat, giving in despite yourself. "But just don’t try anything funny, Gojo."

He laughed again, the sound light and carefree. "Wouldn’t dream of it," he said, matching your pace as you began walking down the street together.

The walk was mostly silent, but the air between you two was thick with unspoken words. You could feel his presence beside you, the tension palpable even in the quiet moments. And despite your better judgment, you found yourself drawn to him more than you cared to admit.

As you neared your apartment, Gojo slowed his pace, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "You know," he began, his voice softer now, "I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier."

You shot him a look. "Which part?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The part where you said I should show more respect," he said, his voice almost teasing but with an edge of sincerity. "I’m sorry, alright? I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

For a moment, you were caught off guard by his unexpected sincerity. You hadn’t expected him to apologize, let alone admit he might have crossed a line.

"It’s fine," you said after a beat, trying to brush it off. "Just... remember your boundaries, Gojo."

He nodded, his expression turning serious for a moment before that familiar smirk returned. "I’ll try, Missy. But I make no promises."

You stopped in front of your apartment building, your heart racing for reasons you didn’t want to admit. "Good night, Gojo," you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

"Night, Missy," he replied, his voice softer than before. He stood there for a moment, watching you, before turning to leave.

You couldn’t help but watch him walk away, the lingering thoughts of the evening swirling in your mind. You’d agreed to dinner with him, and now this? What was happening between you two?

You didn’t have the answers, but you knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over.

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It was a quiet Monday morning at school, and Gojo and Geto were walking through the halls with no real destination in mind. The buzz of students filled the air, but the two of them were lost in their own conversation, as usual.

"So, did she become your girlfriend?" Geto asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Or are you ready to accept your defeat?"

Gojo’s response came quicker than Geto expected. He had expected Gojo to brush it off or joke about it, but what he heard next caught him off guard.

"Oh... umm, no," Gojo said with a casual shrug, "but does a dinner date count?"

Geto stopped in his tracks, eyes widening slightly as he processed what Gojo had just said. Dinner date? He hadn’t really thought Gojo was serious about it. Sure, Gojo was always full of confidence and loved to flirt, but this felt... different. He was actually pursuing something.

"You’re telling me you went out with her?" Geto asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was in disbelief. He hadn’t expected Gojo to get so serious about his bet. Not with their teacher.

Gojo’s smirk didn’t falter. "Yeah, I did," he replied nonchalantly. "I mean, I told you I was gonna win, didn’t I? It’s all part of the plan."

Geto stared at him for a moment, trying to process this new information. He had always thought Gojo’s antics were just part of his usual game, but now? It seemed like Gojo was actually invested in something—someone.

"Bro, you’re fucking serious?" Geto asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You went out with her? Our fucking teacher?"

Gojo grinned, leaning back against the lockers with his usual cocky attitude. "What can I say? I like a challenge," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "And she’s not as untouchable as you think. I’ll have her wrapped around my finger in no time."

Geto couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "You really are something else, Gojo. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But you’re playing with fire, you know that?"

Gojo just chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Fire’s my middle name."

Geto rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to talk sense into Gojo. Once his mind was set on something, there was no changing it.

"You’re crazy, man," Geto muttered, but there was a slight hint of admiration in his voice. "But I guess if anyone could pull it off, it’d be you."

Gojo shot him a wink. "Damn right," he said, before turning and walking down the hall, clearly satisfied with himself.

Geto watched him go, a mixture of concern and curiosity gnawing at him. He had no idea what Gojo was playing at, but one thing was for sure: things were about to get interesting.

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Later that evening, you were curled up on your couch, the soft glow of the TV illuminating your living room as you relaxed. Your favorite show was playing in the background, but your mind kept wandering. It had been a long week, and the tension between you and Gojo had only grown stronger.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen, and of course, it was from him.

"Heyyyy missyyyy, can you come over? I miss you sm😔"

You stared at the message, the words feeling like a punch to your chest. How could he always talk to you like that? So casual, so... carefree. It was almost as if he didn’t realize the line he was crossing, or maybe he just didn’t care.

You sighed, feeling your pulse quicken. Your first instinct was to say no. You knew it was wrong, that this whole thing was a terrible idea. But then, there was that feeling—the one that kept pulling you in every time you thought about him. That nagging curiosity, that unexplainable desire to see him again.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. No, I shouldn’t do this. You couldn’t afford to give in. You were his teacher, and he was... well, Gojo. The last thing you needed was to get tangled up in whatever game he was playing.

But your fingers hovered over the screen, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing a reply.

"I can’t just drop everything and come over, Gojo. What’s going on?"

You stared at the message, biting your lip. You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but part of you knew he wouldn’t make this easy. A few seconds later, your phone buzzed again.

"Oh come on, missy, I just wanna hang out! Besides, you know you want to see me :p"

You rolled your eyes at his confidence. He was relentless, and yet, there was something about his charm that always seemed to pull you back in. You set your phone down for a moment, taking a deep breath. You had to focus. You couldn’t let him get to you.

But then the next message popped up.

"Fine, don’t come if you don’t want to. But I’ll be here waiting... :D"

The smug tone in his words made your stomach flip. It was like he knew exactly how to get under your skin. You didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you did want to see him.

You stood up, pacing around your living room as you thought it over. Why is this so hard? You had to admit to yourself—he had gotten under your skin. You were a professional, you knew better than this. But that damn smirk, those teasing words... they kept running through your mind.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, your fingers were already typing.

"I’ll be there in 20 minutes."

You hit send, and as soon as the message left your phone, you regretted it. What am I doing?

But you couldn’t back out now. You quickly got up and grabbed your things, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. As you headed out the door, your heart was pounding. You were doing something you knew you shouldn’t, but it felt like there was no turning back now.

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You arrived at Gojo's place after what felt like the longest 20 minutes of your life. You parked your car and took a deep breath before stepping out. Your mind was racing with thoughts, but you tried to push them aside. You’re just going to hang out. Nothing more.

As you walked up to his door, your heart was pounding in your chest. You rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open. Gojo stood there, wearing a casual hoodie and sweatpants, his trademark smirk plastered across his face.

“Well, well, look who showed up,” he said, his voice smooth and playful, as if he knew he had you exactly where he wanted.

You tried to maintain your composure, crossing your arms as you stepped inside. “I hope you have a good reason for dragging me all the way over here.”

Gojo just chuckled, stepping aside to let you in. “Of course, missy. I’ve got plenty of reasons.” He shut the door behind you, locking it with a casual flick of his wrist. “But for now, just relax. I thought we could hang out and get to know each other better.”

You didn’t trust him, but there was no turning back now. You glanced around his apartment—modern, minimalist, and somehow very much what you expected from someone like him. He led you to the living room, where a couple of drinks and snacks were already laid out on the coffee table.

“Have a seat,” Gojo said, flopping onto the couch and patting the space next to him.

You hesitated for a moment, before sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. Your nerves were still buzzing, but you tried to ignore them. “So, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

Gojo leaned back, his eyes never leaving you. “I don’t know… maybe just how things are going. You’ve been really busy with school lately, huh? I thought you could use a little break.”

You crossed your arms, trying to stay calm, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to focus. “I’m fine, Gojo. I can handle my job just fine.”

He grinned, shifting a little closer to you. “Yeah, I know you can. You’re pretty impressive, Missy.”

His voice was low, teasing, and it made you feel both flattered and frustrated. You didn’t know how to respond to him anymore—every time you thought you had him figured out, he just threw you off balance again.

Gojo’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned in closer. “But I have to admit… I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. You’ve been on my mind.”

You froze, your heart racing. Was he serious?

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing,” you said, trying to sound composed.

Gojo just chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “I think it’s a very good thing.” He leaned back again, giving you some space, but you could still feel the tension between you two growing thicker by the second.

The silence stretched on for a few moments before Gojo broke it again. “Tell me, why did you listened to me and came here..?”

You swallowed, feeling your throat dry. “uh—...” you didn't know what to say.

Gojo smirked again, clearly not buying it. “I think there’s more to it. You came over because you wanted to see me too. Don’t lie.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was he right? Were you just fooling yourself?

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “Maybe.”

Gojo’s smirk widened as he moved closer again, this time brushing his hand lightly against yours. The contact sent a jolt through your body, and you immediately pulled your hand away, but Gojo didn’t miss it. “I knew it,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction.

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain control. “You don’t have to make this weird, Gojo.”

But he wasn’t listening anymore. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not making it weird, Missy. I’m just making it fun.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid, and now you were right here, in his apartment, with him so close you could feel the heat of his body.

You had no idea what was going to happen next, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t just a friendly hangout anymore.

[gnomeantics]

as is customary for me now i made notes on the space baby talkback! obviously space baby spoilers below so read at your own risk. but once more i present:

NOTES FROM THE SPACE BABY LIVESTREAM

8th February 2025, 8pm (my time, GMT) / 3pm (ET) / 12pm (PT)

Section 1: Preshow

I only caught what I assume to be the end of the preshow as I joined about 5 minutes before the show began! But this is what I got from that.

Space Baby is learning about the world through episodes with themes - Jaime described this as being like Sesame Street.

Each creator based their minisode on a "show bible" given to them by Jaime, which included the tone, aesthetics, and prompt; the creators didn't see each other's minisodes, and this was their first time seeing the finished product too

The format is a singular episode made of many minisodes which all have the same theme. On youtube these minisodes will be released separately.

Section 2: Space Baby

no notes here i was too locked in watching it

Section 3: Talkback

Jaime described the theme song as "Duck Tales and Gummy Bear with farts", and went on to discuss the "baby liquid noises" in it

We are all Space Baby (learning about the world/seeing the episodes from his perspective, through his eyes)

Minisode 1: Missed Connections (discussed with James Tolbert and Matt Dahan)

This episode was a Plan B - the first idea was scrapped as it wasn't in keeping with the theme of ennui, but it will hopefully be used later

Concept: what do we do when we are without our phones? (Phones being seen as a solution to ennui, so what happens when we don’t have that.) Matt said “the connections we make when we allow ourselves”.

Music: starts off quite disjointed and disconnected much like the people on their phones, then as the phones are discarded the drums, shaker, guitar, etc are added (described as puzzle pieces fitting together). When the phones come back it reverts to the disjointedness.

Dance: each person ends their phrase where the next begins

Use of colour: only red when the phones are there, full range of colour can be seen when the people connect

Creating a dialogue without speaking

Network Notes (discussed with Leigh Lahav)

Concept: “a helpless, lonely creator who succumbs to the whims of people who don’t speak his language”

The voice could be anything – aliens, inner voice…

For the voice, a “unique but familiar” sound was used with the theremin. Associated with spooky 50s horror B-movies (also Severance incidentally)

Leigh noted the use of VHS rewind throughout the show – 90s feeling of eras being mashed together, using example of 1920s-30s Looney Tunes and 1950s Hanna Barbera cartoons on VHS tapes in an increasingly digital era. Influenced style of the minisode with the Hanna Barbera type style, VHS rewind, theremin, PNG background.

Song is a take on Sugar by the Archies

Theme for all the minisodes – “what would Jaime like?”

Ruthy at Bat (discussed with Curt Mega and Angela Parrish)

This was shot 4 times as they were unhappy with the first 3 versions

The song devolves from cheesy and positive to scary and creepy. “What are the grossest things I can think of?” - Angela (thus HAD to include 2 girls 1 cup reference)

Jaime talked about the ability to take the grotesque and make it palatable and friendy

The guy who invented the WWW is called Tim Berners-Lee and I did message someone about that during the minisode because I knew who they were on about. And now they’re confirming it. (not integral to the notes but I wrote it down so it’s going here)

We’re hopefully getting a soundtrack release!!! And maybe a less abrupt ending (though to this James said “this is what they deserve” so maybe that’s a no on the ending)

Hey Baby (discussed with Denise Donovan)

What makes Space Baby so beautiful is the range of effort. Denise shot her piece in about ten minutes

She loved dating shows as a child e.g. The Dating Game so this helped inspire it

The inspiration for her character, Celeste, came from an inside joke with Lauren Lopez where they both call each other Celeste and act as independently wealthy women from the 90s

Celeste is a divorced corporate woman. Her ex-husband, Tom, couldn’t hack it. She played team sports competitively in high school and “took everything she learned in team sports and now the board room is her court”.

She’s the kind of relaxed mother who would plan something if she had the kids that weekend, but wouldn’t feel guilty about having a little Pinot Grigio too

Despite Denise saying that she put very little effort into her part Celeste in fact has a very fleshed out backstory and we would love to explore this further.

Hey Baby came together as they wanted as many people as possible in one sketch, and this could be filmed all over the country. Jaime sent everyone a purple rose so there was a more unified design, and gave them all one minute to make a character for a dating video. The time limit and improv of it all made it more low stakes.

Only Jaime knew what everyone else had done – the coherency of it was purely coincidental (“my sausage…” “not very long though!”)

The little PSA thing James did (did this have a name? I didn’t catch one) (discussed with James Tolbert)

Based on these shitty kids’ PSAs from the 90s with really famous celebrities, about how to be a better person.

The children in this (and Tim in Ruthy at Bat) were Curt’s students.

Pixie’s Playhouse (discussed with Tessa Netting)

Curt gave the overall vibe and Tessa ran with it

Took inspiration from Big Comfy Couch

Pixie is played very bubbly but also with a lot of sadness, lots of subtext. “Something is not right with Pixie” – Jaime

We need a Pixie deep dive a la Celeste!

Kim was not informed about Mann E Kim before its arrival. Curt did not tell Kim about it right away even when it was in their house. Mann E Kim was returned to Amazon.

Mann E Kim wears one of the Beautiful Blond Boys wigs from NMT2!

New Starkid merch needed: Starkid Skin Mask! (apparently it is VERY skinlike.)

“Do you think we killed him?” - Tessa, discussing David Lynch

Box (discussed with Sinead Persaud)

“Sean, who is here in spirit, much like David Lynch- EXCEPT SEAN IS ALIVE. GOD” – Jaime

I Saw The TV Glow / Zoom vibe

The idea for this came pre-Space Baby!

It’s about getting so lost in routine that you don’t see evils creeping up (usually evils from within, like mental health), and how things often have to be very upsetting/perilous for someone in order to be enjoyable to audiences

Jon arrived to the talkback and said that his partner studied mime, but he only showed the minisode to her after it was finished. He plays a mime

This was the second time Jon was cast as a mime in about four months, he says that these things come in threes so waiting for the next Jon mime

General talkback resumed! We all want to see more Celeste. Jon said “I yield my time to Celeste”

The next prompt may be decided by other people – maybe the audience? The chat seemed hooked on “whimsy”

James has secret projects. He mentioned also a musical miniseries based on Space Baby!!!

Space Baby is purple because this is Starkid’s unofficial colour.

Jon also has secret projects.

& this is where my notes end!

[immortalmrwavell]

Gym Tradition

(Original story posted October 8th 2022) Exactly as it was

This story was inspired by a prompt given to my by @tf-lover

I stepped towards the shower with an excitement bubbling in my chest. I could already hear his heavy footsteps behind me. This was always my favourite part. The sound of a towel being tossed to the side was drowned out as I twisted the shower handle. Within seconds warm water was cascading down my body, relaxing me for what was to come.

My body shuddered a little as a pair of large hands slid around my waist from behind. Looking down I grinned. I already had a pretty good idea who he’d taken over for me. There weren't many men at the gym today with such large dark skinned hands and there was one in particular I knew he’d had his eye on.

“Is that Mike?” I muttered just as the man pressed himself against my back, his semi-hard cock already feeling huge as it rubbed against my ass and lower back.

“Mhmm” He replied simply as his hands roamed my body. “I know we’ve used him before but he just looked so damn sexy today. When I saw him getting undressed I just couldn’t help myself.”

My boyfriend Eric and I have had this little tradition for a while now. Whenever the two of us go to the gym together, we’ll always scout out the other men at the gym. Size them up, inspect their bodies from afar, etc. Then once we’re finished, one of us will wait around in the locker room for one of those men to come through looking all hot and sweaty from his workout. And then, when nobody is looking, we’ll steal that guy’s body by jumping inside and possessing him! This time it was Eric’s turn to surprise me and he certainly didn’t disappoint.

“No need to apologise.” I smirked as I turned my head slightly and looked up to see none other than Mike, one of the local hunks that frequented the gym. “You wear his body so fuckin well.” I felt his cock twitch and harden a bit more as I said that while a cocky grin spread across his face.

The two of us shared a short but sweet kiss before he turned me back around and pressed me against the shower wall. “Oh I know. Why do you think I always get us to come to the gym on days that he’s around?” He chuckled but before I could respond he swiftly plunged his thick black cock inside me.

The shower continued to rain down on both of us though it did little to mask the groans. I’m always surprised at how no other men seem to walk in on us when we do this. I suppose they probably know better when they start to hear that lewd slapping noise of heavy balls smacking against an ass. Sometimes those balls were mine like yesterday when I took over another hunk, Dane, and went to town on Eric’s ass. But now it was Eric’s turn and he wasn’t holding anything back!

‘Mike’ slammed his massive rod into me relentlessly, holding onto my hips as he did to make sure he went as deep as possible. His hungry assault didn’t let up even for a second. Only growing more furious by the moment as he slammed against my prostate again and again. I could see why he liked this body so much, it’s stamina was insane! I’d already shot my load from his pounding alone!

Despite that though I was still just as hungry as he was. Hungry for his cock. Hungry for his load. And boy did he deliver. A loud, manly roar echoed through the shower room and probably the locker rooms as well as ‘Mike’ began draining his balls. His fat cock pumping me with load after load of thick cum, filling me up to the brim.

“Fuuuuuck Eric… that was amazing…” I muttered as he wrapped his arms around me again.

“Who’s Eric?” He grinned. “The only one here is Mike” He shifted his cock around inside me causing me to grunt a little. With that he leaned down against my ear and whispered. “Maybe we should find a way to make these possessions a bit more… permanent.”

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - part four

The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.

part one | part two | part three

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: the usual, mostly angst!

Masterlist

authors note: I am currently moving into a new home so I hope you enjoy reading this part until I can update again! I think there might be one more part, maybe two. If you have any requests, please send them in, I need the inspiration and am looking forward to my new writing set up!

The apartment feels suffocating, too quiet. Bucky is on his couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His stomach churns, not just from the headache pounding behind his eyes but from the gnawing pit of regret. 

The image of you, standing by the bar last night, arms crossed and eyes guarded—that’s what makes his hangover worse. Not the lingering taste of whiskey or the meaningless, hollow kiss he wishes he could take back. 

Just you. And the way you looked at him like he was exactly what he feared becoming—someone who couldn’t be trusted with your heart.

He runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. He needs air.

Grabbing his jacket, he steps outside, the cold midmorning air making his eyes sting. He sniffles and zips up his jacket, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he moves on instinct, as if his feet remember his usual route than his brain does in his current state. 

He makes it to the coffee shop, pausing before walking in, hoping to find you. He takes a deep breath and walks inside. His eyes wander to the back table but find it empty. His shoulders slump in disappointment. He tries to shake it off as he orders a cup of hazelnut coffee. He takes a seat at the same table that used to bring him comfort but now it just feels cold. He sits there, letting the untouched mug grow cold and stares ahead, remembering the way you smiled at him over the rim of your own mug. He hates how upset he feels, knowing he doesn’t deserve to feel this way. Since he brought you here, the atmosphere has changed. The sight of the empty chair in front of him twists anger and hopelessness deep in his chest.

The park is quieter this morning, the usual sounds of dogs barking and groups of old women chatting on their morning walks, are dulled by his intrusive thoughts. He walks along the path where you had strolled beside him, past the hill where you had sat together. He stops and visualizes the way you had tilted your head up, watching the light filter through the trees, and how he had caught himself watching you. He misses the smile that would appear on your face as he spoke about his past and how much he loved that he was the reason for it. The realization of that had startled him then. Now, it haunts him.

The Brooklyn Promenade stretches out before him, the skyline hazy against the afternoon sky. He leans against the railing, the same spot where you had stood. He remembers the look in your eyes, gleaming as you took in the Manhattan city outline. He had been drawn to that look on your face, the way you absorbed the world like it still had so much beauty to offer. And he had found himself watching you instead, more taken by your beauty and wonder— it made him feel some unfamiliar stir in his chest, something terrifying and real.

Now, the space beside him feels too empty.

The record store is the last stop. The familiar scent of vinyl and dust wrapping around him. Music plays softly over the speakers but it doesn’t make him feel the usual calmness. He walks to the listening booth, stopping in front of it, remembering the way you helped him through a difficult memory. 

He hadn’t realized just how much he liked seeing you experience his happiness. Now, all he can think about is how easily he’s managed to ruin everything.

He swipes a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. He’s spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, convincing himself it’s better that way. But you—you slipped through the tiny cracks. And last night, he shattered the fragility between you. 

Bucky swallows hard and leaves the store, his mind still a tangled mess of regret.

The fear had crept in before he could stop it. The moment he started wanting this—you—it became too real, too much. He had been here before, letting himself believe in something good, and look where it got him.

Losing his mom nearly broke him. Having Natalie leave right before shattered whatever pieces were left. And now, standing in the wreckage of his own making, he wonders if he’s doomed to repeat the same cycle—pushing people away before they have the chance to leave on their own.

He rubs a hand over his jaw, clenching as he exhales through his nose. He doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t know if he can.

But the thought of losing you for good? That terrifies him more than anything.

And for the first time in a long time, Bucky is scared of something that isn’t the past—he’s scared of the future.

And what it might look like without you in it.

A sharp knock rattles the apartment door. He knows it’s not you, you still haven’t returned from your hasty exit this morning. He texted you once, just wanting to know if you’re okay. He hates the thought of you walking around in an unfamiliar city. You read it but didn’t reply. 

He ignores the knocking at first, slouched on his couch, staring at the floor like it holds all the answers he can’t find. But the knocking comes again—louder, more impatient. He knows who it is.

With a sigh, Bucky pushes himself to his feet and opens the door.

Sam doesn’t wait for an invitation. He steps inside, arms crossed over his chest.

“Alright, man,” Sam greets with a stern look and pressing eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Bucky exhales sharply and shuts the door, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not in the mood for a lecture, Sam.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad.” Sam’s eyes darken as he takes a step closer. “Because somebody’s gotta say it. You say you don’t want to lose her, but you’re doing a damn good job pushing her away.”

Bucky clenches his jaw, looking away. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

Bucky groans, shoulders tensing. “You don’t get it—”

“No, I get it just fine.” Sam cuts him off, his voice sharper now. “You’re scared. You’ve been running from these feelings for years. And now, instead of dealing with your own shit, you’re just hurting her.”

Bucky flinches but doesn’t argue.

Sam exhales, shaking his head. His voice softens, but there’s no less weight behind it. “I remember what you were like after your mom died. You were wrecked, man. And Natalie? She just walked away. Left you when you needed someone the most.”

Bucky swallows hard, the memories hitting him like a punch to the gut. The loneliness. The heartbreak. The way he shut himself off from everything and everyone after that.

Sam steps closer. “You’ve been keeping people at a distance ever since. And maybe that made sense back then, but not now. Not with her.”

Bucky’s hands clench into fists at his sides. His throat feels tight. “I do care about her, Sam.” He looks away, jaw tightening. “More than I’ve cared about anyone in years.”

Sam nods, like he already knew that. “So what the hell are you doing?”

Bucky exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let someone in like that again. What if—” He stops himself before the rest of the thought can spill out.

Sam watches him for a long moment before speaking. “You don’t get to use that as an excuse forever, man. Yes, she will be going back to Oregon soon but that doesn’t mean she’s leaving you for good. It’s scary. It’s always gonna be scary. But if you don’t face that fear, you’re gonna lose the best damn thing that’s happened to you.”

Bucky lets out a slow, shaky breath, his chest aching. He doesn’t know what to say—because deep down, he knows Sam’s right.

The bell above the door chimes as Sam steps into the coffee shop, sweeping over the room until he lands on you. You’re by the window, hands curled around a cup of coffee that’s long gone cold, staring out at the city. But you’re not really seeing it. The movement of people, the rush of yellow cabs, the flickering neon signs—they’re all just blurs beyond the glass, as distant as the thoughts clouding your mind.

Sam doesn’t hesitate. He walks over and slides into the chair across from you.

“You look like you could use some company,” he says, resting his arms on the table.

You blink, snapping out of your daze. Your lips tug into a small, tired smile. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey,” he replies, but there’s a softness to his voice, a knowing look in his eyes. Like he already sees the storm inside you before you can even say a word. He leans forward slightly. “You doing okay?”

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the ceramic cup. The truth is, you’re not sure. The emotions tangled in your chest are too heavy to sort through. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’m just… trying to make sense of it all.”

Sam nods like he expected that. He glances around, then exhales. “You see him now, but you don’t know the version of him that I do—the guy who didn’t even want to get out of bed, who stopped talking to me for weeks.”

Your brows draw together as you look up at him. “After his mom passed?”

Sam nods. “Bucky was different after that. He was always the guy who carried everything on his shoulders, but when she died, it crushed him. And Natalie?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “She didn’t stick around. Their relationship was already rocky, but when grief hit, she made him feel like a burden.”

A sharp pang twists in your chest. Your mind flashes back to the way Bucky had spoken about Natalie. How his voice turned hollow, how his shoulders tensed like even the memory of her was something he wanted to bury deep. And suddenly, you understand it more. The way he hesitates, the way he pushes and pulls, how he keeps you at arm’s length even when his eyes tell a different story.

Sam continues, his voice quieter now. “He stopped showing up. Stopped answering calls, stopped seeing people. And when he did come back around… it wasn’t the same. He didn’t let anyone in after that. Not really.”

You lower your gaze, tracing the rim of your cup with your fingertip. The weight of Sam’s words settles into your chest, filling in the gaps of a story Bucky never quite told you himself.

“And now?” you ask, your voice softer.

Sam studies you for a long moment before answering. “Now, he’s trying. Or at least, he was—until he screwed up.”

A humorless laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “Yeah. Until he screwed up.”

Sam doesn’t argue with that. He just watches your reaction.

You swallow hard, staring down at your untouched coffee. “I don’t know what to do, Sam. I care about him. A lot. But I can’t be someone’s maybe. I can’t stand here waiting for him to decide if he wants me in his life as a friend or as more.”

Sam nods, thoughtful. “I get it. And I’m not here to make excuses for him. What he did was messed up. But I just thought you should know… he’s not a bad guy. He just doesn’t know how to let himself be happy.”

Your throat tightens. Because as much as you hurt, as much as you’re angry and disappointed—you know Sam’s right. You’ve seen it in the way Bucky looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, in the way his fingers hesitate before touching yours, like he’s afraid of wanting something he’s convinced himself he can’t have.

And now you see it in yourself, too. The ache in your chest isn’t just from what he did—it’s from knowing he doesn’t believe he deserves more than what his past taught him.

“I just…” You pause, your voice smaller now. “I want to be there for him.”

Sam exhales, offering you a sad smile. “Maybe he needs to figure out how to let himself be loved first.”

You nod slowly and let his words sink in. Understanding Bucky doesn’t erase the hurt. But it does leave you with one painful question:

How much longer can you wait for someone who’s still learning what he wants?

That night, when the knock on the guest room door comes, you’re not surprised.

You’ve been expecting it.

Still, you hesitate. Your fingers hover over the handle for a beat too long before you finally pull the door open.

Bucky stands on the other side, looking exhausted—like he hasn’t slept in days. His hoodie hangs loose on his frame, hands shoved deep into the front pocket, shoulders hunched like the weight of everything is pressing down on him all at once. But it’s his eyes that catch you. There’s no shield there, no guarded walls—just rawness. Regret.

“Can we talk?” he asks hesitantly.

You inhale slowly. There’s no anger left in you, not really—just exhaustion, just a dull ache where warmth used to be. Without a word, you step back, leaving just enough space for him to walk inside.

Bucky lingers for a moment before he moves, running a hand through his hair as he exhales. The silence stretches, pressing down on both of you.

Finally, he breaks it.

“I was wrong,” he says, voice rough. “I keep messing this up. I keep pushing you away, and I know why—I just don’t know how to stop.” He swallows hard, shifting his weight like he’s fighting himself. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to be what you need.”

His words land deep, stirring up everything you’ve been feeling since you got here—the warmth of him, the way he made you feel seen, the way he kept you close, then pushed you away in the same breath.

You tighten your arms around yourself, steadying your voice. “I care about you, Bucky.” The words come easier than you expect. “But I won’t be someone you keep at arm’s length just because you’re scared.”

His jaw tightens. His hands ball into fists at his sides. “I’m not scared of you,” he says too fast, then, softer, “I’m scared of what this means.”

“I get it,” you say carefully. “But fear isn’t an excuse to push a friend away and drown your sorrows in alcohol when I’m here because of you. You wanted me here, Bucky. And everything was going great—until Natalie showed up, and suddenly, it was like you weren’t even the same person anymore.”

Bucky flinches, his lips pressing together in frustration. 

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “I understand if seeing her brought up a lot for you. If it messed with your head. But why couldn’t you talk to me about it? We’ve traded letters for months, you’ve been open with me in ways I don’t think you’ve been with anyone else. But now, in person, it feels like there’s a part of you you’re hiding on purpose.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose as he responds. “I wasn’t trying to hide. I just… I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let myself have something good without waiting for it to go wrong.”

Your chest tightens. “That’s the thing, Bucky,” you say softly. “I wasn’t waiting for anything to go wrong. I was just here. I am here”

His breath stutters, and for a second, you see something crack in his expression.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you believe him. You really do.

But believing him doesn’t change the fact that something in you has shifted.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, feeling the ache of the words before you even say them. “I think it’s time for me to go home.”

Bucky’s head snaps up, his whole body going still. “What?”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, to keep your voice level. “I came here to spend time with you. To figure out how we would be together. And I think I have.”

Something flickers across his face—panic, maybe. Regret. The kind that comes too late.

Bucky’s lips part like he wants to argue, to fight, but no words come out. Because what could he say?

And then, after a long, agonizing beat, he nods. Once. Just enough to let you go.

The morning light filters through the window, casting soft golden streaks across the ceiling. You’ve been awake for hours, staring at the shifting light patterns. Sleep never really came last night—not when your mind kept replaying every moment, every word, every hesitation in Bucky’s voice.

This isn’t how you imagined this trip ending.

You wanted clarity. Connection. A reason to stay.

Instead, you’re left with the stark realization that no matter how much you care about Bucky, no matter how much he might care about you, he’s stuck in a place you can’t reach. And you won’t break yourself trying to pull him out.

The thought sits heavy in your chest as you finally force yourself to move. Each motion feels mechanical—pulling your suitcase from the corner, folding clothes with a numb detachment. You hesitate over the little things he’s given you, the small tokens of your time together—his hoodie draped over the chair, the vinyl from the record store, a book he’d set on your nightstand with a quiet, “Thought you’d like this.”

You trace your fingers over the spine before slipping it into your bag.

Leaving feels wrong. It feels like severing something that was never meant to be broken. But staying? Staying would hurt more.

You reach for your phone, your voice quiet but firm as you reschedule your flight and call Wanda to see if she can be there to pick you up. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon… No, it’s fine. I’m ready to come home.”

The words feel like a lie even as you say them.

Bucky doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.

He was heading to the kitchen when he heard your voice from the guest room. He freezes in place, your words slamming into him like a gut punch.

"I’m ready to come home."

The finality in your tone knocks the breath from his lungs. You’re leaving.

He knew this trip wasn’t permanent, but hearing it like this—knowing you’re leaving now, that you might never come back—makes his insides unravel.

His grip tightens on the edge of the counter, his pulse a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His mind races through every moment—the way you laughed with Sam at the bar, the way you fit so easily into his world, the way your fingers brushed his as you walked around his city. The way you looked at him last night, waiting for something he couldn’t give, and the way he hated himself for it.

He wants to stop you. To tell you not to go. To finally say everything he’s been too afraid to say.

But what if it’s too late?

What if he’s already lost you?

His feet move before he makes the decision. He’s at your door in an instant, his breath uneven, his heart pounding like it’s trying to break free from his chest.

He lifts a hand to knock—hesitates.

Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he pushes the door open.

You turn, startled, eyes wide as you clutch a sweater to your chest. The sight of you mid-pack, standing in the middle of a room that already feels emptier, hits him harder than he expects.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Bucky swallows hard, his voice rough when he finally finds it. “You don’t have to go.”

Your breath catches, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. “Bucky…”

“I know I messed up,” he rushes out, stepping closer. “I know I pushed you away. And I know I don’t deserve to ask you this, but…” He exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Stay. Just—stay a little longer.”

You close your eyes briefly, willing yourself to hold firm. “I can’t.”

The words are soft, but they land like a hammer between you.

Bucky’s jaw tightens, his expression crumbling for a fraction of a second. He nods, stepping back as if to brace himself. “Right.”

You watch him, waiting for something—an argument, a plea, anything that might make this easier. But he doesn’t fight you. He just looks at you, and for the first time, you see it clearly.

Bucky doesn’t know how to fight for someone to stay.

And you can’t be the one to teach him.

The ride to the airport is quiet.

Bucky insisted on driving you, and despite everything, you let him. Maybe because you weren’t ready to say goodbye back at his place, maybe because a part of you wanted just a little more time with him.

Now, sitting in the passenger seat of his car, watching the city blur past, the silence stretches between you like a thread pulled too tight, on the verge of snapping.

He grips the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles taut. Every so often, he glances over at you, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

Neither of you turn on the radio.

Neither of you break the silence.

Because what is there to say?

You’re leaving. And this time, Bucky isn’t stopping you.

The airport comes into view too soon, a cold reminder that this is real, that in a few minutes, you’ll be walking through those doors and out of his life.

He pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park, exhaling like it physically pains him.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, fingers trembling slightly as you reach for your suitcase in the backseat. When you turn back around, Bucky is already out of the car, stepping around to meet you. The weight in his eyes nearly makes you stumble.

You shift on your feet, gripping the suitcase handle too tightly. “You didn’t have to drive me.”

He tries to swallow the thick sorrowness that’s creeping its way up. “Yeah, I did.”

A pause.

The wind picks up, rustling your hair.

Bucky shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his gaze flickering over your face, trying to commit every detail to his memory. “I, uh…” He clears his throat, shifting on his feet. “I know I don’t deserve to ask, but—will you still write to me?”

The words nearly break you.

You exhale sharply, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He nods stiffly, looking down as he expected that answer.

You step closer, hesitating just a fraction before reaching for him. Your fingers brush over his forearm first, then move up, slowly wrapping around his back. And Bucky—Bucky doesn’t hesitate at all.

His arms come around you in an instant, pulling you against his chest with an urgency that nearly knocks the breath out of you. His grip is strong, desperate, he’s afraid to let go.

Your face presses against the worn fabric of his jacket, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe him in—his warmth, his quiet strength, the scent of the familiarity and fleetingness of his presence.

You don’t know how long you stand there, wrapped up in each other, neither one of you willing to be the first to pull away.

But then the announcement sounds out over the speakers, a reminder of where you are.

You close your eyes and force yourself to step back. Bucky’s arms drop to his sides, fingers flexing because he wants to reach for you again but knows he can’t.

“Take care of yourself, Bucky,” you whisper, holding back tears threatening to fall. 

His jaw tightens. “You too.”

You grab your suitcase, forcing your feet to move toward the doors, toward the life waiting for you in Oregon.

You don’t look back.

You can’t.

But if you did, you’d see Bucky standing there, unmoving, eyes glued to you as you disappeared from him.

And as he finally drags himself back to his car, gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing holding him together, the tears start flowing. .

Bucky unlocks the door to his apartment, stepping inside as silence greets him. He exhales slowly, taking off his boots and jacket and makes his way to the kitchen. His hand hovers over the light switch, hesitating.

His eyes land on the mug you last used. He picked it up for you before you arrived, wanting you to have something of your own while you stayed here. He remembered you writing to him that you always have a mug of tea before bed every night. 

He wanted to make you feel at home or at least like his home could be yours too. 

He walks over to the sink and picks it up, noticing it still full and untouched of dark brown liquid. 

His grip tightens around the ceramic, his jaw clenching as he stares down into the empty sink. The anger isn’t really at the mug, or even at you—it’s at himself. 

With a sharp inhale, he sets the mug back down. Not because he wants to, but because he knows if he doesn’t, it’ll end up shattered in his hands.

Bucky doesn’t think—he just moves.

He grabs his running shoes, shoves his headphones in and steps out into the cold night air. The Brooklyn streets are quieter now. He starts off at a steady pace, his breath coming in measured exhales, his body falling into the familiar rhythm of running.

When the weight of the world gets too heavy, when the noise in his head refuses to settle, this is what he does. He runs until his legs burn, until his lungs ache, until there’s nothing left but the sound of his feet hitting the pavement and the steady pounding of his heart.

But tonight, it doesn’t work.

Because tonight, every step feels like he’s chasing something he already lost.

His mind flashes back to you—the way your shoulders tensed at the airport, like you were holding back everything you really wanted to say. The way you held onto him just a second longer during that last hug before finally letting go.

Bucky pushes himself harder, his feet slamming against the pavement as he takes a sharp turn down a quieter street. His breathing is ragged now, his body screaming for him to slow down, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Because stopping means thinking, and thinking means feeling, and he doesn’t want to feel this.

He runs past the coffee shop and his stomach clenches. He runs past the record store where he  shared such a thoughtful, tough memory with you.

Everywhere he goes, you’re still there.

He finally comes to a stop at the Brooklyn Promenade, hands on his knees, chest heaving as he stares out at the city lights reflecting over the water. He used to love this view. Used to come here when he needed clarity.

But right now, all he sees is the ghost of you standing beside him, a memory he can’t outrun.

The realization crashes over him like a wave, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky feels it all.

The regret. The longing. The emptiness you left behind.

And for the first time, he doesn’t know if running will ever be enough to escape.

Thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog or comment below, I love hearing your thoughts and feedback!

[adumbratrapedme]

Kita x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between kita and a reader.

wc. idk | genre. angst to fluff |cw/tags. angst to fluff, teen pregnancy mentions, etc.

teen pregnancy series masterlist here!

NOTE: Lately, I’ve been rereading Love is an Illusion by Fargo—a series that meant a lot to my 15-year-old, friendless self and Kita’s parts in my story will be heavily inspired by it. Fargo gave me a vision, and I’m going with it. Of course, it won’t be 100% like Love is an Illusion, but I’m drawing inspiration from it for a few key conflicts. Just wanted to let everyone know!

general headcanons:

╭⋅We know kita was raised by his grandma so he def. was raised with a very traditional mindset, giving him a strong sense of responsibility, ╭⋅The moment Kita finds out about the pregnancy, he’s all in. His sense of responsibility kicks in, and he’s committed to the idea of making things work, no matter what it takes. His decision to marry isn’t rushed or impulsive—he truly believes it’s the only way to handle the situation properly, it’s not a question of if, it’s a question of how. ╭⋅Also sees marriage as a natural step when you’re in a relationship, and even more so when a child is involved. To him, it’s about ensuring that the family unit is stable and that everyone is taken care of. ╭⋅He is the type of person who remains calm in any situation, but this can be overwhelming for someone like you, since he tends to approach problems with logic and practicality which can make him seem distant when you just want emotional reassurance. ╭⋅Despite this, Kita genuinely believes he’s doing what’s best for you, and it takes time for him to understand that maybe u might need more from him than just steady support. ╭⋅Even with his sometimes cold demeanor, Kita has a surprisingly strong paternal instinct. The idea of becoming a father and raising his child with you is something he takes very seriously. While he’s calm, you can tell by his actions that he’s preparing himself for the long haul, making sure everything is in place for their future. ╭⋅I also feel or want to headcanon that kita’s grandmother raised him with the belief that family is everything, so he is fiercely protective of those he cares about, and while he’s not overbearing, he has a way of quietly supporting you through everything.

You sat on the edge of the school rooftop, legs tucked to your chest, eyes glued to the horizon. The wind ruffled your uniform, and the faint sounds of students below felt distant, like they belonged to a different world.

Because right now, your world was crumbling.

The pregnancy test was still in your bag. As if you needed to see it again to believe it.

Positive.

Your breath hitched. How the hell did this happen?! Well, okay, obviously, you knew how, but… you and Kita had always been careful. Sure, sometimes things got heated, and sure, Kita was frustratingly good at making you lose your mind, but still—how did it end up like this?

Your hands clenched around the fabric of your skirt. This is a nightmare.

"(Y/N)."

Your body tensed at the familiar voice. Heavy footsteps. The scrape of the door closing behind him.

Kita.

You didn’t turn around, but you knew he was already beside you, his presence as steady as ever.

"You missed lunch," he said simply.

Your stomach twisted. You bit your lip, keeping your eyes on the sky. "Wasn’t hungry."

A pause. Then—

"You're lying."

Your jaw clenched. Of course, he could tell. Kita never pried. He never pushed. But he also never let things slide, not when it came to you.

A warm hand settled on the top of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair in that absentminded way he always did when he knew you were upset. Usually, it calmed you down. Today, it just made your heart ache.

You swallowed hard. “Kita…”

"Hm?"

Your hands trembled. The words caught in your throat, tangled and suffocating.

How do you even say something like this?

Your chest felt tight. You gritted your teeth, then blurted out, "I’m pregnant."

Silence.

The wind howled between you, rustling the rooftop fence.

Slowly, you turned your head to look at him. Kita’s face was unreadable, his sharp golden eyes locked onto yours, unwavering.

Then, he exhaled. "I see."

…That was it?

Your stomach twisted. "That’s all you have to say?"

Kita hummed thoughtfully. Then, with a tone as steady as ever, he said, "We’ll get married."

Your brain short-circuited. "HUH?"

His expression didn’t waver. "We’ll get married," he repeated, as if he were just stating a fact. "I’ll talk to my grandma first. Then we’ll tell to your parents."

Your jaw dropped. "Are you insane?!"

Kita blinked, confused. "No."

You gawked at him. "Kita, we’re still in high school! You’re just—just deciding this on your own?!"

His brows furrowed slightly. "What’s there to decide?"

You wanted to scream. How could he be so calm about this?! Your entire world was falling apart, and he was acting like you’d just told him you forgot your umbrella.

"You don’t—!" You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. "You don’t have to do this out of obligation."

Kita frowned. "It ain’t obligation. It’s responsibility."

"You don’t even seem shocked!"

He gave you a long, considering look. Then, with infuriating calm, he said, "Well… I had a feeling."

You nearly choked. "A feeling?!"

Kita nodded. "You've been getting dizzy. Your appetite’s been weird. And you stopped wanting coffee."

Your eye twitched. "That doesn’t mean I’m pregnant!"

Kita just shrugged. "Still figured I’d prepare myself for the possibility."

Oh. Oh, my God.

This was so Kita. Of course he’d already processed this before you even knew. Of course he’d seen all the signs, analyzed them, and just waited for you to come to him.

Your entire body trembled, overwhelmed with frustration, panic, and the unbearable weight of reality crashing down on you. Your breath hitched. "I-I can’t do this," you whispered.

Kita finally moved closer, his hand cupping the back of your head, pulling you forward until your forehead rested against his chest. His heart was steady, strong, unshaken.

"You're not alone," he murmured. "I got you."

Your fingers curled into his uniform. "But…" Your voice was barely a whisper. "Do you even love me?"

Kita exhaled through his nose, his fingers threading through your hair.

"Love ain't just words, (Y/N)," he said. "It's action. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

Your chest tightened.

This was really happening.

And Kita Shinsuke was not letting go.

General Taglist:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02 @alpha-mommy69 @curlyhairkk @b1xi @reuka1 @feyrfly @elmaa127

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! also if u only want to be tagged on specific characters.

-if i forgor someone pls tell me and dont be shy, i get really lost with the taglist thingy ahhh