#but there's something about the organized coming together of it

[mr-tony-stark]

Tony waded out into the water and watched as Clint waded in, his eyebrows drawing together as he considered what he said.  “You think?” he asked.  He wasn’t so sure.  Not that he hated it or wanted to leave, or anything like that.  But this early stage felt quite chaotic and stressful.  He was still talking to Cap about Avengers things, and running Stark Industries.  Stocks had gone down because he’d just vanished off the face of the earth and people were speculating he’d gone on another bender and no new tech would come out.  That meant he was dealing with a lot of emails and video calls.  Plus there was trying to organize the new lab.  And all of that with a spotty internet connection because of how remote the farm was.

All of that Tony knew was temporary.  It wasn’t a sign that it wouldn’t work here.  It wasn’t a sign of anything.  It was just what it was and once he set up satellite internet and the building was done he could actually relax and see if it would work fully with him there.  But it did mean that relaxed wasn’t something he was feeling much of while he moved it to that point.

“You sure?  I mean, I did accuse you of gaslighting me into a relationship today."

“I’m ready,” he spoke and smiled a little as he undressed aswell. He couldn’t help but watch Tony jog into the water and smiled a little bit. “It suits you,” he spoke and walked out into the water aswell. “Being out here I mean,” he spoke and smiled slightly as he dove in and came back up letting out a happy sigh as he slicked his hair back.

“You just seem so comfortable and relaxed,” he spoke and nodded gently smiling happily over at him and swam close and gripped his hand pulling him closer.

[bnyf]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#1 crush ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒yandere male elf x female human reader ♡

┊ warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic, sexual content, noncon, kidnapping, size difference, strange dynamic.

╰﹕୨୧﹒authoress note : after receiving some unwanted but much needed criticism i've tried my hand at writing a little better and fixing errors. i apologize in advance if there's any errors or gaps in my writing, i also apologize for the messed up story that this is. ik some people don't like the way i write the reader but like??? idgaf sorry anyways other than that, i hope you guys enjoy, please read the warnings and proceed with caution <3 i would also like to say that this post is kinda inspired by a very popular yandere artist on here with a male elf oc

what a treacherous fate had befallen on a vitreous soul such as yourself.

it truly is unfortunate, you're so unlucky. how could your luck have run so low? to think, this everyday mundane routine would now be your nightmarish reality was stomach wrenching. you never did anything to deserve this, this was simply some sort of faulty by the gods, right? there's no way this is your horrible ending. no way.

you sobbed and yet... he hummed and chastised you by smacking your puffy clitorous.

it's always like this, it's been like this for...? a while now apparently. you've completely lost track of time. maybe a month or so if you're playing the guessing game.

well, if it wasn't obvious already, you've been taken hostage by an insane elven prince. probably the most insanely angelic, good-looking, prettiest and sick minded male you've ever met.

he really needs professional help. something that he can more than afford considering his house is almost made of gold, his herculean physique adored and draped only with the most expensive clothes, jewels, silks, soaps and scented creams and perfumes. his perfume, so extravagant, worth more than your vital organs all put together. that was the part you admired about elven people, they are so intelligent, so ahead of humans.

but to him? therapy is cheap and free! you're the first ever human he's laid eyes on and that's all he really needs. and really, you're the one to blame for his actions. it's all you. so you should take responsibility, right?

he's sought out humans before, trying to break the barrier between the two worlds and connect with them. he was damn near obsessed with coming into contact with the human realm and ruling over them like a god despite the fact that any sort of magic that threatens to break the barrier and connect the realms or offer passage through the two realms is absolutely forbidden. this is such a serious offense that if caught violating, can lead to public execution.

but your little caregiver did not! give one flying hoot at all, nor did the rules really even apply to royals as the royals participated in a lot of magical corruption and kept it all on the low.

so what a surprise! not really that he'd succeed in his conquest. not entirely since he'd only manage to bring one human to the elven realm, but now he knows for sure he's making great progress. and not only succeed in getting a nitty gritty palms on any human, but such a cute little human female like yourself.

humans are a lot more fragile, smaller, weaker, lesser intelligent beings, almost like a sub species from elves. so that's why you must be taken care of with so much extra love and attentiveness. all this was his reasoning for treating you like a minor being, enabling you and excuses for his weird kinks.

there was no way you'd ever dream of over powering him, not when a large veiny arm wrapped so tightly around your wrists, holding it behind your back, and the other with it's slender long digits effortlessly reaching your g spot.

it was 'bath time' or whatever, which called for a thorough inspection and cleanse. or just another excuse to use your body to his likings.

his tongue lap at your folds and clit, moaning in delight and relishing in all your juices spraying him. his voice muffled by your pussy, making wet sounds as he attempts to praise your gorgeous body: all of which sounds like incohesive unhinged, obsessive rambling of course.

if you ignore this scene and focus on other small things around you maybe you can, somewhat imagine yourself having a luxurious warm bath in the tub, with flowers and scented stuff in the water, scented candles creating a relaxing atmosphere, marvelous one-sided glass view... maybe not the one-sided glass view that's actually a little too scary to think about but yeah, you're having a nice little bath.

the most relaxing bath in the most prettiest and pearliest tiled bathroom you've ever been in.

your insides contorts though and you find yourself coming again undone on those perfectly manicured fingers of his, messing up his perfect face with your essence. your voice is loud and echoes throughout the bathroom, all the way into the bedroom and closet but never enough to each anyone's ears as he's casted multiple protective barrier spells to keep your presence unknown from other elven people. you've came like 5 times already and he won't let you rest, getting high off your pussy juices.

"poor baby, you look so tired, shhh don't worry~ mama will take care of everything, just relax and be good for me, okay? it'll all be over soon, my darling ^ mama will get you all cleaned up and dressed, right after this..." you wish you had the energy to welp out an 'ewwwwww da fuck?!' right about now but you were so weak and constantly sedated. you felt helpless as his bulbous tip hits your pussy, rubbing it back and forth to coat and lubricate himself with your juices. he leisurely teases, making your hole spasm and grasp around nothing, your body reacting in a lovely manner to his advances.

he licks his lips, only putting the tip in before quickly pulling back out. taking his time cause he wants to drive you insane like him. and luckily for him, his mind games always work so well.

his precum leaking and smearing you in the process as he rubs his whole length, measuring your pelvic area with his cock length and soon putting it in to see how far it'll actually go.

you almost blacked out. even though he prepped you well for this it still stings, he's just too big. and you? way too tight, squeezing him like you want every last drop of his seed, has him shivering and grunting in the process.

"fck- you're so tight, baby ngh~"

has him seeing stars and by the time he's balls deep in you and hitting the tip of your womb, you're a drooling and moaning mess. can't even control his obsessive thoughts from spilling out his mouth, he immediately gets to work on those hips too like a wild animal, only sparing a few seconds to sloppily kiss you and slap your thick behind.

it only takes a few minutes before he breaks his load inside you and shifts you into another position, manhandling you and roughing you up like a meat toilet, all for his own enjoyment and pleasure.

his long silky hair tickling your skin. when you think about it, he's so masculine with many feminine traits too, like the perfect balance actually and it is to be expected from an elf. he always wants to be in control, always wants to take care of you like a god watching over his creation. it sorta overlaps with him calling himself your mama but it makes sense in a way. he doesn't see himself as a woman in any sort of way, he just wants unrestricted authority over you.

your tears stream down your cheeks which he licks away and kisses, it only hurts your head trying to rationalize this or even understand it, your vision goes all blurry and for the next few rounds, your in and out of consciousness while being filled.

when you're awake again, you're draped in silk half naked and powdered up, you feel your caretakers strong arms wrapped around you, spooning you as rubs circles into your skin. he's also half naked with nothing but a cloth draped around himself. you both lay on a soft layered bed with many squishy pillows and blankies. fruits, steam veggies and grilled meat laid out on a silver tray for you to enjoy, though your stomach was filled with his cum.

[thehighpriestess1]

Make a wish : Secret spilled

Warning: Dark themes. Kissing scene. Mentions accident. Yandere themes

Genre: Angst, fluff

Pairing: Gojo x y/n, Nanami x y/n

word count : 20k+

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Geto and Shoko sat in heavy silence on the worn-out couch, the air thick with unspoken concerns. Gojo had called them both out of the blue, demanding they drop everything and come to Kyoto. He hadn’t given them much to go on—just that it was serious. Shoko hoped this would finally explain his erratic behavior, the way he had been distant, distracted, and lost in thoughts he refused to share.

Geto, on the other hand, hated being blindsided. Ever since they were kids, Gojo had shared everything with him—the good, the bad, and the unbearable. There was no secret too big, no pain too deep that Gojo couldn’t unload onto him. And yet, this time… nothing. No hints, no warnings. Just silence. His fingers curled into the fabric of his pants as he exhaled sharply, trying to swallow his frustration. He had never been good at waiting, and the longer Gojo kept them in the dark, the more uneasy he felt. They had been through hell together. They had seen each other at their absolute worst. So why was Gojo shutting them out now?

The door creaked open, and Gojo walked in, tugging at his tie as if it were suffocating him. He looked exhausted, more so than either of them had ever seen before—like he hadn’t slept in days, maybe weeks. His usual effortless swagger was gone, replaced by a sluggishness that weighed him down. He barely managed a weak, “Hi,” before dropping onto the couch across from them. His head fell back against the cushions, eyes closed, as if he were trying to organize his thoughts.

Shoko and Geto exchanged a look.

Gojo’s fingers trembled slightly as he rubbed his temples, his mind racing. Now that they were here, now that the two people he trusted most were sitting right in front of him, how was he supposed to say this out loud? Where did he even begin?

Finally, he straightened up, his usually vibrant eyes clouded with something unrecognizable. He looked at them—no, he pleaded with them.

“Hi?” Shoko echoed, raising an unimpressed brow. “You called us all the way here just to say ‘hi’?”

“Shoko—”

“No, Suguru.” She cut Geto off sharply. “This is ridiculous.” Her sharp gaze snapped back to Gojo. “What the hell is going on with you? I want to know. Now.”

Gojo’s gaze dropped to the floor, his hands clenching together. His breathing was unsteady. “I… I don’t know how to tell you.” His voice was quiet, almost fragile.

“Try,” Geto said, his tone softer this time.

Gojo inhaled deeply, forcing himself to steady his shaking hands. “Alright,” he murmured, bracing himself. “What I’m about to tell you is going to sound impossible. Completely unbelievable, even. But I can prove it happened.” He hesitated, then added, “And I owe you both an apology, though you won’t understand why just yet.”

Shoko frowned, leaning forward. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Gojo exhaled sharply. “I met Y/N five years ago… in 2021.”

Geto blinked. “Gojo. This year is 2021.”

“Please, just let me finish.” Gojo’s voice was almost desperate now. “At first… it was just physical attraction. She was—” He stopped for a second, as if even thinking about her was enough to break him. “She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. But over time, I fell for her. Not just her looks, but her kindness, her sincerity—everything about her.”

Gojo swallowed thickly, his throat burning as if the weight of his own words was choking him from the inside out. His hands trembled in his lap, his fingers twisting together, gripping so tightly it felt like they might snap. His eyes, usually so vibrant, so full of an effortless confidence, were now hollow and glassy with unshed tears. He wasn’t even sure where to begin. His voice cracked when he finally spoke, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. For the next two hours, he unraveled everything. Every single horrifying, twisted, desperate thing he had done over those five years.

He told them how it started small. Lies so insignificant they barely felt like lies at all. A half-truth here, a manipulated circumstance there. He convinced himself it was harmless. That he was just making sure you stayed close, just guiding things in the right direction. But control is a hungry thing. It grows, swallows you whole, and before he knew it, he wasn’t just nudging fate—he was rewriting it.

He controlled who you saw, who you spoke to. He made sure the people you loved—the ones who could have pulled you away from him—saw you as someone untrustworthy, someone difficult, someone selfish. He whispered poison into the ears of those around you, twisting narratives until even you began to doubt yourself. And when you had nowhere else to turn, when the world had become too unkind, too lonely—he was there. He was the only one left. The only one who truly understood you. It wasn’t love. It was possession. And it destroyed you.

Gojo's voice wavered as he spoke, his guilt crushing him under its weight. His confession was a slow, agonizing bleed. He told them how, at first, he didn’t even realize what he had done. He had been blinded by his own obsession, so drunk on the idea of having you, keeping you, that he had ignored the way you began to wither right in front of him. He ignored the exhaustion in your voice, the way your shoulders curled inward, the way you stopped fighting back.

And then one day, you broke.

You shattered into something unrecognizable, and it was his hands that had done it.

His fingers curled against his palms, nails biting into his skin as he forced himself to say it—how in the end, he had pushed you too far. How you had looked at him with hollow, empty eyes, the love you once held for him long gone, and how you made a choice he never thought you would. A choice he wasn’t sure he would ever forgive himself for forcing upon you.

Shoko’s breath hitched. Geto sat rigid, his expression unreadable.

Gojo wiped a shaky hand down his face, exhaling unsteadily before forcing himself to continue.

He explained how fate had interfered, how some force greater than him had dragged him back to this moment. A second chance to undo the irreversible. A cruel gift. A punishment disguised as mercy.

“I was given a chance to fix it,” Gojo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “To fix me.”

The room was thick with silence. It suffocated him, wrapped around his throat like a noose.

Shoko stared at him like he was something utterly foreign, something beyond comprehension.

Geto looked at him, expression dark, unreadable.

Then—

“…What?” Shoko’s voice was flat, empty of its usual dry amusement, devoid of even disbelief.

“How can you prove any of this”, Geto asked.

Gojo looked at Shoko, “There is going to be a fire at the hospital, and you were supposed to get injured..badly. You ended up in a coma for three months and your recovery took even longer”.

“We-When is this fire supposed to happen?”. She asked.

“Today”. Gojo replied flatly. “In about two hours”.

Shoko didn’t want to believe him. But what if, what if… “What caused the fire?”.

Gojo shrugged defeatedly, “I don’t know. We never found out”.

“What if you cause this fire in order to prove your story?”. Geto asked.

It pained Gojo not being believed by his own best friend but he couldn’t blame Geto. “I know I have done terrible things but I am not a monster. I will never kill innocent people to prove a point”.

Gojo met their gazes, his own eyes wide, pleading.

Please, please believe me.

The suffocating silence continued to press down on them, heavy and unrelenting. The waiting was unbearable.

Shoko let out a sharp breath, rubbing her temples. “I need a shower,” she muttered, pushing herself up from the couch.

Geto stood as well. “Yeah… me too.” His voice was low, distant.

Gojo didn’t look at them as they left. He simply sat there, fingers laced together, staring at nothing in particular.

Shoko stood under the hot spray of the shower, steam curling around her, but the heat did nothing to ease the tension in her shoulders.

Her mind was an unrelenting storm, replaying Gojo’s words over and over again.

I was given a chance to fix it. To fix me.

It was insane. Impossible. Time travel? Fate meddling? It sounded like something ripped straight out of a bad sci-fi movie. And yet… something about the way he spoke, the way his voice cracked, the way his hands trembled, made it hard to completely dismiss.

What unsettled her the most was the raw guilt in his eyes. She had known Gojo for years—seen him at his best and worst—but she had never seen him like this before. So stripped of his usual arrogance. So completely defeated.

What if it’s true?

She clenched her fists, the water running over her skin. She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to call him crazy and be done with it. But something deep inside her gnawed at that certainty.

What if he really had been a monster in another life?

And what if this was his punishment?

Geto leaned against the shower wall, letting the water beat against his back as he closed his eyes.

Gojo’s story made no sense. None.

And yet… he couldn’t shake the way his best friend had spoken, the weight behind his words. Gojo had always been impulsive, reckless, but never this shaken. Never this desperate.

But more than that, what unsettled Geto the most was the implication.

If Gojo had really done all those things—if he had lied, manipulated, and ruined someone just to keep them close—what did that say about him and Shoko?

Would he have done the same to them, given enough time?

The thought made his stomach twist.

He pressed his palms against his face, exhaling sharply. He hated not knowing what to believe. He hated that a part of him was even considering the possibility.

But he needed proof.

If Gojo was telling the truth, they would get it soon enough.

Shoko stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around her hair. She grabbed a comb and sat in front of the mirror, dragging it through her damp strands when—

Buzz.

Her phone vibrated on the table. She frowned and picked it up.

A notification from a news alert.

Her breath hitched as she read the words.

Fire breaks out at local medical facility in Tokyo metropolitan area. Cause still unknown.

Shoko’s blood ran cold.

She read it again. And again. It originated on the 15th floor, right where her office was.

It couldn’t be real.

Her fingers trembled as she clicked on the article, scanning through the details. The fire had started exactly when Gojo said it would. People had been injured. If she had been there, just like he claimed, she would have been one of them.

The comb slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor.

No. No. No.

She shot up, her legs moving before she could think.

She stormed into the living room, her breath ragged, anger and unease rolling off her in waves.

Gojo was sitting there, slouched on the couch, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He swirled it lazily, staring at the rippling surface, his expression unreadable.

“Gojo!”

He barely lifted his head. “Back already?” His voice was quiet, distant.

Shoko’s fingers curled into fists. “The fire. It happened.”

Gojo hummed, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I know.”

Something in her snapped. “FUCK!!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!”

He finally looked at her then, and something in his gaze made her freeze. It wasn’t smugness, wasn’t satisfaction at being proven right.

It was exhausting. Guilt.

Shoko’s breath came in short, shallow bursts. She wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, but the words tangled in her throat.

Geto walked in a second later, towel draped over his shoulders, his face unreadable. But one glance at Shoko and the tense set of her jaw told him everything.

He inhaled sharply. “It really happened, didn’t it?”

Shoko nodded stiffly.

Geto turned to Gojo, his expression darkening. “Then tell us everything. Right now.”

Gojo exhaled, leaning back against the couch.

“You won’t like it,” he warned.

Geto’s voice was quiet but firm. “Tell us anyway.”

And so, he did.

This time, neither of them doubted him.

But neither of them knew if they could ever look at him the same way again.

Thick silence settled over the room once again. The only sound was the faint clinking of ice against glass as Gojo slowly turned the drink in his hand. His usual carefree smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was something hollow in his eyes—something lost.

Shoko stood rigidly, her hands clenched by her sides. Geto, now fully dressed, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Gojo intently. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t know how.

Gojo finally broke the silence.

“I know how this sounds,” he murmured, voice quieter than they’d ever heard it. “I know you probably think I’ve lost my mind. And I don’t blame you.”

Shoko let out a sharp exhale, still trying to wrap her head around everything. “This—this is insane, Gojo. How the hell are we supposed to process this?”

Gojo chuckled bitterly, rubbing a hand over his face. “You think I haven’t been losing my mind over it? You think I woke up one day and just accepted this as my reality?” He shook his head, voice thick with something dangerously close to desperation. “I went through hell. I became hell. And then I woke up here. Back at the start. Before I ruined everything.”

He looked up at them, eyes pleading. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this. I know that. But I—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw, his hands gripping the glass so tightly it was a miracle it didn’t shatter.

“I risked losing you both by telling you.” His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper. “I know that. But I can’t do this again. I can’t lie to you two. Not this time.”

Shoko inhaled sharply, her chest tightening.

“I had everything,” Gojo continued, his fingers digging into his knees. “I had her. I had you two. And I destroyed it. I thought I was invincible, that nothing could break me. But I broke her instead. I broke everyone around me.” He exhaled shakily, gripping his temples. “And when I finally realized what I had done, when I tried to fix it, it was already too late. She was already gone.”

Shoko flinched at the raw anguish in his voice.

“She left?” she asked hesitantly.

Gojo let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “No. I drove her away. Slowly. Piece by piece.”

He glanced at Shoko then, something unreadable in his expression. “And you… you hated her.”

Shoko frowned. “What?”

Gojo swallowed hard. “I made sure of it.”

Her stomach twisted. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Gojo exhaled. “You and Y/N… you were close. Best friends, like sisters even.” He swallowed. “She relied on you. Trusted you. And you cared about her too.” His voice lowered. “But I couldn’t have that.”

Shoko took a slow step back.

“I told you she was trying to get with Geto,” Gojo admitted, voice hoarse. “I planted the idea in your head, twisted things just enough to make it seem real. You believed me.” He let out a bitter chuckle. “You started seeing her differently. You distanced yourself. And when she needed you most… you weren’t there.”

Shoko felt like she had been punched in the gut. Though she didn’t know why y/n was, she felt a sense of responsibility towards her now.

“No.” She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t—” But even as she said it, doubt crept in. She could see herself believing in Gojo. She had trusted him for years.

“I made you hate her,” Gojo whispered, guilt evident in his voice. “And it worked.”

Shoko felt something bitter rise in her throat.

Geto let out a sharp breath, his hands clenched into fists. “How far did you go, Satoru?”

Gojo let out a slow, shaky breath.

“I turned people against her.” He closed his eyes. “I isolated her. Made sure the only person she could rely on was me.” He looked up at them, his expression unreadable. “And I did the same to you, Shoko. I made you question yourself. I twisted the truth, made you think you were overreacting. All so you wouldn’t push her to leave me.”

Shoko felt sick.

Geto exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “And now?” His voice was cold. “Now that you’ve reset everything, what do you want from us, Gojo?”

Gojo swallowed. “I want a second chance.”

He met their gazes, his voice raw, desperate. “I don’t deserve it. I know that. But I want to do things right this time. No more lies. No more manipulation. I want to be better. And I need you both with me.”

Shoko’s fists clenched. “You don’t get to just ask us to…to believe all of this. This is too much to process!”

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m not asking for it. I just… I don’t want to lose you both again.”

The silence stretched on.

Geto exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “We’re not going anywhere, Gojo. Even though what you are saying is true..in my opinion you haven’t done anything. I believe you.”

Gojo let out a weak, relieved chuckle. “Thank you” he murmured. 

Shoko sat on the couch next to Gojo and grabbed his drink, taking a long sip, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I ..don’t want to..but I believe you too. I have people to check up on but I am here for you. I know you are not a bad person. You are fucked up in your own way but not a bad person. I agree with Geto that you haven't done anything to us so I will support you”. She rubbed Gojo’s shoulder gently. 

Gojo placed his palm over hers’ and gave an understanding nod. “Thank You”.

“But why are we here? In Kyoto?”. Geto raised a brow, half knowing the answer.

“Because she is here”.

Geo hummed and sat down opposite to him, “So you acquired Golden Ratio for…her?”.

“Yes”.

“How much did you spend on this acquisition?”. 

“30..30 million”. 

Geto nodded and smirked, “30- for a loss making company?”.

“Yes. I didn’t care about the profits”.

Geto smirked, “Of course you didn’t”.

You woke up 15 minutes before your alarm and sighed, staring at the ceiling. The weight in your chest was familiar now, pressing down as if it had been waiting for you to wake up. You had no motivation to go to work. Not because you hated your job—no, the work itself was fine—but because you would see him.

Gojo had simmered down over the past few days. No teasing remarks, no playful interruptions, no effortless intrusion into your space. He only spoke to you during meetings—strictly business, nothing more. And it bothered you. More than it should have.

You turned on your side, hugging your blanket closer. What did you even want? When he was around, he overwhelmed you. When he kept his distance, you found yourself searching for him but just to avoid him…right? His presence annoyed you. His indifference annoyed you. He annoyed you.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, cutting through your spiraling thoughts. You reached for it with a groan, squinting at the bright screen. But the moment you saw the name, the weight on your chest lifted, even if just a little.

Nanami: Coffee before work?

A small smile made its way to your lips.

y/n: Yes :)

Excitement replaced the lingering haze of your morning gloom as you threw off the blankets and got out of bed. You needed this. A moment of normalcy, of quiet understanding, something stable. Nanami.

You took your time getting ready, slipping into a soft, knitted blue dress that hugged your frame just right. Something about it felt comforting, like a shield against the uncertainty lingering in your mind. You brushed your hair quickly, not caring too much about perfection, and grabbed your things.

Before heading out, you scribbled a note for your mom, letting her know you were leaving early. Then, with a deep breath, you stepped outside, the morning air crisp against your skin.

Maybe today would be easier. Maybe coffee with Nanami would settle your thoughts. Maybe you wouldn’t think about him so much.

Maybe.

When you reached the coffee shop, Nanami was already waiting, standing tall and composed with two to-go cups in his hands. The early morning sun cast a golden glow on his sharp features, making him look even more refined than usual.

"Hi! Good morning!" you greeted, slightly breathless, brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

"Good morning, Y/N," he replied, his voice as steady as ever. His gaze flickered downward, scanning you with subtle concern. "Where’s your bike?"

"Flat tire," you sighed. "So I basically ran here."

He chuckled—just a small, barely-there sound, but you caught it. Nanami wasn’t the type to be easily amused, yet somehow, you always managed to crack through his stoic exterior. There was something about you—your carefree energy, your effortless charm—that he found… different. He never indulged in unnecessary interactions at work, but with you, he wanted more. He didn’t want to be just your colleague.

"Here you go," he said, handing you one of the cups.

"Oh, you didn’t have to," you said, feeling a twinge of guilt for being late.

"Don’t worry about it. It’s a latte with two sugars. I hope I got it right."

Your heart warmed. He remembered. He noticed things about you. You smiled up at him, and for a moment, Nanami just looked at you—calm, patient, unwavering.

"It’s exactly what I wanted," you said softly.

The two of you started walking toward the office, sipping your coffee and chatting, completely oblivious to the sleek black car crawling past on the street.

Inside the car, Gojo saw everything.

He saw how you ran up to Nanami, how you smiled—that smile. The real one. The one you used to have around him. The one he had brushed aside too many times. He watched as Nanami handed you coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

Since when?

How long has this been going on?

Were you close enough that Nanami knew your coffee order by heart? Was this a new thing or a routine? 

Gojo clenched his fists on his lap, his jaw tightening as bitter jealousy curled through his veins. That should be me.

He thought about all the mornings you had made breakfast for him, the way you used to greet him with that same warm smile, only for him to brush past you without a second glance. He had taken you for granted, thinking you would always be there—patient, waiting, endlessly giving.

But you weren’t waiting anymore.

And the way Nanami looked at you, the way you looked at him—it made Gojo’s stomach twist.

His driver pulled up in front of the office, but Gojo didn’t move. He lingered in the car, gripping his knee, watching through the rearview mirror as you and Nanami walked side by side, effortlessly in sync. You laughed at something Nanami said, and the sound hit Gojo like a punch to the gut.

You used to laugh like that with him.

His fingers twitched. His heart pounded. A sharp, searing pain spread through his chest.

It wasn’t easy watching someone you had loved—and treated carelessly—be treated the way they deserved by another man.

And worst of all?

He had no one to blame but himself.

As you walked into your office, the sound of hushed giggles filled the air. Maya, Hitoshi, and Suzume were sprawled on the couch, their faces lit up with mischievous excitement. You raised a brow as you set your bag down.

“I guess this is the new hangout spot?” You plopped down in the empty seat next to them, sensing an ambush before they even said a word.

Maya barely let you settle before exclaiming, “We saw it!” She shot a look at the other two, and they nodded eagerly.

“Saw what?” You asked, lifting your coffee cup to take a sip.

Suzume bit her lip, barely able to contain her excitement. “Same cups! You and Nanami!” she squealed.

You choked on your coffee, coughing violently as you waved a hand in protest. “No… nothing,” you managed between coughs, trying to regain composure. “Nothing is going on. We just met for coffee.”

“Yeah, right!” Hitoshi scoffed, crossing his arms. “No one—and I mean no one—has ever met Nanami outside the office.”

Maya nodded sagely. “We’ve tried. Trust me, we have tried. But he always shuts us down—politely, of course.”

You nodded along, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t like you had forced Nanami to get coffee. But before you could come up with a defense, Hitoshi leaned in, eyes sharp.

“So how did you convince him?”

You hesitated. Should you tell them the truth? That Nanami had asked you? Maybe a little white lie would be better—

Too late.

Maya’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. “Oh my god. He asked you.”

Hitoshi and Suzume exchanged wide-eyed looks. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out.

“Yes, he did,” you finally admitted, exhaling. “But it was just work talk.”

“Work talk happens at work,” Suzume pointed out, leaning forward. “This wasn’t just work talk. I—we swear we won’t tell anyone, but you have to tell us everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you insisted. “Really. We just meet for coffee before work… sometimes.”

“How many times?” Maya asked, eyes narrowing.

“T-Three times. Only.”

“Thrice?” Maya threw her hands in the air dramatically. “We work five days a week, and you’ve had coffee with him three out of those five days?!”

Put that way, it suddenly didn’t sound so innocent. But you weren’t sure what it was, either.

“I get it, okay? But there’s nothing going on,” you repeated, feeling heat rise to your face. “Now, can I please get back to work?”

Your three interrogators groaned but begrudgingly stood up, tossing exaggerated eye rolls and scoffs your way as they exited.

You let out a breath, shaking your head as you turned to your desk.

The thought of something more with Nanami didn’t scare you. You didn’t get butterflies around him, but you felt happy. At peace.

And that, in itself, was something.

The community centre project had quickly become more than just another assignment—it was personal. This wasn’t just about your career or proving yourself; it was about creating something meaningful for the people who needed it most. You poured yourself into every aspect of the marketing plan, obsessing over the details to ensure its success. You wanted people to see the centre the way you did—to understand its potential, to feel excited about what it could offer.

That’s why the idea of the viewing event had come to you. If the elders and children could physically see a miniature model of the centre—each room, the football field, the library, the recreational areas—it would make the vision real to them. It wasn’t just about presenting facts; it was about helping them imagine themselves there, making memories, building a community.

But there was a problem. The scale you envisioned for this event was far beyond what the budget allowed. The logistics, the setup, the presentation—it all required resources you simply didn’t have. And that left you with a dilemma.

You hesitated to bring it up to Nanami. He was always rational, level-headed—he would assess it logically, not emotionally. If he rejected the idea outright, if he told you it wasn’t feasible, you weren’t sure how you’d handle it. Would it feel like a failure? Or worse—would it make you question everything you had worked for? 

The air in the conference room was thick with tension, but you forced yourself to focus. You had poured everything into this proposal, perfecting every detail, knowing exactly how much it could mean for the community. You had spent sleepless nights envisioning the event, picturing the joy on the elders' faces as they saw the reading rooms, the excitement in the children’s eyes as they imagined playing on the football field.

Nanami sat across from you, composed as ever, his expression unreadable. Gojo, on the other hand, was watching you with unsettling intensity. No blindfold. No cocky grin. Just those sharp blue eyes, studying you as if he could see right through you.

You hated that he was here. Hated that he was in charge now.

Taking a deep breath, you began your pitch. “This event isn’t just about unveiling the project. It’s about making people feel like they already belong in that space. If they can imagine themselves walking through the halls, sitting in the library, watching their kids play—it won’t just be a building to them. It’ll be theirs.”

You stole a glance at Nanami, hoping to see some sign of approval, but his expression remained unchanged. “While I understand your passion for this,” he said, tone firm but measured, “we have to be realistic. The budget is already stretched, and this event—while well-intentioned—isn’t necessary.”

Not necessary.

The words landed like a slap. You had been prepared for pushback, but hearing Nanami dismiss it so easily hurt. You admired him, respected him. But right now, it felt like he was telling you that all your effort, all your ideas, didn’t matter.

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, Gojo leaned forward.

“Nanami,” he said, his voice smooth but authoritative, “you’re not seeing the bigger picture.” His gaze flickered to you, and your stomach twisted. “This isn’t just about the logistics. It’s about momentum. You don’t get real engagement from people by throwing a few flyers at them. You get it by making them feel something.”

Your breath caught slightly. That was exactly what you had been trying to say.

Gojo turned his full attention to you now, and for the first time, he wasn’t teasing, wasn’t smug. He was serious.

“The way you described it,” he continued, voice softer, almost thoughtful, “I could see it. The way the kids would run to the football field. The way the elders would sit in the reading corner, finally having a space that feels like home. It’s not just a concept to you. It’s real. You’re not just selling an idea—you’re inviting them in.”

Your heart fluttered.

It was ridiculous. It was Gojo. You didn’t want his validation. You didn’t want to feel this strange, warm twist in your chest just because he—of all people—understood you.

And yet… this was a side of him you hadn’t seen before. A side that actually listened.

You clenched your hands beneath the table, grounding yourself. No. You couldn’t let yourself forget who he was. Gojo was arrogant. Manipulative. The kind of man who played with people like pieces on a chessboard.

So why did he sound so genuine right now?

You shook the thought away as Nanami exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated. “And how do you suggest we handle the cost, Gojo?”

Gojo smirked slightly, but his gaze remained steady. “I’ll fund it.”

You stiffened. “What?”

Gojo turned back to you, expression softening in a way that made you hate the way your breath hitched. “I believe in your idea.” His voice was lower now, quieter, like it was meant just for you. “And if funding is the only problem, consider it handled.”

Your chest tightened. This was the last thing you wanted—to owe him anything. You had spent months avoiding Gojo, keeping your distance, but now he was the only one fighting for your idea.

“I—” You hesitated, battling the war inside you. You should say no. You should push back, tell him you didn’t need his help.

But the thought of your proposal being discarded, of all your work being wasted, was unbearable.

“Don’t stress about the clearances either,” Gojo added, his voice smooth and assured. “I’ll take care of those.”

Nanami let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. But keep it within reason.”

Relief flooded you, but it was quickly overshadowed by something else—an uncomfortable awareness of the man sitting across from you.

Gojo was still watching you, his expression unreadable, his lips curving just slightly, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You stood abruptly, gathering your papers, needing to put space between you and whatever this was.

“I’ll get started.”

You turned to leave, but before you reached the door, Gojo’s voice followed you.

“You’re welcome.”

You didn’t look back.

Because if you did, you might have to acknowledge the way your pulse had quickened—and the terrifying realization that, for the first time, you weren’t sure if you hated him for this.

You had barely made it back to your desk, heart still pounding from that infuriating meeting, when your phone buzzed.

Nanami Kento – Office. Now.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t need this right now. You needed a minute to breathe, to process, to forget the way Gojo’s words had stirred something unfamiliar in your chest.

Still, you pushed yourself up and made your way to Nanami’s office, your pulse steady but your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

When you entered, Nanami was standing behind his desk, arms crossed, his gaze unreadable. The door clicked shut behind you.

"Sit."

You hesitated but complied, folding your arms across your chest. “What now?”

Nanami exhaled slowly, like he was trying to contain his frustration. “I need to know if you’re absolutely certain about this event.”

Your patience snapped. “I wouldn’t have pitched it if I wasn’t, Nanami.”

His brow furrowed, but his voice remained measured. “I’m not just talking about your passion for it. I mean, have you really evaluated the risks? The logistics? The long-term impact? This isn’t just about getting people excited—it’s about whether this event is actually worth the cost.”

You leaned forward, your voice sharp. “I’ve done the background work. I’ve looked at every angle, every possibility, every outcome. I know what I’m doing, Nanami.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m not saying you haven’t put in the effort. But throwing money at an idea without proper validation—”

“Proper validation?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You think I’d bring half-baked ideas to the table? You think I didn’t think this through?”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” Your voice wavered slightly, frustration morphing into something more vulnerable. “Because it sure as hell feels like you don’t trust my judgment.”

Silence.

Nanami exhaled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He looked at you then—really looked at you. The way your eyes shone with unshaken determination, the way your shoulders were squared, unrelenting. You were so certain about this, so damn sure of yourself, and he should’ve been proud.

But all he could think about was him.

Gojo had taken one look at your proposal and, without hesitation, decided to make it happen. No back and forth, no weighing options—just effortless power, effortless money. Gojo could give you what he couldn’t, and that truth sat like lead in his chest.

But he couldn’t say that.

He wouldn’t say that.

Instead, he settled for the one thing he could justify. “I just think you should step back and look at this from all angles. We should evaluate it properly before jumping in.”

Your hands clenched. “I did evaluate it, Nanami. I wouldn’t have come to you if I hadn’t.”

He held his ground. “There’s more to this than just feasibility. There’s strategy, long-term vision. If we put this money into the wrong thing—”

“It’s not the wrong thing!”

Your voice cracked, and for the first time, real hurt bled into your expression.

“I worked on this for weeks, Nanami,” you said, quieter now. “I thought you, of all people, would understand why this mattered. I thought you'd believe in me.”

His throat tightened.

He did believe in you. That was never the problem.

But it was too late to say that now.

You scoffed softly, shaking your head. “Guess I should’ve expected this.”

The words stung more than they should have.

You turned abruptly, striding toward the door, and before he could find the words to stop you, you were gone—storming out of his office and leaving him in the silence of everything unsaid.

You couldn’t believe that Nanami didn’t believe in you. He always believed in you.

You sat on the worn wooden bench in the small garden near the parking lot, gripping the paper cup of green tea with both hands as if its warmth could steady the storm raging inside you. Your argument with Nanami replayed in your mind, each word gnawing at you.

Were you being too selfish? Was Nanami right? Did you just sell your idea to Gojo because it was the easier thing to do?

You took a slow sip, trying to swallow down your doubts, but they clung to you, refusing to dissipate.

“Are you okay?”

The deep yet familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned around, ready to answer, but the words lodged in your throat the moment your gaze met his.

Gojo stood there, a bento box in hand, his sharp blue eyes locked onto you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. The sunlight caught in his white hair, softening his features, but you knew better than to let it fool you.

Damn him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice steady despite the way your pulse quickened.

“I eat my lunch here,” he said simply, as if that explained anything.

“Why here?”

Gojo shrugged, settling onto the opposite end of the bench. “I like the sun.” He opened his bento box, pulling out a pair of chopsticks before glancing sideways at you. “What about you?”

You exhaled, watching him cautiously. This was the first time you were alone with him in years. And somehow, the space between you felt suffocating—thick with everything left unsaid.

The memories came uninvited. The way his fingers once traced lazy circles on your bare skin. The way his lips felt when he whispered your name like a prayer. The way he used to make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered.

And yet, you weren’t.

Now, all you could do was sit there and watch him eat, his expression unreadable, while your own heart threatened to tear itself apart. Why did you hurt me? Why couldn’t you just love me? Why was I not enough?

Gojo felt the weight of your silence. He could feel the heat of your presence, the way your every breath unsettled him. It took everything in him not to close the distance between you, not to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. But his control was hanging by a thread.

The way you sat there—legs crossed, throat bobbing as you sipped your tea, the curve of your mouth just barely upturned in a frown—sent something dangerous curling in his stomach. He hated this distance between you.

Hated how he wasn’t allowed to touch you anymore.

I will make it up to you. I will show you that all I need is you. I will love you the way you want to be loved.

A single tear escaped the corner of your eye, but you caught it quickly, turning away before he could see.

“I just needed some air,” you murmured.

Gojo swallowed a bite of his food. “Are you upset about what Nanami said?”

“Yes,” you admitted, though that wasn’t the full truth.

Gojo hummed, setting his chopsticks down. “Why? People will question your ideas. You need to defend your ground and find someone who believes in you. It’s not that complicated.”

You stared at your tea, the warmth now forgotten. Find someone who believes in you? You had—once. And then he broke you.

You should’ve left. You should have walked away. But somehow, your body refused to move, as if something invisible tied you to him.

Gojo shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours.

You sucked in a sharp breath, cursing the way the slightest touch of him still sent a shiver up your spine. Your body still remembered him, no matter how much your heart told you to forget.

He didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke. “Why aren’t you eating?”

You forced yourself to focus, blinking away the heat curling low in your stomach. “I’m not hungry.”

Gojo chuckled, extending his bento box toward you. “Have some strawberries. They’re in season.”

You stared at the neatly arranged fruit, then at his hand—those long fingers, the same ones that had once traced promises along your spine, the same ones that had held you.

Your throat felt dry. “No, thank you, Mr. Gojo,” you said coolly.

His eyes darkened slightly, but he simply pulled back, taking a slow bite of one himself. The way his lips wrapped around the fruit made your stomach clench. He chewed thoughtfully before speaking again, voice low and deliberate.

“Suit yourself.” He licked the juice off his thumb before tilting his head to look at you. “Just know that strawberries don’t deserve your hate. Someone else does, but not them.”

Your breath hitched.

The way he was looking at you—it wasn’t playful, it wasn’t teasing. It was dangerous.

And damn you, because for a moment, you wanted to cross that distance.

You stood abruptly, forcing your expression into something impassive. “I’ll take my leave, Mr. Gojo. Enjoy your lunch.”

Gojo leaned back against the bench, watching you go. His lips curled, but it wasn’t quite a smirk—it was something softer, something almost hungry.

“Ms.L/n”. Gojo called out, stopping you in your tracks. Ms.L/n felt unfamiliar on his tongue. You were Mrs.Gojo. But that can be taken care of later.

“Yes?”. You turned slowly.

“Eat something. You look like you have iron deficiency”.

You were too stunned to speak. Did he know? He couldn’t have known.

“Bye-bye,” he said, voice rich and deep.

“Bye”. You whispered and left.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure if you hated him for staying or for letting you walk away.

Suzume, Maya, Juno, and Hitoshi stared blankly as Nanami joined them for lunch, surprised by his rare appearance.

“Afternoon, everyone.”

A moment of hesitation passed before they all bowed politely, acknowledging him.

“It is so cool of you to join us, Nanami-san!” Hitoshi exclaimed with enthusiasm.

Nanami let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. He rarely ate with the team—not because he didn’t want to, but because he had always drawn a firm line between himself and his subordinates. He had his principles. He believed that distance was necessary. But today…

Today was different.

He was here for one reason. You.

Ever since your argument in his office, his mind had been an absolute mess. He had hurt you—not once, but twice. And for what? His own stubbornness? His own inability to deal with the fact that Gojo Satoru could swoop in and hand you the world on a silver platter while he could only offer cautious reasoning?

He had been unable to focus on anything since.

Coming here had been his weak attempt to make it up to you. He had hoped—perhaps foolishly—that he would find you sitting with the others. That he could sit across from you, maybe ask how you were doing, maybe… apologize, even if he didn’t know how.

But to his disappointment, you weren’t there.

Suppressing the frustration bubbling inside him, he cleared his throat. “How has work been?”

The responses came quick, casual.

“Good.” “Alright.” “No complaints.”

Nanami nodded, though his mind was still elsewhere. He glanced around the cafeteria once more, but there was no sign of you.

Trying to distract himself, he asked, “How are you all adjusting to the… new firm?” He kept his tone even, but a slight bitterness seeped into his voice despite himself.

Domain Dynamics. Gojo’s firm. The company that had absorbed Golden Ratio, that had claimed everything he had worked so hard to build. That had claimed you.

“Not too bad,” Hitoshi replied with a casual shrug.

“Some of them are actually quite cool,” Maya added.

Nanami arched a brow. “Oh really? Like who?”

“Miwa is really nice,” Maya said thoughtfully.

Hitoshi snorted. “She’s just saying that because they both have blue hair.”

That earned a round of laughter, even from Nanami.

“That has nothing to do with it!” Maya defended herself. “She’s really cool and sweet.”

Nanami turned his attention to Suzume. “What about you?”

Suzume blushed slightly at being singled out. “I’ve mostly interacted with Mr. Gojo… and I think he’s very cool.”

Nanami’s grip on his chopsticks tightened.

He forced his expression to remain neutral. “Why… is he so cool?” He kept his tone light, almost teasing, though deep inside, he already knew the answer would irritate him.

Suzume tilted her head thoughtfully. “He’s quick to make decisions, and he’s very kind. Once, he brought smoothies and pastries for the entire admin department to thank us for our help during the merger.”

Of course he did.

Nanami clenched his jaw as an unsettling weight settled in his chest. Gojo wasn’t just good at winning people over—he was effortless at it.

Nanami had spent years proving himself with diligence, logic, and hard work. Gojo, on the other hand, barely had to lift a finger to make people adore him.

“I see,” Nanami said, his voice a little too stiff, his smile too forced.

He had lost his appetite.

“I will take my leave now.” He picked up his tray of half-eaten food and stood up.

He was about to place his tray on the conveyor when Hitoshi suddenly jogged up to him.

“What’s wrong, Hitoshi?” Nanami asked.

Hitoshi stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Y/N is in the garden.”

Nanami stiffened.

He furrowed his brows. “I didn’t ask.”

“I know.” Hitoshi’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Just thought you should know.”

Nanami didn’t respond. He simply placed his tray down and walked away.

But he was already heading toward the garden.

As Nanami stepped into the open courtyard, the fresh air did little to clear the storm brewing inside him. His eyes immediately scanned the area, searching for you.

And then—he found you.

His footsteps faltered.

You were sitting on a wooden bench, a cup of tea in your hands, your posture tense yet unmoving.

And beside you—far too close for Nanami’s liking—sat Gojo.

Nanami stopped in his tracks, staying in the shadows, just out of sight.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he took in the scene before him.

Gojo was leaning slightly toward you, his bento box in hand, his expression unreadable. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair slightly tousled. Those piercing blue eyes, focused entirely on you.

Nanami’s jaw clenched as Gojo extended his bento box toward you.

Don’t take it.

He felt a bitterness rise in his chest. Don’t take it. Don’t let him win.

For a moment, you hesitated. Nanami could see the way your fingers fidgeted, the way your lips pressed together in thought.

Gojo, ever patient, held the box a second longer, watching you with an amused expression, as if he already knew you were going to give in.

Nanami held his breath.

Then—finally—you shook your head. “No thank you, Mr. Gojo.”

Nanami exhaled. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath. A small, almost ridiculous sense of relief washed over him.

But then Gojo simply chuckled, pulling the box back. “Suit yourself.” He rested his cheek against his palm, smiling lazily. “Just know that strawberries don’t deserve your hate. Someone else does, but not them.”

You let out a small laugh, and Nanami’s stomach twisted all over again.

Gojo was teasing you.

And worse—you were responding to it.

Nanami’s grip on his tie tightened.

You were supposed to hate Gojo. You were supposed to stay away from him.

But here you were—sitting with him, talking to him, laughing with him.

For the first time, Nanami realized the extent of Gojo’s pull.

It wasn’t just about money. Or power. Or reputation.

Gojo had a way of getting into people’s heads.

And now… he was getting into yours.

Nanami clenched his fists.

This wasn’t just frustration.

This was jealousy.

And the worst part?

Gojo didn’t even have to try.

Nanami had never felt this way. Ever.

But seeing you on that bench with Gojo, watching him lean in just a little too close, his voice dropping into something only you could hear—it made something raw and primal twist inside him.

It made him want to march over there, grab Gojo by the collar, and remind him—with his fists—that there were some things money couldn’t buy.

He rubbed his face with his palm and took a deep breath, willing the jealousy away. Gojo can buy everything under the sun, but he can’t buy you.

At least, that’s what Nanami hoped. Prayed.

Your affection, your time, even your anger—they should be reserved for people who care. Not for people like Gojo Satoru, who could give you the world just because it amused him to do so.

Nanami sat at his desk, exhaling sharply as he picked up his phone.

His fingers hovered over the screen, typing out a long, carefully constructed apology—then he deleted it.

He typed something shorter. Then erased that too.

He didn’t know how to talk to you.

And it was driving him insane.

Just the mere thought that he had hurt you was unbearable.

A soft knock on his door snapped him out of his frenzied state, and he groaned inwardly. Great. Another issue to handle—one that would be far less important than what was truly consuming his mind.

“Come in,” he said, voice flat.

The moment you stepped through the door, his breath hitched.

He stood up immediately. “Y/N.”

You shifted on your feet, not quite meeting his eyes. “Nanami-san, I… wanted to apologize for how I stormed out earlier.” Your voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant. You pressed your lips together, the tension evident in your posture. “It was childish and unprofessional of me.”

Nanami let out a slow breath, his shoulders easing. You’re apologizing?

He didn’t deserve it.

He walked around his desk, closing the distance between you. His hand twitched at his side, hesitating—don’t touch her—but then…

The image of you smiling at Gojo’s jokes flashed in his mind.

And suddenly, caution no longer mattered.

Nanami reached out, taking both of your hands in his, his grip firm, warm—possessive.

Your pulse quickened.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. His thumbs brushed over the back of your hands, slow and deliberate. “I should not have dismissed your idea so blatantly. It was… unkind of me. I’m sorry, Y/N. Please forgive me.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed.

“It’s fine,” you managed, though your voice was unsteady. His hands felt too good around yours, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. “I understand where you were coming from. I shouldn’t have rushed it.”

Nanami exhaled, a small, genuine smile gracing his lips.

“Thank you for understanding.”

Of course you would. You were smart. Sensible. Rational.

You weren’t his, but standing this close to you, feeling the way your hands fit so perfectly in his… for a moment, it almost felt like you were.

And then he realized—he didn’t want to let go.

The tension stretched, thick, crackling in the air between you.

Nanami’s gaze flickered to your lips. Slightly parted. Soft. Inviting.

He wasn’t supposed to want this.

Not here.

Not now.

Not with Gojo still lingering in the background, stealing the moments that should have been his.

His jaw clenched.

His grip on you tightened, his fingers curling around your wrist, like he could anchor you to him.

He wanted to make you forget.

And then—

Your breath hitched as Nanami dipped his head lower, his lips ghosting over yours. Hesitant. Testing the line between restraint and surrender.

“Nanami—”

You barely had a chance to whisper his name before he erased the space between you.

The kiss was slow, deliberate—yet devastatingly deep.

A quiet gasp left your lips as he pressed closer, the warmth of his body radiating through his shirt. His hands slid up, one cupping the side of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, keeping you right there.

You should have pulled away.

But you didn’t.

You leaned in, hands fisting his shirt, body arching toward him as if the space between you was too much to bear.

Nanami groaned softly against your mouth, the sound low and needy.

And then—

A knock at the door.

Both of you froze.

Your breath was ragged, lips still so close that you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

But reality crashed in hard.

Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, your hand covering your lips, as if you could erase what had just happened.

Nanami’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his jaw tightening, his hands clenched into fists to stop himself from pulling you right back in.

The knock came again.

You took another step back.

“I—I have to go,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

Nanami didn’t stop you.

Didn’t want to stop you.

Because if you stayed a second longer, he wasn’t sure he’d have the willpower to let you go again.

You had managed to avoid both Nanami and Gojo for the rest of the day. It hadn’t been easy.

Nanami had tried to catch your gaze during the last meeting, his brows slightly furrowed, his usual stoic expression tinged with something else—something softer. You had kept your head down, pretending to take notes, refusing to let yourself look at him.

Gojo had been harder to escape.

You could feel his eyes on you, following you like a shadow. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to stop you. But every time you turned a corner, every time you walked into a room, there was a flicker of white hair in the distance, a presence that made your breath hitch in your throat.

By the time you made it home, exhaustion had seeped into your bones. You had barely taken off your shoes before collapsing onto your bed, your body sinking into the mattress as if it had been waiting for this moment all day.

And yet—

Sleep refused to come.

You tossed and turned, shifting between the cool and warm sides of the pillow, but nothing helped. Your mind was still back in that office, in the lingering heat of Nanami’s lips against yours, in the deep blue of Gojo’s stare as he watched you leave.

You kissed Nanami.

And you liked it.

But why did it feel like something was missing?

You groaned and rolled onto your side, staring at the dim glow of your bedside lamp.

Tomorrow was the weekend. At least you wouldn’t have to see either of them.

At least you would have time to think.

Because the truth was terrifying—

You weren’t sure if you liked Nanami because of who he was or because he wasn’t Gojo.

And you weren’t sure if you hated Gojo because of everything he had done—

Or because of something you weren’t ready to confront yet.

The night air was crisp against your skin as you stepped out of your apartment, the city buzzing softly around you. You hadn’t planned this. You hadn’t planned anything. But sitting in bed, drowning in your own thoughts, had felt unbearable.

So you decided to drown them in something else instead.

The local pub wasn’t particularly fancy, nor was it the type of place you usually went to. But it was quiet enough, dimly lit, and filled with people who didn’t know you. That was all you needed.

You slid onto a barstool, ordering something strong and burning, the kind of drink that numbed your lips before it reached your stomach.

One glass turned into two.

Two into three.

By the fourth, your mind had finally quieted.

“Drinking alone?” A smooth voice pulled you from your haze.

You turned, blinking at the woman who had taken the seat next to you. Dark brown hair, cigarette between her fingers, and a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

“Yeah,” you admitted, tilting your empty glass towards her. “Looks like you are too.”

She shrugged, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. “Bad day.”

“Same,” you sighed. “Terrible, actually.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Wanna talk about it?”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “I kissed my boss.”

The woman snorted. “That bad, huh?”

“I don’t know why I did it,” you groaned, pressing your forehead against the bar. “Well, I do know. He’s stupidly attractive. And kind. And so different from…” You trailed off, gripping your glass a little tighter.

Shoko hummed, swirling her drink. “Different from who?”

You ignored her question and let out a drunken sigh. “But you have to understand,” you slurred, “Nanami is gorgeous. Like, unfairly handsome.”

Shoko smirked, taking a slow sip. “Oh?”

You nodded eagerly, propping your elbows on the counter, leaning in as if confessing a deep secret. “He’s tall—like, big enough to just—ugh.” You groaned, dramatically resting your head on your arms. “And his voice? So deep. And don’t even get me started on his hands, I mean, they’re so—”

Shoko lifted a brow. “So?”

You let out a dreamy sigh, waving your hand dismissively. “Strong. Capable. The kind of hands that could ruin you in the best way possible.”

Shoko stifled a laugh. “Sounds like you had a good time.”

You groaned, sitting up. “I wish. But no. It was just a kiss. A very, very heated kiss.” You pressed your fingers against your lips, as if still feeling the remnants of Nanami’s touch.

Shoko exhaled smoke, amused. “Under what circumstances did this very, very heated kiss happen?”

You groaned again, hiding your face behind your hands. “Ughhh, it was so bad. I stormed into his office to apologize for snapping at him earlier, and then he was all ‘I should be the one apologizing’ and holding my hands, looking at me—” You huffed dramatically, throwing your hands up. “Next thing I knew, I was pinned against his desk, and we were kissing.”

Shoko let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“I know,” you wailed, knocking back another sip of your drink. “And now, I don’t even know if I like him for real or if I just—just—” You waved your hands vaguely, frustrated. “If I just want to forget someone else.”

Shoko gave you a long, knowing look before taking a drag from her cigarette.

“Well,” she mused, exhaling smoke, “if it makes you feel any better, I’m drinking because my best friend just told me that he came back from the future just to make a girl fall in love with him.”

You blinked.

And then you lost it.

A loud, tipsy giggle bubbled from your lips, turning into uncontrollable laughter.

“Wha—what?” You wheezed between giggles, clutching your stomach. “That’s insane. That’s so much worse than my problem.”

Shoko smirked, clearly amused by your drunken state. “Tell me about it.”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Who even does that?”

“Apparently, he does.” She sighed, taking another sip. “Idiot.”

You extended your hand suddenly, still grinning. “I like you. What’s your name?”

She eyed you for a moment before shaking your hand.

“Shoko.”

“Nice to meet you, Shoko,” you slurred. “I’m Y/N.”

Shoko’s fingers twitched around yours.

Her smirk faltered.

Her eyes darkened with realization.

Because this was the Y/N Gojo had been talking about.

A wave of Panic settled over her. There was no going back now. “How about some more shots?”. She cheerfully raised her glass and to her relief you agreed.

After the 4th shot, Shoko was convinced that you were hammered out of your mind, but sadly she was too. She couldn’t leave you here all alone because firstly you were a drunk woman in the middle of the night and secondly Gojo would kill her. So she excused herself and stepped out of the bar,

Wrapping her coat around herself with one hand she dialled Gojo with the other, “Pick up pick up!”.

“Hello”. Gojo’s voice seemed tired on the other end.

“I need help”.

“What happened?!”. He asked worried.

“I need y/n’s address”.

“Shoko…why do you need her address?”.

Shoko took a deep breath wondering how to explain this, “I ran into her at this bar and-”

“And what?!”. 

Shoko could hear drawers opening knowing that Gojo would be on his way here now. “I told her about your time travel thing and then I panicked and got her drunk and now she is too drunk and I don’t want to leave her alone so please send me her address so I can drop her. I feel terrible!”. She spoke in a single breath.

“Stay right there! Keep an eye on her! I am coming! Send me your location now!”. Gojo replied, his voice laced with anger and worry.

Shoko pulled the phone away from her ear for a second, cursing under her breath. She snuck a glance back at you.

You were slumped against the bar, head resting on your folded arms, giggling to yourself over some incoherent thought. The bartender had already stopped serving you, looking increasingly concerned.

Shoko exhaled sharply. “I’m at the Lantern Lounge. Sending you the pin nooooowwwww.”

Shoko let out a breath of relief when she saw the blur of white hair pushing through the crowd. Gojo was impossible to miss—towering, commanding, and radiating pure, pissed-off energy.

“Over here!” She waved him down, stepping aside as he approached.

Gojo barely spared her a glance. His eyes locked onto you.

You were still seated at the bar, your cheek resting on your palm, lazily twirling the straw in your untouched water.

Gojo clenched his jaw. “How bad is it?”

Shoko sighed. “Bad. But not catastrophic. She laughed at me when I said it.”

Gojo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “So she doesn’t believe it.”

Shoko hesitated. “Not yet.”

That was enough to make his stomach drop.

He turned to her. “Why the hell did you let her drink this much?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “She was already half-drunk when I found her. I just made sure she didn’t die.”

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, muttering a curse. Then, without another word, he strode toward you.

Shoko watched as he approached, something tight twisting in her chest. She had known Gojo for years, but this… this was different.

The way his face softened when he reached out—

The way his hand hovered over your shoulder, unsure whether to wake you gently or just pick you up—

The way his lips parted, as if he wanted to say your name but couldn’t—

Shoko had seen Gojo Satoru in many forms. Arrogant. Unstoppable. Infuriating.

But this?

This was a man in love.

And if you remembered even a fraction of what she had said tonight…

Everything was about to change.

“We need to drop her home. Geto is in the car. Go.” Gojo’s voice was firm as he adjusted your weight in his arms, holding you with an ease that made it seem like you belonged there.

The warmth of his body seeped through the fabric of your clothes, making you instinctively relax against him. A soft sigh left your lips as you unconsciously nuzzled into his chest, your breath warm against his collarbone. You mumbled something incoherent, words swallowed by the thickness of sleep, before your body went completely lax in his hold.

Shoko, who had been watching quietly, shook her head in amusement before making her way toward the car. Gojo carefully placed you inside the backseat, his movements calculated and delicate, as if handling something fragile. He lingered, ensuring your head was positioned comfortably before sliding in beside you.

The moment he was settled, he shifted closer, cradling your head against his shoulder with a familiarity that neither Shoko nor Geto could ignore.

“23-5 Sakuragaoka,” Gojo instructed, voice low yet steady, as Geto started the car.

Geto glanced at the rearview mirror, his sharp gaze flickering toward you before settling on Gojo with intrigue. “So this is her,” he mused, an entertained smirk playing on his lips.

“Yes.” Gojo’s answer was clipped, his attention fixed solely on you. His fingers brushed against yours absentmindedly, and he frowned at the coolness of your skin. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his cashmere coat and draped it over your shoulders, his hands rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles to bring warmth back into them.

“Do we become her friends?” Geto quipped, his amusement barely contained. “I mean, Shoko already went on a drinking spree with her. I think I deserve a fair chance to get to know her too.”

“All in good time,” Gojo murmured. His thumb still traced the back of your hand, and his eyes never left your face. “Shoko, what was she talking about?”

Shoko exhaled, hesitating for a beat before deciding to tell him, “She was talking about how she kissed someone. A guy named Nanami.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened. His gaze snapped up to meet Geto’s in the mirror. There it was. The confirmation.

“What else?” His voice was even, but Geto could hear the sharp edge beneath it.

Shoko shifted in her seat. “She was praising him. Saying how kind he is. How handsome.”

Gojo scoffed, leaning back against the seat, his arm still curled protectively around you. “Probably the alcohol.” The words were dismissive, but the flicker of something unreadable in his expression betrayed him.

The car rolled to a stop in front of a traditional two-story Kyoto house. A warm porch light cast a soft glow onto the stone path leading up to the entrance.

“This it?” Geto asked.

“Yes.” Gojo exhaled before stepping out of the car, moving swiftly to your side. He gathered you into his arms again, adjusting his hold so the coat remained wrapped snugly around you. Shoko and Geto followed closely behind.

Shoko rang the doorbell, pressing it gently twice. The three of them waited in silence.

A few moments later, the door swung open, revealing a woman with tired yet kind eyes.

“Yes?” She squinted slightly at the unfamiliar faces.

Shoko stepped forward with a polite smile. “Hi, we’re Y/N’s friends. She got a little too drunk, so we brought her home.”

“Oh! Please, come in, come in!” Your mother quickly stepped aside, eyes landing on you with concern. “Oh god, is she okay?”

“Yes, she just fell asleep,” Shoko reassured her.

Gojo’s grip on you tightened slightly as your mother’s gaze softened. A lump formed in his throat. She didn’t know him—not in this lifetime—but he knew her. He remembered her kindness, her warmth. And seeing the worry in her eyes made the guilt settle even heavier in his chest.

“Hello, ma’am,” he forced out, his usual confidence faltering for the first time in a long while.

Your mother gave him a quick nod before motioning inside. “Please, bring her in.”

Gojo stepped into the house, instinctively glancing around despite already knowing every corner, every detail. He carried you through the hallway, his footsteps quiet against the wooden floors.

“Where do I—?” He hesitated, pretending to be unfamiliar with the layout.

“Oh, her room is upstairs to the right,” your mother directed kindly.

He nodded and ascended the stairs, his movements careful. The moment he pushed your door open, a wave of nostalgia hit him like a punch to the gut. Everything was as he remembered. Even the faint vanilla scent in the air was the same.

His mind racing with thoughts he had no business thinking. You had always felt right in his arms, and tonight was no different. The scent of you, warm and intoxicating, wrapped around him. Even in this life, even in a room that he wasn’t supposed to recognize, everything about you called to him. His throat went dry as he took you in, lying helplessly in his arms.

He lowered you onto the bed with deliberate slowness, as if savoring every second he had with you before reality would inevitably tear you away again. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of your cheek as he tucked your hair away, his touch lingering longer than necessary. You looked peaceful, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. 

Gojo swallowed hard, exhaling through his nose as he carefully pulled the blanket over you. He should leave. He knew he should. But instead, he knelt by the bed, his fingers finding yours, brushing over the delicate curves of your knuckles.

“Sleep well, Y/N,” he whispered, but his voice came out more like a plea.

You stirred slightly, your brows furrowing as if fighting off a dream. Then, in the softest voice, you murmured, “Sa..Satoru.”

Gojo stilled. His entire body went rigid at the sound of his name leaving your lips. His grip on your hand tightened involuntarily. His heart pounded, erratic and unforgiving.

“Yes, love, I’m here.” He brought your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over your fingers, lingering against your skin as if he could brand himself into your very essence.

Your lips parted again, barely forming words, but he caught them. “I… kissed…”

Gojo clenched his jaw, a bitter taste flooding his mouth. He knew exactly who you meant. Nanami. The name burned like acid in his veins. “I know, love,” he murmured, his voice lower, rougher. “It’s not your fault, okay?” His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb ghosting over your skin, reveling in the way you instinctively leaned into his touch. His pulse thrummed wildly.

“You are mine,” he whispered, his lips so close to your ear that his breath sent shivers down your spine. “No bad man can take you away from me. I will keep you safe.”

A soft, breathy hum left your lips in response. It was nothing more than a drunken murmur, but to him, it was permission, an unspoken tether between the two of you that had existed far longer than you even knew.

His fingers slid down to your jaw, tilting your face just slightly toward him. His gaze dropped to your lips—soft, slightly parted, and so damn inviting. A dangerous thought crossed his mind, dark and consuming. If he leaned in just a little closer, if he just… He sucked in a sharp breath and pulled away abruptly, cursing under his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly as he forced himself to stand. Not like this. Not when you didn’t know. Not when you weren’t his—not yet. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his entire body coiled tight with restraint. He had spent too many nights imagining what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you, to have you, and now, the temptation was right in front of him, so maddeningly close. He turned on his heel and walked to the door, forcing himself not to look back. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave. But as his hand hovered over the doorknob, he heard it again, soft, barely above a whisper.

“Satoru…”

Gojo squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. “It’s alright my love. We will be fine”.

He had come back to make you his and he wasn’t going to stop until he did.

When he returned downstairs, your mother was waiting for them in the living room, looking relieved.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, eyes filled with gratitude. “For bringing her home safely. I really appreciate it.”

Shoko waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. We just didn’t want her ending up alone somewhere.”

Your mother chuckled before looking at all three of them thoughtfully. “If you’re free tomorrow, you should come over for lunch. It’s the least I can do.”

Gojo stiffened for a moment, a pang of nostalgia hitting him again. It had been years since she’d offered him something so simple—something so warm.

“That sounds great,” Geto answered smoothly before Gojo could refuse. “We’d love to.”

Your mother smiled warmly. “Then it’s settled. Thank you again. Please get home safely.”

Gojo swallowed thickly before nodding. “Goodnight, mo’—” He almost slipped again. “Goodnight, ma’am.”

You woke up the next day with a familiar scent engulfing you—clean, crisp, with a hint of something unmistakably expensive. Cashmere and something else. Something distinctly Gojo. Your head, however, felt like it had been cracked open and stuffed with cement.

“Fuck,” you groaned, bringing a hand up to your temple as the pounding in your skull made itself known. What the hell happened last night?

“Oh, you’re finally awake.”

You cracked an eye open, only to see your mother standing in the doorway, balancing a laundry basket on her hip, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation.

“I was so worried about you! How dare you put me through that?!”

You winced at the sharpness of her tone, rubbing your eyes as you tried to sit up. “What do you mean? What happened? What time is it?”

Your movements felt sluggish, but as your vision adjusted, your gaze landed on a familiar coat draped over your arm. A coat that wasn’t yours.

Oh no. No. No. NO. Panic shot through you like a bolt of lightning.

“You went out and got drunk, but luckily, you have good friends who dropped you home,” your mom continued, completely unaware of your spiraling. “Now get up, it’s 11:40 already!”

Your mind was still reeling, trying to piece together fragments of hazy memories, when her words fully registered.

“My friends?!” Your eyes snapped open completely now, every ounce of drowsiness evaporating. “Which friends? Maya? Suzume? Hitoshi?”

Your mom shot you a look that made you feel like you had just said the dumbest thing imaginable.

“No, Y/N. Satoru dropped you.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Satoru,” you echoed, the name sitting uncomfortably on your tongue. 

“Yes, Satoru. Why do you drink so much that you can’t even remember? You worry me,” she scolded.

You swallowed hard. This was bad. Very bad.

“Wait, wait, wait… was it just… him?”

Your mother sighed heavily, shifting the laundry basket in her arms. “There was another girl… Soko Ieri… and Suguru Geto.”

Your breath hitched.

You went out drinking with Shoko. How did that even happen? You went out drinking with Gojo’s best friend too. NOT GOOD. You might have spilled a crucial secret in front of both of them. You fucked up.

The words came back from the future echoed in your head, overlapping with laughter and the distant clink of glasses. Fuck. Did you confess? Fuck. Your eyes darted back to the coat, fingers gripping the expensive fabric as your stomach twisted. Did you tell Gojo about the kiss?

Your mom, still unaware of the inner turmoil threatening to consume you, huffed. “Why are you just sitting there? Go take a shower. They’re coming for lunch.”

You barely registered what she said at first, still staring blankly at Gojo’s coat. Then, the words sank in. Your head snapped up. “Who’s coming for lunch?”

“Your friends, Y/N! It’s the least I could do when they dropped my drunk daughter home at two in the morning!”

Your soul momentarily left your body. You scrambled to grab your phone, dread pooling in your stomach as you saw a series of unread messages. From Nanami.

Nanami: Hello, Y/N. Are you free to talk? Nanami: Can we meet today? Nanami: Please talk to me, Y/N. I need to talk to you. Nanami: I will be stopping by your house at 1:00 PM today. Nanami: I am sorry, but I need to talk to you.

Your heart pounded. Oh, you had really fucked up. Within twenty-four hours, you had kissed Nanami, possibly told Gojo about the future, and were now set to have lunch with your ex-best friend who didn’t even know you, your ex-fiancé who probably now knew too much, and your ex-fiancé’s best friend—who was way too perceptive for his own good.

You were so screwed. Should you invite Nanami for lunch too?

Fuck it. You shoved Gojo’s coat off, threw your blankets aside, and rushed toward your bedroom door.

“Moooommm!” you called out.

“Yes?”

You hesitated for only a second before deciding that there was no salvaging this disaster. Might as well let it burn in one big explosion. “My boss, Nanami Kento, will also be joining us for lunch. Is that okay?”

Your mother, ever the gracious host, barely hesitated. “Yes! Shower first! Please!”

You exhaled sharply before hurriedly typing out a message to Nanami.

Y/N: Hi. Sorry for replying late. Come over for lunch at 2:00. Mr. Gojo is also coming with some of his friends. Long story, but I’ll explain everything later.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself. Then, without wasting another second, you grabbed your towel and bolted for the bathroom. You needed the longest shower of your life.

Nanami was the first to arrive—twenty minutes early, as expected.

Your mom greeted him with a warm smile, her usual hospitality on full display as she led him to the dining table, where her finest china sat perfectly arranged.

“Y/N has told me so much about you. It’s so good to finally meet you,” she said, her voice full of warmth.

Nanami, whose chest tightened the moment he saw you approach with a glass of water, forced a polite smile in return. “Thank you for having me.”

Before you could say anything, the sound of bubbling from the kitchen caught your mother’s attention, and she quickly excused herself, leaving you alone with him. The silence that followed was suffocating. You set the glass in front of him, lowering yourself into the chair beside him with a deep, shaky breath. “Hi.”

Nanami didn’t return the greeting. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Y/N, what the hell is going on? Why is Gojo coming to your house?”

You flinched at his tone—firm, demanding. It only made the unease in your stomach churn harder.

“I… I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went out to get some drinks. Alone.” You hesitated, trying to piece together the mess in your head. “But then I met a woman there, and we started talking and drinking, and that’s all I remember.” Your fingers toyed with the hem of your baby pink cardigan, twisting and untwisting the fabric. “My mom told me Gojo and his friends dropped me home, so I guess she knew Gojo…”

Nanami’s brows furrowed. “Wait.” His mind was already working through the inconsistencies. “How did this woman know that you knew Gojo?”

That part you hadn’t considered.

You definitely remembered drinking with Shoko. Alone. But how did Gojo and Geto end up involved? Had you told Shoko about the time travel? Had she told Gojo? A sharp pang of anxiety shot through you. You had to find out.

“I don’t know,” you exhaled, rubbing your temples. “I’m hoping to find out today.”

Nanami sighed, shaking his head. “My god, Y/N. This… this is incredibly irresponsible.”

You snapped your gaze up at him, irritation sparking in your chest. “Irresponsible? That’s what you have to say?”

His jaw clenched. “Yes! You went out and got drunk with a stranger. God knows what could have happened—”

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, leaning back in your chair. “I am a grown woman, Nanami. I can take care of myself. Instead of asking me if I am okay, you are lecturing me about how terrible my decision was, like I don’t already know it!”

His expression remained unmoved. “I know, Y/N. But it was a reckless thing to do.”

Oh, that pissed you off. You wanted reassurance, understanding—hell, even the smallest bit of comfort. Not this. Not him acting like you were some child who didn’t know better.

“You know what else was reckless?” you shot back, your eyes narrowing. “Kissing my boss.” That shut him up.

His throat bobbed as he sighed heavily. “About that—”

“Was that a mistake too?” you pressed, tilting your head.

“Well, no, but—”

“But what?” You cut in, your voice rising slightly. “You have no idea how terrible I feel about last night, Nanami. And instead of listening to me, instead of supporting me, or—I don’t know—just offering some fucking kindness, you’re sitting here lecturing me!” You felt your throat tighten. You sniffled, furious at yourself for it, but even more furious at him.

“Please,” your voice wavered, “stop treating me like a kid.”

“y/n-”.

Nanami’s voice died down as the doorbell rang.

Your mother greeted the three of them warmly, just as she had the night before.

“Oh, you’re all here! Come in, come in!” she said, ushering them inside. “I hope you’re all hungry—I made plenty.”

Shoko smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it, Mrs. L/N. Thanks again for having us.”

“Of course, dear! And thank you for taking care of my reckless daughter last night.” She threw you a pointed look before turning back to them. “Now, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get some drinks.”

But Gojo wasn’t listening. His sharp gaze had already landed on Nanami. The sight of him sitting next to you—too close for Gojo’s liking—sent a fresh wave of irritation surging through him. His jaw clenched as he took in every detail. The way your chair was angled toward Nanami. The way his arm rested just a little too comfortably on the table near yours. The way you looked at him, your brows slightly furrowed as if you were still caught in whatever conversation you had been having.

Something dark and possessive curled in Gojo’s chest. She was going on about how she kissed someone called Nanami. Shoko’s voice from last night echoed in his mind, and his grip on the back of the chair tightened. He hated this.

He hated the way Nanami was sitting there so calmly like he had any right to be this close to you. Like he had any right to you. Geto, ever the observant one, immediately noticed the shift in energy. “Satoru.” His tone was low, a warning. Gojo exhaled sharply through his nose before forcing a grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Nanami-san,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Nanami looked up at him, unimpressed as ever. “Likewise.”

Your stomach twisted.

Oh, this is bad.

You could feel the tension crackling between them like static before a storm, and you knew—without a doubt—that this lunch was about to be a disaster.

“Hi, I am Shoko Ieri”. Shoko walked over and extended her hand.

You shook her hand warmly and all the memories of the two of you came flooding in. “Nice to meet you Shoko”. You turned to Geto, “You must be Mr.Geto”.

“Suguru is fine”. Geto smiled warmly and shook your hand. 

Luckily your mom didn’t notice this short exchange otherwise you would have to build another castle of lies. 

Shoko and Geto make their way past you and follow your mom to the dinner table while you and Gojo stand in the hallway. The silence hung thick and neither of you knew how to break it.

Gojo scanned your face for any sign which would indicate you knew his secret and you scanned his face for the same. 

“Thank you for last night, Mr.Gojo”. You smiled politely.

“Not a problem”. Gojo replied. Remembering how you softly said his name, how you leaned in his touch, how comforting and right you felt in his arms. “Please call me Satoru”.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you pondered over his request. Gojo saw the tension on your face, “Well you know. Me dropping you at night merits a first name basis relationship, right?”. He added jokingly, hoping to relieve some tension.

You chuckled, “I guess you are right..Satoru”. You smiled and let him inside. You were going to keep a keen eye on him this entire lunch.  As you walked into the dining room, you weren’t surprised to see your mother already fussing over Gojo.

“Oh, Satoru, dear, you must have been exhausted after carrying my daughter around last night!” she said, setting an extra serving of food onto his plate.

Gojo chuckled, his usual cocky grin slipping into something softer. “It was no trouble at all, ma’am. Y/N’s not that heavy.” He threw you a teasing look, and you rolled your eyes.

Your mom swatted his arm lightly. “Such a gentleman! You looked after her so well. I don’t know what I’d do if something had happened to her.” She sighed dramatically. “I swear, she never thinks about how worried I get.”

Gojo, ever the opportunist, placed a hand over his heart. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll always make sure she’s safe.”

Your mother beamed. “Such a sweet boy. You must come over more often.”

Nanami, who had been silently observing the exchange, felt something unpleasant twist in his gut. He hated this. He hated the way Gojo so easily wormed his way into your mother’s good graces. The way she practically doted on him. The way you weren’t even arguing about it.

Most of all, he hated that he could sense something was off with you. You hadn’t even looked at him since your last conversation, and it was obvious you were still upset. But instead of turning to him, you were sitting there, smiling—smiling—at whatever joke Gojo had just cracked. Before Nanami could dwell on it further, Gojo made his next move. Just as everyone took their seats, Gojo smoothly slid into the chair right between you and Nanami.

“Hope you don’t mind, Nanamin.” Gojo smirked, leaning back lazily in his chair. “Thought I’d sit here.”

Nanami’s eye twitched, but he forced himself to stay composed. “Not at all.” This insufferable bastard.

On the other side of the table, Shoko and Geto shared an amused look before quietly digging into their food. Conversation flowed easily at the table, mostly thanks to your mother and Geto.

“So, what do you all do?” your mom asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m a doctor,” Shoko said casually, sipping her tea.

“Ah! A respectable profession. Good for you, dear.”

Geto smiled. “I run a few sports clubs in Tokyo.”

Your mom looked impressed. “That’s wonderful! And you, Satoru?”

Gojo grinned, lazily swirling his spoon in his soup. “Well, my company recently acquired Golden Ratio.”

Your mother gasped. “Oh! I read about that deal in the news. That’s incredibly impressive, Satoru! To achieve such success at your age, you must be very talented.”

Gojo flashed a proud smile, sending a knowing look in Nanami’s direction. “I try.”

Nanami clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take another bite instead of responding.

You, on the other hand, were drowning in your own thoughts, I need to find out how much Gojo knows. Did Shoko tell him about what I said last night? But then there was Nanami. He’s still acting like my babysitter instead of listening to me. Why is he so frustrating?

And Gojo. Satoru. Your eyes flickered to him. He was chatting effortlessly with your mother, cracking jokes, making her laugh like he belonged here.

And that was the problem. Because he did belong here. Once. Not now. Not anymore.

Nanami clenched his jaw as he caught the way you were looking at Gojo, mistaking anger for affection. It made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. 

Your mother suddenly stood up, dusting off her hands. “I should bring out some more food. You all keep eating—I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, you turned to Shoko, “I hope I didn’t do something embarrassing last night.” You tried to keep your tone light, but the question held weight.

Shoko looked at Nanami for the briefest moment before shaking her head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

You frowned, sensing something off about her answer. But before you could press further, Gojo leaned in slightly, his voice teasing.

Nanami stood up as your mother returned with a steaming pot in her hands. “Let me help with that,” he offered, stepping around the table to take the dish from her.

“Oh, Kento, you’re such a sweetheart,” she gushed, giving him an appreciative smile. “Unlike someone I know.” She shot you a pointed look.

You groaned. “Here we go.”

“Y/n is alright”. He responded with a polite smile.

“I’m just saying, Y/N,” she huffed, as Nanami helped her place the food on the table, “you never tell me where you’re going, and you’re always out at the oddest hours. Do you know how much I worry?”

Nanami, feeling unexpectedly warm from your mother’s praise, smirked as he took his seat. “Well, she does act like a child sometimes,” he teased, glancing at you.

You instantly shot him a glare. “Excuse me?”

Gojo, who had been watching the exchange, leaned back lazily in his chair. “I wouldn’t say that,” he said, voice smooth yet firm. “She’s not a kid. A little impulsive sometimes, sure, but she’s pretty responsible.”

Your mother pursed her lips. “That’s hard to believe.”

Gojo chuckled. “I mean it, ma’am. You don’t have to worry too much. Y/N’s brave, independent, and more capable than she gives herself credit for.”

Your chest tightened at his words. There was no teasing in his voice, no sarcasm—just pure certainty.

Shoko smirked, setting down her drink. “You’re talking about her being responsible? That’s rich coming from you.”

Geto chuckled. “Yeah, remember that time you got lost in Shinjuku because you insisted you didn’t need a map?”

Gojo groaned, covering his face. “That was one time.”

Shoko ignored him. “Or how about the time you ate that entire bag of wasabi chips on a dare and nearly died?”

Geto shook his head. “He does act like a kid. Pretty often, actually.”

Your mother laughed, clearly enjoying the conversation. “Sounds like you give your friends a hard time, Satoru.”

Gojo pouted dramatically. “I think they just like ganging up on me.”

The table filled with laughter, the mood light and easy. But not for Nanami.

He didn’t miss the way your expression softened at Gojo’s words earlier. The way you actually listened when he defended you.

Nanami clenched his jaw, shoving a bite of food into his mouth to keep himself from scowling. He wasn’t trying to lecture you. He wasn’t trying to belittle you. He just wanted what was best for you. But somehow, everything he said just kept backfiring and worst of all? Gojo was making it look easy.

As the lunch wrapped up, Gojo stood, effortlessly stacking the empty plates in his hands. Your mother looked up, mildly surprised but clearly pleased.

“Oh, Satoru, dear, you don’t have to do that,” she said warmly as he carried the dishes into the kitchen.

Gojo shot her a charming grin over his shoulder. “How could I not? You went through all that effort to feed us. Least I can do is help out.” He set the dishes in the sink before turning back to her with a casual air. “Besides, if I help, maybe I’ll secure my spot as your favorite guest.”

Your mother chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, you’re already miles ahead, dear. Such a polite young man. If only my daughter had half your sense of responsibility.”

Gojo’s grin widened, but there was a flicker of something sharp in his icy blue eyes. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Careful now, ma’am. If you like me that much, you should just make me your son-in-law.” The words were spoken lightly, teasingly, but something about the way he said them carried weight.

Your mother laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Satoru, you’re too good for y/n.”

Gojo smirked, tilting his head. “You say that, but I think I’d be a great addition to the family.” His voice was smooth, but his fingers drummed lightly against the counter—restless, impatient. She swatted his arm playfully. “You’re too much. You need to ask my daughter first. She is a hard one to convince”.

“Oh don’t worry about that”. Gojo winked. Helaughed, but as he reached for another plate, his grip was just a little too firm. His mind, despite the easy smile on his face, was far from lighthearted.

As the afternoon sun dipped lower, the lunch finally came to an end. Your mother, ever the gracious host, sent everyone off with warm goodbyes and an invitation to visit again. You walked outside with the four of them, the crisp air cooling the lingering heat from the dining room.

Shoko lit a cigarette the moment she stepped off the porch, inhaling deeply before exhaling with a satisfied sigh. “That was nice. Your mom’s great.”

You chuckled. “She likes you guys. Maybe a little too much.” Your gaze flickered to Gojo, who still looked smug from all the praise he had received.

Shoko smirked. “Can’t blame her.”

As you all reached the sidewalk, you turned to Shoko. “By the way… how did you know where I lived?”

Shoko glanced at Geto, then back at you, exhaling another puff of smoke before answering. “You told me at the bar.”

Your stomach twisted. “I did?”

She nodded. “You mentioned working at Golden Ratio, so I called Gojo to ask if he knew you. Turns out, he did.”

Relief washed over you. You hadn’t said anything about time travel. Thank god.

“So, you really don’t remember much, huh?” Shoko asked, tilting her head slightly.

You hesitated. “Not really.”

She let out a small breath. “That’s good.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Why? Did I do something embarrassing? ”

Shoko grinned. “Nothing too bad. Just some, uh… very honest conversations.”

“Like what?”. You asked. Your heart racing at the possibilities.

“How you found the blond one attractive”. Shoko smirked

You groaned. “Fantastic.”

She chuckled, then nudged your arm. “We should do this again—minus the whole blacking out part.”

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Wednesday? Coffee?”

“It’s a date.” You smiled.

Meanwhile, Geto stretched his arms above his head, looking at the two of you. “I’d say this was a successful lunch. Your mom might start adopting Gojo at this rate.”

Gojo rolled his eyes. “She has great taste, what can I say?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. But before you could fire back, Gojo stepped closer to you, his hands slipping into his pockets. The others continued chatting, but his eyes were only on you.

“Thanks for the lunch, Y/N.” His voice was smooth, but lower this time, like it was meant just for you.

You swallowed. “It wasn’t just me. My mom did most of it.”

Gojo smirked. “Still. I enjoyed myself.”

There was something in the way he said it, something in the way his eyes lingered on yours—too intense, too knowing. You were acutely aware of how close he was, how easily he could lean in if he wanted to.

And god, he wanted to. He wanted to tilt your chin up, wanted to kiss that stubborn little mouth of yours in front of everyone—Nanami included. He wanted to make it crystal clear who you really belonged to.

But he held back. Barely. Instead, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin for a second too long. You sucked in a sharp breath, your heart slamming against your ribs, shivers ran down your spine.

He grinned. “See you around.” Then, just like that, he turned and walked away, Geto and Shoko following behind. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Nanami, who had been watching the whole exchange from a few feet away, clenched his fists at his sides. Because Gojo hadn’t just thanked you for lunch. No, that had been a claim. A warning, And the worst part? You hadn’t stopped him.

You watched Gojo, Geto, and Shoko leave and all the memories came flooding. They hurt. The taunts. The lying. The manipulation. You were not going to fall for his honey traps again. Even if your body betrayed you, your heart was going to be like a fortress. You thought about how he had made your mom swoon over him again. Was he going to turn her against you again? Lie to her about her own daughter? Buy her affection? You knew what he was capable of. Maybe you forgot for a while when you saw him but now you remembered and you hated his guts. You didn’t just want to stay away from him. You wanted him to pay.

As Gojo, Shoko, and Geto disappeared down the street, you let out a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. The air still felt charged from whatever the hell had just happened between you and Gojo. Before you could figure out how to make him pay, Nanami’s voice broke the silence.

“Y/N.”

You turned to him, still a little dazed. “Yeah?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “We need to talk.” There was something about the way he said it—serious, urgent.

You exhaled, nodding. “Fine. There’s a coffee shop down the—”

“No.” Nanami cut you off, shaking his head. “Not in public. We need to be alone.”

Alone. That one word sent a shiver down your spine, but you ignored it.

“Okay,” you said carefully. “We can stop by the office. I need to grab a file anyway.”

Nanami nodded once. “Let’s go.”

The walk to his car was silent, and the moment you slid into the passenger seat, the tension only thickened. The engine hummed as Nanami pulled onto the road, but neither of you spoke.

You stole a glance at him—his grip on the wheel was a little too tight, his jaw locked. You knew that look. He was frustrated. Agitated. With you and for some reason, that irritated you even more. By the time you reached the office, the silence had stretched unbearably thin.

The building was eerily empty, the usual hum of employees replaced by the distant buzz of fluorescent lights. The weekend lull made everything feel heavier—more private.

Your heels clicked against the polished floor as you walked into your office, flipping on the light. Nanami shut the door behind him, and the soft click of the lock sent a strange pulse through your body. The office was suffocatingly quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning. Nanami stood by the closed door, his arms crossed, his jaw clenched.

You stood opposite him, arms folded, mirroring his defensive stance.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the silence. “Talk.”

Nanami exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re upset.”

“No shit,” you snapped, irritation bubbling beneath your skin.

His eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe. But mostly frustration. “Y/N, I—” He let out a heavy sigh. “Why are you acting like this?”

Your brows shot up. “Are you seriously asking me that?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “Nanami, you always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Get…I don’t know…weird”.

“Weird?”. Nanami raised a brow.

“Yes”.

Nanami’s breath was ragged, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he tried—really tried—not to let his emotions get the best of him. But it was impossible. You were standing there, fire in your eyes, pushing him, challenging him, and all he could think about was how much he wanted you. How much he had always wanted you and how much he fucking hated it.

He hated that you had this power over him. Hated the way you got under his skin, the way you made him feel things he wasn’t supposed to feel. Most of all, he hated the way Gojo looked at you. Like you were something to be treasured. Like you belonged to him.

Nanami had seen it at lunch—the way Gojo had effortlessly slipped into your space, the way he spoke about you, defended you.

And the worst part? You let him.

You let Gojo sit beside you, let him charm your mother, let him tell her not to worry about you like he had any right to. Like he knew you better than Nanami did.

It made Nanami sick and now, here you were, looking at him like he was the villain. Like he was the one making this difficult.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Nanami.” You continued when you received no answer.

Your voice was sharp, cutting through the thick silence.

He exhaled sharply, trying to rein himself in. “I am not doing this to control you, Y/N.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Then what are you doing? Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to manage me instead of listening to me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Then stop treating me like a child!”

“I treat you the way I do because someone has to be responsible!” His voice came out harsher than intended, but he didn’t stop. “Someone has to think things through. Someone has to make sure you don’t—”

“Don’t what?” You cut him off, your eyes narrowing. “Don’t make a decision you don’t agree with?”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “I don’t agree with reckless choices, Y/N.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Reckless? You think I’m reckless?”

He stared at you, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You went out drinking last night and barely made it home in one piece.”

Your eyes flashed. “But I did, didn’t I?”

“Because of Gojo!”. Nanami snapped.

“So what?!”Your breathing was ragged, “So what if it was because of Gojo? Are you upset because you thought I was being reckless or are you upset because Gojo dropped me home?”. 

His stomach twisted, shame creeping up his spine. He knew he had brushed you off last and had dismissed you when you clearly needed him. And yet—

He couldn’t shake the image of Gojo carrying you in his arms.

Like he was the one who had been there for you. Like he was the one who should have been there for you. The thought made Nanami’s blood boil.

You continued unable to stop the feelings pouring over you, “I invited you today because I wanted someone at the table who was..my friend. Whom I know and who understood me! I want some…care. Some reassurance, how hard was it for you to just say ‘it’s okay y/n, I am here’ or “Don’t worry y/n, we will get through this together’ or just ask me how I was doing! I was dying inside and you didn’t even notice it..Instead you called me a child in front of everyone! In front of people I barely knew! In front of my own mother! In my own house!”.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice lower now, more strained.

“Then make me understand,” you shot back. “I am really trying here, Kento. Failing at times, I agree. But I am trying”.

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it fucking matters,” you snapped. “You’re standing here acting like you know what’s best for me, but you won’t even tell me why you care so damn much.”

Nanami inhaled sharply. “Because I do.”

Your breath hitched.

His hands clenched. His pulse pounded in his ears. His restraint was hanging by a thread.

“Because I care about you, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice rough, like the words physically hurt to say. “And I hate it.”

You sucked in a breath, eyes widening.

“I hate that you make me feel this way,” he continued, stepping closer, his frustration pouring out unchecked. “I hate that every time I see you, I want you. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate that Gojo looks at you like he already has you.” His voice was practically a growl now, laced with something dark, something possessive. “I hate that I don’t know if he’s right.”

“But he doesn’t! I am not a fucking trophy in the game between you and Gojo! And if I was so swooned by him I wouldn’t be standing here pouring my heart out to you! My mom invited them but I called you. I wanted you!”

Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.

You stared at him, your lips parted, but no words came out. Everything was said and Nanami realized, with a sharp pang of regret, that he had said too much.

This was wrong. This was messy. This was exactly why he had spent so much time trying to push it down.

His jaw tightened. “This was a mistake,” he said, his voice cold now. “That kiss. This argument. All of it.”

Your heart clenched. “Kento—”, Your voice cracked, “Please don’t say that”.

“We work together,” he cut you off, stepping back. “And that’s all this can be.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced them out anyway.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. “Fine. If that’s what you want then that’s all we shall be. I..I like you. I wanted to be with you. I enjoyed every moment of the walk from the coffee shop to here. Tell me, look at me, and tell me that none of it mastered”.

“It didn’t. We work together”.

A beat of silence.

And then Nanami turned and stormed out of your office, slamming the door behind him. The door slammed shut, and with it, the last shred of your composure shattered.

You barely made it to the couch before your legs gave out beneath you. Your breath came in short, uneven gasps as the weight of everything crashed down all at once. Nanami was gone. Not just from the office, but from whatever fragile thing had been forming between the two of you.

Your vision blurred with tears, hot and unrelenting as they spilled down your cheeks. You tried to hold them back, pressing your palms into your eyes, but it was no use. A broken sob tore from your throat, shaking your entire body.

Why? Why was this happening again? Why couldn’t you ever have what you wanted?

In one life, you had wanted Gojo to see you, to love you the way you had loved him. You had wanted him to fight for you, to make you feel like you were enough. But he hadn’t. He had broken you instead, left you alone in a world where you were supposed to be his.

And now, here you were again—wanting something that was slipping through your fingers before you could even hold it.

Nanami had walked away before anything had even begun and it hurt you. 

The worst part was that you knew he cared. You could see it in the way he looked at you, hear it in the way his voice wavered when he was frustrated, feel it in the tension between you when neither of you knew how to close the distance.

But he still left. Why couldn’t he just stay and fight for what he wanted..just ask what you wanted? 

You were ready to give this a try. You called him for lunch because you wanted him there, you didn’t think the kiss was a mistake. Yet He still looked you in the eyes, told you this was a mistake, and walked away.

A choked sound escaped your lips—somewhere between a sob and a laugh, because wasn’t this just fucking poetic?

You clenched your fists against your lap, your nails digging into your skin as your shoulders trembled. You were so tired.

Tired of wanting things that were never yours to begin with. Tired of hoping for something real, only for it to slip away. Tired of men who claimed to care, only to leave when it mattered most.

Your chest ached, deep and raw, like something was breaking inside you.

And maybe it was.Maybe this was just another piece of you shattering, another scar you’d have to carry.

Maybe this was what it meant to love and lose and keep moving forward, even when it felt like you were walking through fire. But right now, you couldn’t move.

Right now, all you could do was curl into yourself on that damn couch and let the tears come. Your chest was still heaving from the force of your sobs when your phone buzzed against the coffee table. The sudden vibration startled you, yanking you from the depths of your grief.

Gojo. His name lit up the screen. You let it ring.

You couldn’t deal with him right now. Not when your face was tear-streaked, your voice raw, and your heart a mess of tangled emotions.

But the buzzing started again.Persistent.Relentless.

Something twisted in your gut. Gojo didn’t call twice unless it was important. With a shaky breath, you swiped to answer, trying to force the tremble out of your voice. You cleared your throat and spoke as clearly as possible, “Hello?”

The moment Gojo heard your voice he knew it. 

Gojo’s entire demeanor shifted. Gone was the playful lilt he usually carried, replaced with something sharper, something entirely too perceptive.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was low, steady. Controlled in a way that only made it more dangerous.

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Nothing. I’m fine. Why did you call?”. 

Gojo wasn’t having it. “Where are you?”

You hesitated.

“Y/N.” His tone left no room for argument.

“The office,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

A beat of silence. Then the sound of tires screeching.

Your brows furrowed. “Gojo, where are you—”, The call ended.

You stared at the table in front blankly, phone still pressed against your ear, before slowly lowering it.

He had hung up and he was coming.

You didn’t know whether that should terrify or comfort you.

Your hands trembled as you rummaged through the small makeup pouch tucked away in your desk drawer. You had always kept it here for emergencies—though you had never expected one of those emergencies to be covering up the aftermath of a breakdown.

You dabbed concealer under your swollen eyes, brushed some powder over your face, and swiped a bit of lip balm on, hoping it would mask the evidence of your tears. Your reflection in the office window was passable—at least, to someone who wasn’t looking too closely.

Just as you reached for a file, trying to compose yourself, the door burst open. Gojo.

His presence filled the space instantly, an overwhelming force of energy that made the air in the room shift. He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room before locking onto you.

You could feel his gaze sweep over you—your slightly puffy eyes, the way your shoulders were still tense, the stiffness in the way you moved.

His jaw clenched. “Y/N.” His voice was quieter than you expected. Controlled.

You forced a small, casual smile and held up the file you had grabbed. “Gojo, what are you doing here? I just needed to pick something up.” You tried to cover up.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink and then, in an instant, he was in front of you. Too close. Too knowing.

He reached out, fingertips ghosting over your jaw, tilting your face up just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you look at him.

“You’ve been crying.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, edged with something dark. Something dangerously close to anger.

You swallowed hard, trying to pull away, but his hand didn’t move.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered.

Gojo exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the curve of your cheek before he let his hand drop. But the tension in his shoulders didn’t fade. His entire body was taut, like he was restraining himself from doing something reckless.

“Who was it?” he asked, his voice a quiet storm.

Your stomach twisted. You shook your head. “Gojo, please. Just let it go. Can you just tell me why you are here so I can go home?”. You said in a single breath trying to make him believe that you were your usual self.

His eyes flashed. “Not a fucking chance.”

You took a shaky breath, your fingers tightening around the file in your hands. You didn’t want to talk to him. You didn’t want to talk to anyone, really. But he was here and despite everything—despite how tangled and messy your emotions were, despite how much of your pain could be traced back to him in another lifetime—he was still Gojo.

In this timeline, he hadn’t done anything to you yet. Yet.

The word made your chest tighten, but you shoved the thought aside. Right now, he was just standing in front of you, watching you with a patience you didn’t know he possessed. His usual cocky grin was nowhere to be found, his teasing remarks absent. Instead, there was something else in his expression—something you couldn’t quite place.

Concern. You should push him away. You should tell him to leave.

But you didn’t. Because God, you just needed someone right now. A friend and maybe—just maybe—you could rely on him. You exhaled slowly, setting the file down on your desk. “It was Nanami,” you admitted, voice quieter than you intended.

Gojo’s expression barely shifted, but you felt the way the air in the room changed, like a string had been pulled too tight.

“What did he do?” His voice was deceptively calm, but you knew better.

You shook your head, suddenly feeling exhausted. “It’s not like that. We just—” You let out a humorless laugh. “We fought. About everything. About how he never listens to me, how he treats me like I don’t know what I’m doing. And I—I just got so angry.”

Gojo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Sounds like he pissed you off pretty badly.”

You scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp. “And then what?”

You hesitated. “Then he said… this was a mistake.”

Gojo went still.

His fingers twitched at his sides, his jaw tightening just enough for you to notice. “What was a mistake?”. Gojo asked but he knew. 

“We kissed,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

He tilted his head, as if processing your words, before he let out a slow hum. “Oh?” he said, feigning curiosity. “And then he called it a mistake?”

You didn’t notice the slight strain in his voice, but it was there. “Mmhmm”. You sniffle and took a deep breath.

Gojo stayed quiet as you spoke, his face a picture of perfect calm. Too calm. The kind of stillness that wasn’t peaceful—it was dangerous.

“He called it a mistake,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands trembled slightly, gripping the edge of the desk like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Gojo nodded once, slowly, as if he were simply processing your words. As if this was just another conversation. “I see,” he said evenly. But inside? Inside, he was seething.

He had been angry before. He had known rage, known what it felt like to have fury curl hot in his veins, to feel it claw up his throat, demanding release.

But this? This was something else entirely. Nanami had touched you. Kissed you. Had his hands on you and then he had dared—dared—to call it a mistake?

Gojo clenched his fists beneath the desk, where you couldn’t see. If you caught sight of the way his fingers trembled from the sheer force of holding himself back, you’d know just how close he was to losing control. He wanted to destroy something. To hurt something. No—he wanted to hurt Nanami.

Not just because he had kissed you. Not just because he had the audacity to think he could have you. But because he had made you cry and that? That was something Gojo would not forgive.

"Y/N." His voice was steady, almost gentle. But there was something else beneath it, something dark. “That wasn’t fair to you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I just don’t get it,” you whispered. “I— I don’t know why I keep ending up here. Wanting something, thinking it’s finally within reach, and then watching it slip away before it even begins.It’s like I am cursed. Like I am living the same story again and again”

Gojo’s jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it, his fingers itching, burning, for something to break. You had always belonged to him. You just didn’t see it yet.

And maybe, if he had been just a little different—if he had been less selfish—he would have let you go. But he wasn’t and he wouldn’t.

Gojo exhaled slowly, measuredly, the only outward sign of his anger. “It’s not you,” he said, his voice too soft, too careful. The kind of quiet you only got before a storm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You let out another bitter laugh. “Didn’t I?”

Gojo’s vision blurred at the edges, red-hot rage pulsing in his veins, but still, his voice stayed steady. “No, you didn’t,” he said. But this time, his words were firm. Unyielding. Because he knew exactly what you were thinking.

That maybe it was your fault. That maybe if you had done something differently, Nanami wouldn’t have walked away and Gojo hated that because he knew the truth. The truth was that Nanami was a fucking idiot.

And Gojo wasn’t sure if he was more furious at him for hurting you— or at himself for letting it happen.

Because if Nanami had just held on to you—if he had been worthy of you—Gojo would have stepped back. If he knew that you were genuinely happy with Nanami he would have stepped away for your happiness. But Nanami had hurt you. 

He wouldn’t step back now.

And now, looking at you, eyes rimmed with the evidence of your heartbreak, Gojo knew—Nanami never deserved you in the first place and if Gojo had anything to say about it, no one else would ever get the chance to hurt you like this again. Ever.

Still, he kept his voice even, steady. “You deserve better,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours like he was branding the words into your soul. “And one day, you’ll see that too.”

And when that day came? Gojo would make damn sure that no one stood between you and him.

Gojo took a slow breath, forcing the burning rage in his chest to the back of his mind. As much as he wanted to storm out of the office, track down Nanami, and make him pay for what he’d done to you, that wasn’t what you needed right now. You were what mattered.

Not his anger. Not his jealousy. You, And right now, you were breaking apart right in front of him. So he moved.

Slowly, deliberately, like approaching something fragile—like if he made a wrong move, you’d shatter entirely. His arms came around you, strong and steady, pulling you against him. The moment his warmth wrapped around you, something in you cracked.

You stiffened for half a second, your mind catching up to what was happening. To the fact that it was Gojo holding you. Your past with him flashed behind your eyes—everything that had been, everything that could have been, everything that had never been.

There had been a time when you had wanted this more than anything. To be his.

To have him hold you like this—not just because you were falling apart, but because he wanted to. Yet, despite all the pain, all the history, all the complications—you leaned into him.

Because right now, you didn’t have the energy to fight it. You just needed someone to hold you together.

So you pressed your forehead against his chest, his scent—clean and familiar—surrounding you, his arms tightening around your waist. And then, finally, the dam broke.

A sob ripped through you, raw and desperate, and Gojo felt it more than he heard it.

He felt the way your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping you upright. He felt the way your body trembled against his, the weight of everything finally crashing down on you. Gojo hated it. Hated that it was Nanami who had made you cry like this.

Your breath hitched, and then the sob came—raw, broken, the kind that made your entire body shake. Gojo’s grip instantly tightened.

One arm locked around your back, anchoring you against him, while the other cradled the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, pressing you closer, closer, closer.

Like he could take the pain from you. Like he could absorb the pain. Like he could fix this.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low, steady, filled with an honesty that even he wasn’t used to.

But he meant it. He always had.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the world, and his heart clenched at the desperation in your touch.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the crown of your head. “I promise, you’re okay.” His hand stroked soothingly down your back, slow and deliberate, trying to ease the tremors racking your body.

You sobbed harder. Gojo only held you tighter.

“Just let it out,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And he wasn’t.

He wouldn’t. Not this time. Not ever again.

So he just stood there, letting you break apart in his arms, his grip never faltering, his warmth steady and unwavering.

Because if he had anything to say about it, you would never have to stand alone again.

Fate stood at the corner of the office, watching the two of you embrace. He had been here for a while, just invisible. His friend next to him sighed. “I told you. They will find each other again”. He scoffed, “That’s only because you had to go and give the white haired idiot his memories”.

“It’s only fair game! And I did it because I could tell he was being drawn to her. He just didn’t know who she was”.

He shook his head in disappointment. “I thought she would choose something different. Humans really don’t change, do they?”.

“Humans can change. This experiment will prove it. He will change and she will see it”.

Fate tilted his head and smirked, “What about that guy?”. He motioned towards a blond man standing on the far side of the lobby looking in. “He doesn’t seem happy, does he?”.

His friend followed his gaze, “Yeah. He fucked up. But my bet is still on the blond”. 

“We shall see my friend, we shall see”.

@commandertorindhepard @inlove-maze @starlightanyaaa @missybrat @lem-hhn @valleydoli @definetlythinkimanalien @luckyangelballoon @sheep-infog @gojoprincesss @kanaojacksonofc @bubera974 @ginginha @mari-ho14 @mashtura @bitchycloudstrawberry @sleepykittyenergy

[byler-invested]

Oh my God. Oh my fucking god.

The “crazy together” thing just made me realize SOMETHING.

__________

Remember “The Last of Us”?

Ellie and Riley (both girls) are best friends but secretly love each other.

Byler.

1. Neon Mall

Riley takes Ellie on a fun / romantic night to the old abandoned mall full of neon lights.

STARCOURT ANYONE?

2. Lingerie Shop

They both look at a lingerie shop, get awkward & flustered; and it’s this way that’s implied they feel sexual attraction to each other.

THIS EXACT THING HAPPENED IN S3 WHEN MIKE, WILL AND LUCAS WERE LOOKING FOR GIFTS FOR EL IN STARCOURT…

3. Carousel & Ponies

They get on a carousel, ride the horses.

Similar to the “fun” riding pony in Starcourt, which plays the same song that was in the background of the Russian code “blue meets yellow in the west”.

4. Daisy Bell

And BY THE WAY, side note— this extremely creepy song is “Daisy Bell”, the first song to ever be sung by a computer (IBM 7094), in 1961. I know, very unsettling and weird.

And yet, that’s not all. Here are the lyrics:

Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do.

I’m half crazy all for the love of you.

It won’t be a stylish marriage, I can’t afford a carriage.

But you’ll look sweet, Upon the seat, Of a bicycle made for two.

Michael, Micheal, here is your answer true.

I’m not crazy all for the love of you.

There won’t be any marriage, If you can’t afford a carriage.

‘Cause I’ll be switched, If I get hitched, On a bicycle built for two!”

According to the dictionary:

hitch = pull; harness; knot; problem; get married; move (something) into a different position with a jerk

👆👆Keep this in mind for now.

5. Sewers & Falling-Outs

Riley explains what made her leave the organization she and Ellie were a part of:

‘I turn 17 next month, that's when you get your assignment. You know what Kwong gave me? Sewage detail. Standing guard while people shovel s***, that's what they think of me.'

This might not mean much, but I found it interesting because the sewers seem to be a relevant aspect in ST5.

But a part of me can’t help but wonder that maybe this is also a sign of Will having a falling-out/ disagreement with someone on his “side”— a while ago, there was a reliable leak about something like that happening between Will and Dustin. Interesting. Maybe having to do with Hellfire?

6. Photos

Riley & Ellie get into a Photo Booth and pose for pictures.

Not super relevant, but this reminded me that Mike only smiles in photos when Will is also there; does this mean we‘ll have a photo moment with them? Maybe Jonathan takes their pic?

7. Arcade

Riley shows Ellie a bright gaming arcade, Ellie says it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, and they play Mortal Kombat against each other.

“Palace Arcade”, a place both Mike and Will love… is it just me or does ‘palace’ give romantic vibes?

8. Alcohol & Drugs

They sit together, get drunk, talk a lot, laugh in pure happiness.

Highler = they smoke weed and also get drunk.

9. Betrayal

Riley reveals she’s going to leave for a resistance organization, Ellie sees a pile of handmade explosives, & an argument ensues, because Ellie feels betrayed and assumes that Riley did all that just to try and recruit her.

My guess: while drunk, Will confides in Mike that he’s gay and secretly dating/ having encounters with Chance (who, on top of that, is involved with the jocks who witch-hunted Eddie— hence all the Judas references in s4).

Mike obviously feels betrayed, jealous, gets furious and leaves.

Bonus angst: Will thinks part of Mike’s anger stems from Will being gay, since by this point Will doesn’t know Mike actually loves him back.

10. Regret & Rekindling

Ellie eventually feels bad & comes back.

I think all of us can see Mike Wheeler doing the exact same thing.

11. Heart-to-Heart

They have a conversation, a heart-to-heart, and explain themselves:

'You don't know what it was like to have a family to belong to,' Riley said. 'I belonged to them and I want that again. Maybe the Fireflies aren't what I think they are but they chose me. I matter to them.'

'But you matter to me first,' Ellie said.

Ellie told her she was her best friend and would miss her.

To me, this definitely reads like Will explaining why he felt tempted to get involved with Chance; and Mike emphasizing, reminding him, that he is the one who cared first and is his true best friend.

12. Playing, Kissing & Loving

On a lighter mood, after playfully putting funny masks on and dancing while listening to music, they finally kiss each other.

With byler I think their kiss is going to lead to some kind of sexual contact.

13. Infection & Attack

This is when the infected zombie attacks Riley & Ellie and both get bitten.

The AIDS thing… Mike and Will get infected.

Also Lonnie, metaphorically attacking them… or… him literally & materially coming back to make their lives into more of a living hell?

14. Crazy Together

They both go into despair and this is what Riley proclaims:

'They way I see it we have two options, one we take the easy way out,' Riley said holding a gun. 'Quick and painless. No, I don't like option one. Option two, we just keep going.'

'What are you talking about, it's over,' Ellie said.

'It will be but not yet,' Riley said. ‘We can be all poetic and sh*t and just lose our minds together.’

Sound familiar?

‘Hey Will… if we’re both going crazy, then… we’ll go crazy together, right?’

‘Yeah… Crazy together.’

*Outside the Realm by Big Giant Circles plays*

15. Immunity

As time passes, Ellie realizes she’s immune to the fungal infection. As far as we know, Riley is not.

This makes me think that maybe, there is something about Mike that makes him out-survive Will. Maybe also an immunity, maybe just because he was infected later in life, maybe something else.

Ellie is immune because, as we find out later, she was infected very shortly before birth. Her mother was bitten during the last seconds of pregnancy.

What could this mean for Mike? And Karen???

16. Unknown Fate

Both in the videogame and in the TV show, it’s never revealed what actually happened to Riley.

It’s possible that she was either eventually shot by Ellie, simply turned into a zombie and Ellie left her like that, or some secret third thing no one knows yet.

This aligns with Will’s ambiguous state of life. Did he really die? What truly happened to him? Does he come back? He, too, became the ‘zombie boy.’

17. The Cure

Scientists in Salt Lake City (!!!) conclude that Ellie’s brain holds the key to reverse-engineer a cure / vaccine, but that she will die in the process. She escapes with the help of a guardian / father figure.

As we all know, Salt Lake City also makes an appearance in Stranger Things, which is definitely interesting.

Mike has consistently been described as the key 🔑. What is this key? Is it because he’s intelligent and creative enough to strategize, manipulate reality and write an alternate story? However this would work in the Stranger Things universe?

18. Lore

When it comes to the sci-fi lore of this show, I believe there’s some kind of technology (similar to Nina) that allows for reality manipulation and changing of past events.

Maybe Mike used his imagination combined with the machine’s powers to fabricate an alternate, watered-down narrative, for Will.

You know, a watered-down narrative, exactly what Murray Bauman said in s2.

However, this unfortunately comes with side effects, because the timeline becomes increasingly bizarre as its control is somehow connected to Mike’s mind. And besides creating what he wants, it manifests in increasingly unexpected ways and also aspects of his subconscious (Vecna, etc.).

19. The Tempest & The Forbidden Planet

As I’ve said before, this is very similar to the unique concept of The Forbidden Planet (1956) movie, which is based on The Tempest (1611), a play by Shakespeare. This is highly relevant because The Tempest is referenced in ST set design (a Hawkins High theatre club poster).

Someone in the ST analysis community (sorry I can’t remember who) has a longer post about this play. I’d like to write one about The Forbidden Planet (a sci-fi adaptation of the fantasy original), but this post is already becoming way too long.

Conclusion

I guess my point is, I think that the Duffers are doing a sci-fi meets psychology meets culture meets imagination thing. There is a technological or scientific element in the show’s lore that combines all of this in order to alter reality.

At least, this is my current theory.

I think in the original, realistic, non-supernatural timeline, Will really died and all those horrible things (abuse, AIDS, etc.) did happen.

And as dark as it might be, I think this grim reality is actually going to be revealed in s5— by somehow peeling back the subtext layer (the curtain).

We can infer this by paying attention to the unexplained & nonsensical discrepancies between the two articles about Will’s disappearance in s1 and s2. The fact that the real article about the OG timeline is shown in the series, onscreen, means, to me, that this timeline will in fact be revealed in-universe. I’ll be posting my detailed thoughts on that as well.

How will they open the curtain? I think the simulation machine or alternate reality created is going to be forcibly and unexpectedly shut off at some point, causing the naked raw truth about Will and Hawkins to be revealed.

Side note: If you think about it, they’ve made so many references to systems being suddenly shut off (electricity turning off in the entire Hawkins town in 3x01, them shutting the Puzzle Tales mobile game off for literally no reason while sending weird hint-y goodbye messages, among other instances…).

However, they might be able to fix it, and ultimately, I think there will be a happy ending for Mike and Will, even if it’s in the better world created by Mike.

Thank you so much for reading and let me know what you think.

__________

Tagging: @greenfiend @threemanoperation @strange-anni @erikiara80 @reo-bylerwagon @bylerlipglances

The Nested Universes Theory

and the high chance of a very literal bitter/sweet ending…

Yes, Will and Mike will end up together, but their ending may be both happy and tragic simultaneously.

(This theory may explain why the cast and Netflix executives were crying heavily when informed of the show’s ending…)

I'm warning you guys, take care of yourself while reading this. This isn't an easy read.

CW: CSA, sex, drugs, HIV/AIDS, period typical homophobia, death

Framed Narratives/Stories

Framed narratives are basically a story within a story. Common examples of this are the movie “The Princess Bride” and “Titanic”. Both stories have the story of the narrator and the story within.

Another example is Stranger Things itself. When we see the boys playing Dungeons and Dragons, they are creating a story within a story.

Sometimes, framed narratives are nested, meaning multiple layers of storytelling. An example of this would be the movie “Inception”. In that movie there are dreams within dreams within dreams… It’s a complex but fascinating way to tell stories.

Now, I do think Stranger Things is also a nested narrative story. Meaning, there may be a layer of a story that hasn’t been revealed to us yet (or more than one).

Basically I’m saying: the show itself may be a story created by some of the characters.

I’m guessing two characters in particular. Which two characters? The two most associated with creating stories. The writer and artist. Two of the characters that have existed since the show’s inception.

Mike and Will.

Multiple Universes

I do think there are multiple timelines/universes within Stranger Things… but it’s not exactly what you think. It’s not parallel universes/timelines. They do not exist parallel to each other, they exist within each other.

This is the reason for the “memory within a memory”, “play within a play” references.

It’s a story within a story within a story.

While Mike and Will are creating their DnD campaigns, there is another version of Mike and Will creating the story we see within the show.

Let’s break it down:

Inner layer: Mike and Will’s characters existing within a DnD campaign

Middle layer: Mike and Will within the show creating the DnD campaign

Outer layer: Mike and Will creating the story of the show

Mike and Will’s story within the frame (the outer layer) likely does share a lot in common with the story within the show, with one major difference:

There’s no Upside Down, and no supernatural elements. No superpowers, and no superheroes. There are still monster(s) and heroes, but these monsters and heroes are real.

Living on as “Heroes”

Ever notice the association between characters being referred to as “a hero” after facing their demise?

We have seen this time and time again. It’s not a coincidence, it’s a pattern.

Love for horror and escapism

@threemanoperation has a great post on Will’s love for horror.

It makes perfect sense for a boy like Will to enjoy horror. It can be a great way to process trauma and grief.

We also know even from the earliest descriptions for Mike and Will’s characters that they both love to “escape” into fantasy. They do this together, through DnD.

Gods/Puppet Masters/Creators

Within the show, there are many subtle nods to Will and Mike somehow controlling/manipulating things. These hints have lead to many interesting theories about Mike and/or Will having powers. In a sense, they both are absolutely right! But if this theory is correct, their influence over the show is mainly due to them creating it. They’re the authors, so in a way, they’re both “Gods”.

Solving the “Letter to Willy”/Lettergate puzzle

"Letter to Willy" is a song that plays over three different scenes within ST4. Each scene involves regrets, and survivor's guilt.

Max mourns Billy and reads out her letter "before it's too late" aka before she dies too.

Mike and Will have a heart-to-heart and Mike expresses guilt over El leaving, thinking there was more he could have done. This occurs while they are burying a dead man's body.

Dustin tells Eddie's uncle that Eddie died a hero, despite what the town thought.

This all leads back to Mike and Will within the story's outer layer. This also connects with the writer's incomplete letter they posted years ago on Twitter. I'll get back to this.

A father infecting his child

Oh boy. I hate this part but it requires context so…

Hopper admits to indirectly causing the death of his daughter, Sarah. He had been exposed to Agent Orange which led to his daughter developing cancer at a young age. He has remorse and has been grieving Sarah this whole time.

Now, Hopper is a decent guy and father, and is written as an almost “fix it” version of Mike and Will’s own fathers. He isn’t perfect, but he’s a man who strives to grow and improve himself.

Papa, is not a decent guy, and we also see him injecting El and Henry with needles.

So, what I’m saying is that this may be a hint to what happened to Will (in the 99/100 timeline). Lonnie is hinted to be a drug user, and it wouldn’t be far fetched to say he may have used IV drugs. Exposure to IV drugs is a way to transmit diseases, as blood may be exchanged through contaminated needles. Also, Lonnie has been hinted at, through subtext, to be a horrible monster. (<- click that link for a post about him.)

The “1/100” Timeline

The show itself is the 1 out of 100 timeline. It is the only one where Will was not kidnapped by his parent/guardian (Lonnie).

This means, it is the one where none of the tragic stuff ever happened, specifically to Will and Mike’s story at least. They may encounter challenges, but nothing they cannot overcome together, as a team.

1983: The Demogorgon got Will. He survives the horrors done to him in the Upside Down… but barely. He is taken to the hospital and heals from it all, including flu-like symptoms (cough, nausea/vomiting).

1984: Will suffers from flashbacks. He is also plagued with the nickname “Zombie Boy” and suffering from the Mind Flayer’s possession of him. But with the love of his family, and Mike, is able to return back to his reality.

1985: He then begins to struggle with the pressures of growing up, and having to move away. Plus the Mind Flayer returns and reeks more havoc.

1986: He then moves to a pleasant place. Where things are sunny and warm. Things on the surface seem happy and “normal” but there’s a looming threat hidden beneath the surface. Henry/1/Vecna. This opportunistic threat preys on the weak and begins to take over Hawkins.

1987-1989: Will is back in Hawkins and his ties to the Upside Down increase. He can’t shake it off as easily as before. He also can’t shake off his love for Mike, who grows even closer to him. One thing leads to another and they become lovers (they have sex). They eventually are able to stop the contamination of Hawkins, and save everyone. Will also realizes that he has developed superpowers from his time in the Upside Down, through his blood. Mike also develops superpowers, given to him by Will.

Okay… you might understand where I’m going with this but I still must warn you before reading the next part. It’s devastatingly tragic.

The “99/100” Timeline

(I’m probably wrong on some of these details but this is what I theorize thus far):

1983: Lonnie “got” Will (CSA). Will survives the horrors done to him by his father… but barely. He is taken to the hospital and heals from it all and from flu-like symptoms (cough, nausea/vomiting).

1984: Will suffers from flashbacks. He is also plagued with the nickname “Zombie Boy” and suffering from the flashbacks of his father’s possession of him. But with the love of his family, and Mike, is able to return back to reality.

1985: He then begins to struggle with the pressures of growing up. Plus the memories of Lonnie return and reek more havoc.

1986: Things on the surface seem happy and “normal” but there’s a looming threat hidden beneath the surface. HIV -> AIDS. Opportunistic infections slowly begin to prey on Will.

1987-?: Will can’t shake off colds and infections as easily as before. He also can’t shake off his love for Mike, who grows even closer to him. One thing leads to another and they become lovers (they have sex). Will soon discovers he has HIV/AIDS, which he had transmitted to Mike. Devastated by the news, they do everything they can to fight it together. They cope through creating a DnD campaign together to process everything they’ve gone through. They play DnD in Mike’s basement until Will’s condition becomes critical. Will is forced to stay in the hospital, while Mike is unable to visit (strict rules about visitation due to the disease and because they aren’t/cannot be considered legal partners). So, Mike does the only thing he can do: he writes letters to Will and continues the story. Mike eventually loses Will, for real this time. He’s devastated, and plagued with grief, depression, and survivor’s guilt. He didn’t complete their story in time. But his family and friends support him and encourage him to finish the story. To change the ending before his time runs out too. He completes their story himself, and reads his final letter to Will’s grave.

“anyway I think you’ll like [the ending]. sorry I couldn’t get it done [on time] but you mean so [much to me] and it’s been [so hard being without you] hope this is [enough to] last until [we meet again]. Love, [Mike].”

Attached to this letter is the full campaign. The full story of the show itself, which started on November 6th, 1983. He successfully turned back the clock, and changed their ending. They became superheroes within their story, saving Hawkins with their love. Mike dies soon after and we are met with…

Mike and Will reuniting within their own story. Blue meeting yellow at a gate, one final time, that leads “into the west”.

They continue their story and it’s a never ending story… Living on as heroes, forever and ever.

Some thoughts:

To simplify things, I didn’t include other characters much here but they likely all play an important role in the story. Many characters likely only exist within the mid layer (the 1/100 timeline).

I do think their story likely will be published, and this will be done by another character (my guess is Lucas). Their story will impact others profoundly, perhaps completely altering perspectives. This will lead towards positive change, and increase pressure for the development of a “cure”.

Lonnie obviously dies too, but we won’t see it. He’s significant but irrelevant. We don’t need to see him. Perhaps he rots in jail.

If characters like Nancy, Jonathan, Joyce, and Hopper all exist within the outer layer (the 99/100 timeline) in a similar way, they too may be inflicted with HIV/AIDS. Remember, it wasn’t just gay men, everyone was affected by this awful epidemic.

The time period is super relevant in this story. There’s no way that HIV/AIDS will not play an important role. Think about it… it revolves around two gay boys growing up during that time. This epidemic was widespread and terrifying. Had they been born a decade later, there would have been treatments/“cures” accessible to them.

The biggest reason why I strongly believe this theory is because… this is basically the ending of Stranger Things season 1, on a much grander scale. Think about it. Mike changed the ending of the DnD campaign so Will could be a hero, not a victim. This was further established in the comics.

While Mike and Will within the outer layer (99/100) have a tragic ending, Mike and Will within the show (1/100) do not. They beat the odds. Although it is undeniably a tragic end, remember that somewhere out there Mike and Will are still playing DnD and Nintendo for the rest of their lives.

Free Will and Writing your Own Ending

Free will has always been a reoccurring theme within Stranger Things; meaning we can choose our own destiny, fight chance, and beat the odds.

Do we truly have free will though? Obviously, we don’t know. The point is, we should still live life as if we do have it. To take control where we can, and not let external forces dictate who we are and what our destiny is. I think that’s the message there.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

What started as a joke about the Hexcore being Viktor's toxic replacement boyfriend has genuinely changed how I look at that part of the story. Because I was like lololol WAIT BUT KINDA. He does develop a weird codependent relationship with that orb. They're obsessed with each other. They're compelled toward each other. The Hexcore does not just transform him. They transform each other; the Hexcore growing more organic as Viktor grows more magical. There's an exchange; a relationship there. They feed on each other (blood, magical energy). There is something almost vampiric about their interactions: Viktor (literally!) allowing the Hexcore to suck his blood; the Hexcore entering his body to transform it. There's the fact that he strips down to his underwear for both these transformation scenes (even though he technically could have been half-clothed both times). Not to mention the literal sex scene intercut with Viktor's first uhhh commingling with the Hexcore. There is an undeniably gothic and sensual element to it, the idea of surrendering yourself to a dangerous, unknowable force with a willingness to be transformed.

And yeah sure you can argue that Viktor was being controlled by the Hexcore from the moment he built it. I think there's enough textual evidence to support that reading. But that's boring!! It's much more interesting to me if Viktor is making the choice to keep coming back to the Hexcore, out of desperation and hubris, ignoring the signs that it's a dangerous, powerful object he doesn't understand.

I think you miss out on a lot of interesting Viktor characterization if you don't think that Viktor is doing this of his own free will. It might seem like a minor semantic difference but I think of the Hexcore not as controlling Viktor but as enabling him, drawing out some of his more self-destructive qualities: his obsessiveness; his tendency to self-isolate; recklessness born out of knowing he would have a shortened lifespan; and yes, arrogance in thinking he understands this thing he's created well enough to keep it from hurting anyone except himself. (He is willing to keep pushing the limit if he's convinced that the only person being hurt or put at risk is himself, which in itself says something about how little he has to lose at this point.) It is not just the Hexcore that kills Sky; it is Viktor's own stubbornness and unwillingness to see the damage he is doing before it's too late. Sky pulls him back enough to get his hand off the Hexcore three times, and every time he grabs it again. If he'd let go the first time, she would have lived.

And it's so fucking SAD, because Viktor is in his toxic spiral with the Hexcore from 1.05 through 1.09 and NO ONE SEES IT. It's such a contrast to the beginning of Hextech, where the scientific breakthroughs happen when Viktor and Jayce are together, happen because they're together. All of Viktor's breakthroughs in understanding how the Hexcore works happen when he's alone with it, frequently at night long after everyone else has left the lab. He keeps reaching out to it, even after it does things that scare him, because he is desperate and alone and thinks it can offer him something he needs. In the process their life-forces become inextricably tied together; while one lives the other cannot die. And they end up consuming each other to the detriment of the rest of the world.

[mintjuliee]

Dear Mom, My darkroom is all set up and ready to go! I brought Bolin to help me clear out the spare room Aunt Lin said I could use, but when we arrived, it was pretty much already empty. Bolin helped me organize my equipment and get it into place. He also sniffed the inside of the development chemical bottles when he thought I wasn't looking. I am pretending I didn't see it.

Anyway, I am eager to put my new workspace to use. For better or worse, there is so much going on in Republic City right now, and I feel as though I can't let the moments slip by undocumented. One day I want be able to look back and grasp the magnitude of what happened, even if it isn't so beautiful to look at. I also want to know that we— me, Aunt Lin, Korra, Asami, Bolin, Mako, Tenzin, the airbenders, all the volunteers— rallied together to help in any way that we could. It is eerie to see so much rubble and destruction, but beyond that, it is the knowing that every building, every shattered storefront, was the life and legacy of so many people. One that they can't get back. I've even caught Aunt Lin staring out the window with a funny look in her eye. There is a growing sense that things are never going to quite be what they were. I just hope whatever comes along next will help all of these people put their lives back together.

As I am sure you can tell, there is something a little off about my latest photo. Bolin was the one that took it. I explicitly told him to get a shot of Aunt Lin and me to send back home but he took some creative liberties. I would have made him retake it, but it was the last one in the roll. I almost didn't develop it all, but I figured it might make you laugh. Aunt Lin was less amused by his seemingly endless capacity for misinterpreting instructions. I am not so sure he is going to last in this line of work. Though, you know Bolin, nothing can kill his spirit. The few times I have asked Aunt Lin how he is doing working for the RCPD has produced mostly grumbling punctuated by a gruff "... he's a good kid."

I miss you by the way, all of you. I thought about coming to visit, but Juicy's allergies have been acting up worse than usual and I don't want her to strain herself. I hope we can get together soon. Love, Opal

P.S. Do you recognize this photo? Aunt Lin pulled it out of one of her desk drawers and tossed it my way. She said I could keep it if I wanted to add it to my collection or something. I thought it would be best to send it your way for safekeeping. Though, I would like to know if there is any sort of story behind it.

Kofi☕ / Art Tag / Read it On AO3 Opal's Camera: Letter 1 Letter 2 Lore 1

[putiflowy]

‎‧₊˚🎀𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂🎀‎˚₊‧

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚎𝚞𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚕! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜. 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸𝙺

"Rosie!" Alastor stormed into Cannibal Town's most renowned shop, his nervousness palpable. He weaved through the crowd, brushing past people in the carefully organized queue, earning irritated glares from those around him.

"Al, it's been a while!" The woman behind the counter greeted him. She stepped out from behind the counter to get a closer look at her friend, studying him curiously as he huffed and puffed, clearly agitated. "Let me guess..." her black eyes gleamed with amusement. "...you're here because you need my help," she teased, giving his shoulder a playful pat. It wasn’t uncommon for him to show up in times of need. "Tell me. Does this have something to do with... you-know-who?" She winked as she spoke, the unspoken name hanging in the air. Alastor didn’t answer, but the faint blush creeping across his cheeks spoke volumes.

"You're leaving?" one of her most loyal customers called out.

"I'll be right back, darling," she replied with a warm smile, handing the customer a tray with small pieces of flesh as a distraction. "Here, try some of our free samples in the meantime."

"Alright," the customer muttered as she chewed on the raw meat. "But make it quick!"

"Don't worry, dear," Rosie replied with a calm smile, "I'm getting you one of the freshest pieces from Hell!" She maintained her composure as she walked away with Alastor beside her. Then, glancing over at him, she whispered, "Ugh, fucking Susan..."

"As lovely as always," Alastor joked, feeling a bit more at ease in her presence.

"I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way here just to talk about Susan," Rosie said, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Tell me, darling. What happened?"

Alastor exhaled deeply before speaking. His usual confidence seemed to drain when he started talking about you. "Well... we went on a date, I suppose, and—"

"A DATE!" Rosie clapped her hands together with enthusiasm. "THAT’S MAGNIFICENT!"

"Rose, listen," Alastor sighed, his mind drifting back to the date. "It wasn't that great."

"What do you mean?" Rosie placed a hand on her chest, a look of concern crossing her face.

"It all happened so fast, and I didn't know what to do," Alastor muttered, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "It was so embarrassing."

"What happened, Al?" Rosie carefully sat beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his back. "Did they bite you?" she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, Rosie," Alastor murmured, tilting his head toward her. "I made a fool of myself."

"Oh, darling." Rosie's voice softened with concern as she patted his back gently. "I've never seen you like this." She couldn't help but notice his usual confident posture faltering, his ears drooping lower than usual.

"I don't think they'll see me in the same light after what happened!" Alastor exclaimed, defeated.

"Come on, Al!" She gave him a reassuring smile. "You are a great guy, why would they think differently about you?" She gently pinched his cheek.

"I don't know," he sighed, his voice filled with uncertainty. "They tried to kiss me, but I just froze. I didn't know how… I've never… done that before." He felt stupid saying it out loud, but it was the truth. If he'd confessed this to anyone else, they'd probably have a good laugh at his expense. The mighty Radio Demon, completely inexperienced when it came to intimacy. But with Rosie? No. He could trust her with this kind of things.

"Al," she said softly, taking his hand. "Whatever happened probably wasn't as bad as you think. They kissed you, right? That's a good sign. I'm sure they like you enough to not be bothered by your lack of experience. Just open your heart to them like you did with me." She gently lifted his chin, her touch comforting.

"ROSIE!" A loud voice shouted from outside the room.

"That's Susan," she stated, standing up quickly. "I have to go." She turned to leave. "And now, go find your lover."

"Thanks, Ros—" Before she could hear him, she was already gone.

Alastor sat in silence, reflecting on Rosie's words. Maybe it was time to open up and share his feelings. But just recently, he was trembling when you tried to kiss him. How was he supposed to make things normal and casually tell you how he felt? Even though he knew you felt the same way, it seemed so much harder with you. Why was it so easy to talk to other sinners, yet so difficult with you?

Without much more thought, he rushed back to the hotel where he left you. Confidence swelled within him like never before. He was going to do it. Just like in those black and white movies he used to watch back when he was on Earth. A kiss so passionate you'd remember it for the rest of eternity. He didn't care if you were standing at the entrance of the hotel, with everyone staring at the two of you. Yes! This was going to be something to remember.

Before entering the hotel, he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the windows. His hair was a little messy from the wind, so he took a moment to smooth it out. Once he was ready, he opened the door with a swift motion and made his way upstairs. As he was walking, he saw you coming downstairs. The sight of you made his confidence falter, and suddenly, the urge to run away (again) crept up on him.

"Al," you spoke first, breaking the silence. "I was… looking for you." Alastor stood frozen, unable to meet your gaze. His fingers fidgeted with his microphone while his other hand stayed hidden behind his back. "I just wanted to talk to you." You stepped closer, wanting to meet him at eye level. "Listen, about before…" You scratched your arm nervously, trying to hide your embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I totally misread the situation. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable." You nervously played with your fingers, hoping your apology would be accepted.

"You didn't, my dear." He finally spoke, lifting his gaze to meet yours. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "From the moment I saw you, all I've done is dream of this moment. And when it finally came… I was nothing but a coward." He was just inches away from you now, his heart pounding in his chest. In a swift motion, he threw his cane aside and cupped your face in his hands. "And that ends right now."

His kiss lingered on your lips, soft yet full of unspoken intensity, a tender contrast to the palpable tension that hung in the air. Every fiber of his being felt alive, electrified by the closeness between you. The connection was so deep it almost took his breath away. And yet, amidst the overwhelming desire, a quiet fear awakened. The fear of losing this moment, of it slipping away before he could fully embrace it. Desperately, he clung to the kiss, as if holding on to the very essence of you, unwilling to let you go.

It took you a moment to fully process what was happening, the shock and disbelief mingling in your chest. This was not a dream. Once the truth sank in everything shifted. Without thinking, you pulled him closer, your hands threading through his hair as you melted into the kiss. Time seemed to stand still as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you locked in this perfect connection.

The kiss deepened, each moment stretching into eternity as you both surrendered to the feeling. His hands, once trembling with uncertainty, now moved with a quiet confidence to your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth of his touch seemed to sink into your skin, each second more intoxicating than the last.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. The silence between you was heavy, charged with everything that had built up until this very moment. Words were not needed to know what he was thinking about. His gaze alone said more than words ever could.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, simply sharing the same space, the same breath, savoring the long wanted connection. Then, with an almost nervous laugh, he pulled back slightly, as if suddenly aware of what had just happened.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this to happen,” you whispered.

"Me too..." he replied, his voice raw, vulnerable in a way you hadn't heard before.

You smiled softly, your thumb tracing the outline of his lips, still feeling the warmth of his touch. The way his hands had cradled your face, as if he were afraid you'd slip away. But as time stretched on, a quiet emptiness settled in, making you crave the warmth of his kiss again. The desire to feel his lips on yours was undeniable, and you couldn't shake the need to close the gap between you once more.

The kiss deepened, but this time, it was more than just passion. It was something unspoken, a shared agreement between the two of you. It was a quiet promise that this moment wasn't just a burst of desire, but the beginning of something lasting.

When you pulled away, the world around you seemed to slow. His eyes were filled with emotion, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. Alastor opened his mouth as if to speak, but words failed him. He reached for your hand, his fingers lightly brushing yours before he entwined them together. You could feel the tremor in his touch, the weight of those unspoken emotions that he struggled to articulate.

For the first time, you saw his real self: vulnerable, exposed, and yet full of that undeniable strength that had drawn you to him in the first place.

"I've never... felt like this," he admitted, his voice low, almost as if he was afraid to admit it out loud. "Not like this. Not with anyone."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling in your chest. Words failed you in that moment, so instead, you squeezed his hand gently. Even if you had felt those love butterflies before, it was always something precious and worth celebrating. There was a quiet pause, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was just the two of you standing there, together, finally understanding each other.

"This was my first kiss," he confessed, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand and his gaze never leaving yours. "But don't be worried! I’m a quick learner," he added with a wink, a newfound confidence replacing the uncertainty in his voice.

"There's no need to worry. You were wonderful," you said, your voice warm and reassuring. "I'm certain that with time, it'll only get better".

For a few moments, he stayed still, basking in the shared sense of something new and important unfolding between you. It was more than just a kiss, it was the beginning of a journey that he was eager to explore.

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Alastor leaned in again, this time planting a playful kiss on your lips. "Well then," he said with a smile, pulling back just enough to speak. "How about we take this one step at a time, starting with another kiss?"

You laughed softly, your hands finding their way to his chest as you leaned in again, the rest of the world fading into the background. This moment, this feeling, was all that mattered now.

[in-som-niyah]

I've been binging your posts lately and I adore the way you potray Jason, makes me physically emotionally and spiritually weak

I'd like to see Jason with reader who has avoidant attachment issues if it's okay with you. 😔

a/n: ok so what you're saying is you want me to spill my guts on here??????? alr fine im a woman of the ppl ig *sigh*

Jason todd x Avoidant!Reader Hcs

ok so this is complicated to even conceptualize how the both of you got into a relationship because both of you have the same attachment style..... kinda like magnets of the same pole...do not attract and actually repel eachother...so...

BUT let's just say you do get together, the relationship is very smooth at first, but conflict rarely happens since you both just exist in eachother's space for a while, getting used to the arrangement

There would be lots of wordless ways of saying that you care about eachother, acts of service, silent quality time, sometimes physical touch but never PDA, you both don't feel like being all over eachother in public is ever appropriate

conflict would literally just mean that you guys don't talk for an extended period of time and then come back into regular communication when things cool off and both of you can think clearly,

I also see a lot of unspoken insecurity popping up because of this lack of meaningful conversation; both of you will be soooo hellbent on dealing with your own problems yourself that you forget that there's another person waiting just for you <3

BUT BUT BUT the cutest thing is when you do cute stuff without having to ask or without having to say anything

Hair in your face? Jason is grabbing a thick hair tie to tie back your braids

Tight shoulders? Your hands are in his hair the moment you see his shoulder blades roll uncomfortably

Untied shoe? (MY FUCKING FAVOURITE) Jason is pausing his walk and asking to hold your foot between his thighs to tie it for you

Also from a technical standpoint i think both of you find it easier to just do and not talk about it so much because of how emotionally exhausting it is do organize coherent thoughts and have an actual healthy discussion, both when something is wrong and when you just don't feel like talking

I also think that both of you always end up finding your ways back to eachother no matter what, and I think that's beautiful <3

[adddddiiii]

Hi there! Hope all is well. I love your grayson fanfiction. I read you autistic fic...and I was wondering if you could write one on dyslexia. I have it and it was I struggled as a child and one of the reasons i got bullied in school. Hope you have a great day. Thank you!

Fine Print

Author's Note: thanks for requesting!

Contents: Grayson Hawthorne x dyslexic!reader

You had spent most of your life fighting against the words on the page.

Letters flipped, sentences blurred, and no matter how hard you tried, reading had never come easily to you. It was something you learned to work around, a challenge you met with determination, but the struggle had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for someone to notice.

And, unfortunately, people always noticed.

Teachers with exasperated sighs. Peers who turned whispered jokes into outright cruelty. The kind of bullying that made you dread classroom reading assignments, that made your stomach churn whenever someone handed you a textbook and expected you to just read it.

You had learned to hide it well, to adapt, to overcompensate. And it had worked. Mostly.

Then you met Grayson Hawthorne.

Grayson, with his perfectly organized notes and mind like a steel trap, who read faster than anyone you’d ever met. Who could scan through entire legal documents in minutes and recall every single clause. Who made it all look so effortless.

And now, as you sat across from him in the library, staring at the open file between you, you wondered if maybe this had been a mistake.

“You’re quiet,” he noted, watching you over the rim of his coffee cup. “That’s not like you.”

You forced a smirk. “Maybe I just don’t feel like destroying you in an argument today.”

Grayson hummed, unconvinced. “Or maybe,” he said, tapping the page with his pen, “you haven’t actually read the documents yet.”

Your stomach clenched.

Of course he noticed. He always noticed.

You exhaled through your nose, pretending to stretch as you tilted your head toward the file. “I’m getting to it.”

Grayson’s gaze lingered for a second too long before he leaned back, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lips pressed together, and for a moment, you thought he’d let it go. But Grayson Hawthorne was relentless.

“You avoid reading out loud,” he said carefully, like he was laying out evidence in a case. “You never skim through texts the way I do. You don’t write down notes in real-time — you listen, then summarize in your own words later.” He paused. “You memorize everything instead of reading it.”

Your pulse was in your throat. “Grayson-”

“You have dyslexia.”

It wasn’t a question. Your breath hitched, and you hated how exposed you felt.

For years, you had kept this part of yourself hidden, terrified that if people really knew, they would see you the way your classmates once had. As less. As stupid. As not enough.

But Grayson’s expression didn’t hold pity.

He just looked at you like it didn't matter. Like he understood.

You let out a slow breath and your fingers tightened around the edge of your notebook. “Yeah,” you admitted, voice quieter than you wanted it to be. “I do.”

Grayson nodded once, like he had already known, like he had just been waiting for you to say it.

And then, without hesitation, he slid the file toward himself. “Okay.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

He picked up his pen, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook. “You take notes the way you always do. I’ll read to you.”

Your throat tightened. “Grayson, you don’t have to-"

“I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted, leveling you with that infuriatingly steady gaze. “But I want to.”

It was so simple. So casual. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Like your dyslexia weren’t a big deal.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I won’t let you make this a habit.”

Grayson smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Girls when the end of Sketchbook Week fills them with a melancholic yet unimaginable gratefulness and a contradictory nostalgia for the present moment. Girls when the feeling of community that was already there was enhanced by an event and they're emotional over people on their phone

[heliomanteia]

Organizing & contamination OCD Will Solace 🤝🏼 OCPD Annabeth Chase friendship forever in my head.

[palaceoftears]

Magnificent Century Rewatch: One Picspam per Episode

Episode 17: The Double Joy

-My dear mother used to say "walk barefoot on earth and it shall take away all your troubles and sorrows, earth shall give you happiness and joy"

-Your mother spoke well, one can only find peace in earth. But I'm not sure if it is on earth or in it.

[javierduffy]

stuff

[noa-de-cajou]

The following text references religious imagery and abuse.

The unnamed organist belongs to @thal-chandra ;)

----------

When the house gets too loud

And the fists start to fly

I run to church

If I can't find God I’ll find shelter

No one will dare to hurt someone in His house

(I know this isn’t how it works)

(Leave me something to believe in)

Sometimes

When no one else is around

There’s organ music playing

I never see the musician from my hiding place

Too high up

Too far away

I don’t think it’s God though

God is not the musician nor the writer

Nor is he the paper

He’s the one who created the earth on which grows the trees that will be turned into partitions

So whoever is playing must be human

It calms me down, the organ

It covers my battered breath

Makes my heart stop

It’s soothing

Each time I come here I hope I'll be alone

So that they will play

Reminds me that I'm a musician too

Even when the skin of my fingers is all bloody and torn

It’s nice to be reminded of that

Maybe I should bring my flute next time.

(The Heretic)

They found out

They found out about him and me

I was too loud

They asked us to pack our things, anyway

We’re moving, again

Almost shoved us in the car

(A week after Bazyli came to the door)

Didn’t give my leg or my face time to heal

Didn't give me permission to tell anyone

Didn't give me time to go back to church

I wonder if the organ player knew they had a listener

I'll miss that music

It won't miss me.

(The Rapture)

I’m back

Two years later

Same town

Different home

(It’s not home)

I left cardboard boxes and screaming behind

It's still early and dark outside but my feet find the path on their own

The church is still where I left it

It just opened

I step in

And there it is

The organ

My fingers are tickling

But I don't have my flute

It’s at home

I haven’t played in a while now

But I'm a musician always

(Can I really call myself that anymore, I’m not sure)

The music stops

“Is someone there?”

The voice echoes through the church

I run to my old hideout

I hear footsteps down the stairs

(Don’t let them hear you)

There’s someone looking from above, with long hair and gentle eyes

They don't see me

They look relieved, they head back up

The music starts again

(You’re safe)

I might just stay here for a little while

And listen

It’s fine if I can't play

I know the organist’s face now

And they look just like their music.

(The Resurrection)

[function-heartbeat-sync]

finding out theres s group rewriting generator rex is all i ever needed, is there anyway i can join? i am an artist and a writer

its really cool that youre excited about our series enough to want to be a part of it, but im sorry to say that we're not open to new "members", since its not an organized rewrite project.

me and kei have been writing partners for a while, and for the most part its just us doing this. this series has been our baby for the last 6 months and we have a very specific vision for it. we've got the general structure of everything plotted out already, and it just has to be actually written down for it to be finished.

occasionally a couple of our close friends help us with plot problems or specific scenes (we credit them as guest writers), but this isnt a big project with a writers room type discord or anything. its 2 people with a hyperfixation.

we're glad you like what we've got so far, and we hope you like the what's coming up next!

[amelikos]

"Maybe they actually liked their pseudonyms, after all?"