#ignore my pencil betraying me in this one

[dilfluvrr10]

Hello can you write a smut about virgin joost x virgin reader? Thankss

I wrote this pretty quickly so ignore any errors but this one's for all the horny bastards out there. I see you.

Stolen Glances ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

CW: Nsfw, age gap

word count: 2.5k

(I was writing from 1st person than kept randomly switching to 2nd person when I was thinking of Joost's pov, she's a little messy sorry)

My thoughts ran wild as I chewed on the end of my pencil. I was supposed to be revising for my biology exam tomorrow, but how could I when a man as heart throbbing as Joost was sat right in front of me. My father was a well-established manager who had represented the biggest musicians of my time. He had reached out to Joost after his breakthrough single ‘Friesenjung’ and together they had boosted Joost’s international stardom to new levels. My father always had a good eye for talent. They had developed a close bond over the short time they had worked together, my father, a clever and creative man who never stifled Joost’s artistry. Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always been involved in his work, going on tour, tagging along for press and having a string of musicians over at our house constantly. But this was different. Maybe it was just hormones or whatever, a part of growing up, or maybe it was because father was particularly fond of him, or maybe it was the way he always acknowledged me. I don’t know what it was, but he made me feel things I’ve never felt before.

He sat directly in front of me, discussing marketing for his next song, a favourable topic for both Joost and my father. They had been at it for hours, going back and forth intently at our dining room table when I walked in- deciding I wanted to do my work in more ‘natural light’. Of course, I just wanted to be around Joost, his entire demeanour utterly intoxicating to me. I sat at the end of our long dining table, and with my father’s back turned to me, I couldn’t resist stealing glances at Joost every chance I got. In a daze, I admired the way his brows subconsciously furrowed a little in concentration, the way he talked so expressively with his hands. His hands. My mind gradually became clouded with thoughts of his hands roaming my body, what his hands would look like around my neck. I bit down harder on the pencil, almost touching lead. Discreetly, I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together, feining for any pressure down there.

Joost could feel your eyes swallowing him whole. It was nothing new to him now, you always had your beautiful doe eyes plastered to him. He had no problem with the admiration you gave him, he understood your young curiosity. He also understood he could never act on it, could never betray his manager like that. Touching his daughter in all the places she daydreamed about, taking a bit of her sweet innocence away all for himself. No. He’d stay out of your way, be kind to you in other ways, like helping with your school work (even though he was hopeless in his own high school days) and making sure you weren’t too stressed with exams by making you laugh whenever he could. You had been staring at him for quite a while now, you must’ve been particularly horny today, he thought to himself. A slight smirk nipping at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair and adjusted his pants around his crotch knowing you’ll catch it.

I nearly threw up as he moved in his chair, legs spread as he leaned back adjusting his pants. My eyes grew wide with embarrassment when I noticed Joost’s gaze flicker towards me, evident he knew the affect he had on me. In a panic I hurriedly ran to my room. Tears welled in my eyes at the thought of Joost realising how I felt about him, all he’d ever been to me was kind and now he’s going to think of me as some naive girl with a hopeless crush on him. I cried, regret and humiliation in every drop that soaked my pillow. How could I have been so careless with my feelings?

A light knock at my bedroom door had awoken me from my tear-fueled slumber. Vaguely disorientated, I searched around for my phone. The bright, white light illuminated the room: 9:15pm. “Shit” I wasn’t meant to sleep all day. Groggily, I got to my feet and shuffled over to the door, questioning who it might be.

Joost could tell you had been crying, your eyes red-rimmed and still slightly swollen. He hated seeing you like this, “oh, I’m sorry did I wake you?” his voice soft and concerned.

“Joost…no, no it’s fine...everything okay?” the back of my throat burned, and my voice was faintly raspy.

“You left your things on the table, I just thought I’d drop them off before I went to bed,” he handed me my textbook and laptop but lingered in the doorway as if he had something else to say.

“Are you okay? You’ve been in your room since lunch, tell me what’s going on,” Joost always carried a comforting energy, I felt like I could tell him anything. But not this.

“Oh yeah I was up late last night, got really tired I guess,” followed by a small awkward laugh. Joost stood tall in front of me, having to look up to talk to him filled me with dirty thoughts. He wore a white tank, plaid pyjama pants and his night prescription glasses. His hair scruffy, signalling he had already been in bed. I began questioning the intentions of Joost’s visit, did he really just want to return my things? This late at night? No matter how guilty I felt, I couldn’t shake the butterflies growing in my stomach at the tension between us.

He looked down at you, you were avoiding eye contact now, your leg bouncing nervously and your fingers tapping the door where you held it open. Oh how shy he made you, how vulnerable and yielding. He felt bad after what had happened today, he contemplated for hours in bed if he should make it up to you tonight or just let it be. But seeing you now made it an easy choice.

“You know, I really don’t mind” he almost whispered, tilting his head and stepping ever so slightly closer. I glanced up once again, confusion and anticipation coursing through me. “Mind what?” I asked through a clueless façade. He shook his head, slowly stepping forward until he was completely in the confines of my bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. Just me and him. “I see the way you look at me…I’ve seen the way you cross your legs in the process” a wild smile danced over his lips, that’s when I realised this was all wildly funny to him. The entire time I’ve been losing my fucking mind over this man- he had been totally and utterly aware and amused. I scoffed at his upfront words, “God, what are you talking about Joost. You’re crazy, what are you getting at-” I was abruptly cut off by Joost’s huge hands firmly placed on my arms, pushing me back towards my bed.

“Sit.” With your lips still slightly parted with the ghost of whatever bullshit you were carrying on about, you obeyed, looking down into your lap and fidgeting with your fingers. Your surge of false confidence had been his last straw. He was going to give you whatever you wanted, all you had to do was tell him. He traced a tender finger along your jawline, he glimpsed your eyelashes fluttering from his angle, felt your breath hitch. He lifted your chin with his index finger, Those gorgeous eyes shimmering wide with unspoken desire.

Already, I was going to absolutely crumble under Joost’s very minimal touch. His fingers barely grazing my skin were well enough to send shivers cascading down my spine. I was timid and taken aback but at the same time I craved more; I wanted to feel him everywhere. “What were you saying?” he flashed another one of his cheeky grins I loved so much. His sly comment made me laugh this time around, turning the tense atmosphere surprisingly warm. He sat down next to me, causing fleeting touches of our arms and thighs. I was enveloped in his familiar scent, calming my nerves further. He placed a hand on my thigh, his tattooed finger drawing delicate circles as he spoke. “Let me give you what you want” his voice was low and hummed a beautiful harmony. I’d imagined this scenario countless times ever since I first laid eyes on my Joost. He had no idea what I’d let him do to me.

“Just be gentle,” the sweet sound of your consent aroused Joost more than he ever could’ve imagined. He wrapped his other hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in inches from him. With his thumb he caressed your bottom lip, your breathing heavy and erratic against every move he made. “I wouldn’t be anything else for you” he uttered softly, his words dripping with reassurance before grabbing your face and placing a light kiss over your needy lips.

For me, this small kiss was a revelation. The taste of him, the feeling of a mans lips pressed against mine while his hands caressed my body, it was a rush of sensations I’ve never experienced before. He lightly pecked my lips once more before smashing hungrily into me, kissing and sucking. With his hands still cradling my face and his lips still glued to mine he urged me to lay down. I wrapped one arm around his neck, and one hand curled around his bicep beside my head as he ruthlessly attacked my lips a while longer.

Heavenly whimpers escaped both you and Joost, still being cautious not to wake anyone. Pulling away and seeing your lips so swollen and kiss-bitten made Joost so proud.

My body ached for him, “I can’t take much more of this” I whined as he left a trail of kisses down my neck. He lifted my shirt up over my head and continued down my stomach, his hands eagerly grabbing the sides of my waist and tits. He stopped at the edge of my pants, sat up and came to rest his back against the head of the bed. “Come here baby” he softly instructed me while patting the space in between his outstretched legs. He held me steady while I took up position, my close to bare back comfortably leaning into his chest, the difference in size apparent. His arms draped down to my thighs, his fingers never failing to caress every inch. Waves of comfort came with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he lowered his tongue to the nape of my neck, licking a long stripe up to my ear.

“Just relax,” he breathed, making the hairs on my neck stand straight. His hands ventured back to my pants, pulling them off with deliberate slowness, I lifted my hips to help and kicked them off the bed. “You’re so beautiful,” each word warm against my skin. His tantalizing hands resumed their careful journey as the cool air nipped against my newly exposed skin. I sucked in an audible breath as his fingers trailed up my inner thigh, “Is this okay?,” he said pausing just before my underwear to gauge my reaction. A weak nod was all I could muster up, I couldn’t resist slowly rocking my hips back and forth against him from the thrill of his touch. With my eyes closed tight I buried my face into Joost as the pad of his thumb brushed over the delicate fabric along my wet slit.

You squirmed into Joost ceaselessly, as he applied more and more pressure, unknowingly giving him a massage of his own through his pants. Your panties were becoming increasingly more damp, to the point where they clung to you leaving nothing to the imagination. Joost took this as a sign you were ready for more. You hadn’t opened your eyes since he started, your head was turned to the side, buried in his chest resulting in your neck being awfully exposed. A hot half moan escaped your lips in surprise as Joost’s mouth worked skillfully on your sensitive neck, his tongue flicking against your skin before he sucked ravenously, drawing out even more of those sweet, breathless sounds. At the same time he slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your underwear. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders and mouth wide open as he stroked your swollen clit and folds. You were involuntarily trembling and bucking against him as he fingered you to the edge. Every muscle inside your body was quivering aggressively. Deep tremors formed in your core and rippled outward. All composure was gone under his overwhelming touch.

My breaths came in heavy, uneven gasps. My chest rising and falling rapidly. I was completely at his mercy as his fingers worked me closer and closer. Every nerve in my body was aflame, my senses so desperately flooded by the delicious friction and heat of his touch. I was right there, teetering on the edge, ready to dive into the abyss of ecstasy he had created. Then his hands pulled away.

The abrupt halt left me gasping, my body trembling with unfulfilled need and anguish. My eyes flew open to meet his, “Joost, why would you stop?” He ignored my question and kissed me in compensation. “Not yet” was all he gave me. I kissed him open-mouthed and needy, my heart ponded in my chest, tension lingering in my aching body. With our lips still attached I wrapped a hand around the firm forearm draped around my waist and guided him back to down to the hot mess he had left me with. Desire still burning hotter than ever.

“You need me that bad baby,” his accent a seductive melody. “Please,” the desperation in my voice so evident- my cheeks burnt red. He gave no resistance to the tiny hand around his wrist, full of urgency and insistence. This time your eyes never left his, the intensity of longing clear to him. He found his hand back where you needed It most, your hips arched, silently begging for his touch. The moment his fingers made contact once again, a shudder ran through you, a suppressed moan released. “Don’t stop,” you commanded. You had a certain feralness to you the second time around, showing him exactly where and how you wanted him. Never letting go of the tightening grip around his wrist. Your body was pressed tightly into Joost’s, using him shamelessly like a toy. You needed him to finish what he had started, and you weren’t afraid to show him how much you wanted it. The reserved nature he knew you by was overcome by an insatiable desire. He pushed his tattooed fingers deep into your gushing entrance, frantically pumping in and out of you. “Fuckk,” tears spilled down your cheeks as you finally came.

Joost’s touch softened immediately, noticing you were overstimulated. You turned to your side still heightened with emotions and riding out the orgasm. With tender care Joost cradled you in his arms, running his hand through your hair, soothing you through the storm. “You’re okay.”

Nestled into the curve of his arms, you felt a soft blanket envelop you, and with a sigh of content you allowed yourself to surrender to sleep.

----------♡--------------------♡--------------------♡--------------------♡

(And he never even took any cloths off)

Also just realised I never actually stated she was a virgin

[laviefantasie]

[ Starry Eyed Barbie ]

Pairings: Highschool Senior Student! Gojo Satoru x Highschool Senior Student! Reader

Summary: When you are head over heels for Gojo since middle school, he can’t understand why it suddenly bothers him when you start to avoid him.

| Masterlist |

Gojo Satoru had given up a long time ago trying to figure you out.

He rolls his eyes as he feels you squeeze his arm before letting go, as if warning him you’d do so, and raising your hand. The professor gives you the right to answer whatever it is that he asked, making you smile brightly with glimmering eyes as you thrive in the attention given. Staring at the clock he debates whether sleeping is possible, knowing you it was; you had always been a teacher’s pet, tending to ask as many questions as possible before hurrying to discuss every little thought on your pretty head with your teacher.

Maybe he had once thought it was adorable, but then you had started clinging to him and his thoughts had changed.

Sighing, Satoru gives an exasperated look to Suguro before spreading his thighs to lean more in his chair. You haven’t stopped talking. He drums a finger on his desk before glancing at you. You look ecstatic, starry bright eyes shining as you hear every word the teacher is saying. You probably have no idea that you are making the whole class sleepy.

It was annoying. Such a know-it-all.

You nod and smile brightly before thanking your teacher, smoothing your pink leather pencil skirt before sitting back down besides him, making sure to wrap your arm around his again, giggling and blushing as you do so.

“Toru, how does going for some boba later sounds? I heard this new place opened close and I thought you’d probably lo—”

“Can't”

There’s bite in his answer, also a hint of annoyance, but that’s not his problem. You’re not his girlfriend, not even his something, so he sees no need in playing along to your little game.

Your sweet smile remains but the bright light in your eyes dims slightly, before coming back brighter than ever.

"Then, we go tomorrow”

"Oh, look at that! We have a presentation soon” he says, nodding to the teacher.

He was just trying to get you off of him, but it was a cheap trick, especially with how much of a nerd you actually were.

You giggle softly, “No, silly! He was just talking about the Laws of Thermodynamics. You’re not listening again, have you even written any notes?”

Why would he when you never fail to send him your rainbow-colored ones?

He sighs, leaning his face on his hand. He was too tired to deal with you for longer than needed and the day had barely started.

The bell rings and he waits not even a second in getting out of his seat, not caring about the gasp that escapes your lips or the hurriedly way you try to grab your things as you ask him to wait for you.

Suguru analyzes the situation before shaking his head in disappointment once Satoru reaches him. So, instead of letting Satoru keep walking, his hand grabs his backpack string making him halt. Groaning as your arm latches onto his, he realizes his best friend betrayed him by giving you the time you needed to catch up.

Geto deliberately ignores the glare Gojo sends his ways, as you hum contentedly at his side.

You all make it to lunch where Shoko waits for you since you don’t share that class together. Utahime and Mei Mei are at her sides, as well as Nanami and Haibara.

They all smile at you as you invite yourself over to sit at his side.

With an excited smile you get out your pink bento box and matching water bottle. He frowns as he feels you get even closer to him.

“Hey girls! Guys!”, you smile brightly at all of them.

Satoru rolls his eyes at your perkiness, taking a sip of his strawberry Ramune drink. You pout in an adorable before taking it away from him, ignoring the ice cold look he gives you and the silence that surrounds you now.

“Don’t give me that look, this has too much sugar!” his glare deepens making my your shoulders drop, “Look… it’s bad for your health. You drink so many of them, even though you eat a thousand of sweets a day!”

He scoffs making you slightly panic. Playing with your fingers as you feel yourself become anxious; you turn to your bag looking for the Digimon bento box you made for him and the matching bottle.

“Here” you smile brightly “Made you some homemade food… and sweets” you slide the bento towards him, “Some Daifuku… also made you a strawberry and blueberry smoothie…”

He hates that his hands reach to grab both things and how his eyes brighten once he sees the strawberry and chocolate flavored Daifuku you made.

“Oh!” You gasp, looking through your bag until you get another pink container out “I also brought some chocolate chip cookies and strawberries for everyone!”

Haibara cheers while Utahime and Nanami thank you kindly; Shoko and Geto smile at you as a thanks, while Mei Mei settles for winking flirtatiously in your direction.

Satoru, on the other hand, eats the sweets you made him quietly.

“Is it good?”, you ask him eagerly, eyes all bright as your hands fiddle with your hair nervously.

It’s not the first time you bring him food or sweets for the matter, so he doesn’t understand the need to ask his opinion every single time.

He settles with shrugging with indifference.

Suguru hits the back of his head from beside him making him groan, nevertheless he ignores the pointed look he gives him. He’s not in the mood to play your little game.

Instead of deflating as everyone around you expected, you smile softly before grabbing a tissue and softly cleaning his mouth with it, getting rid of the white powder.

You don’t expect the way he smacks your hand out of the way, as he had never once done something like that.

“YOU FUCKI—”

Your hand reaches for Utahime’s as she stands to defend you, smiling sweetly at her to tell her it’s okay.

Satoru frowns slightly as he realizes what he did. He had never done something physical against you, did this mean he was reaching his limit?

Shoko clears her throat, “You guys heard about Sukuna’s party?”

Mei Mei smirks, “Obviously. Heard there’s gonna be good booze. All in?”

“But…” you tilt your head, “Isn’t it today? It’s Thursday” 

Mei Mei smiles sweetly at you, loving your naivety. You eye each of them only to see all of them not really caring about partying on a school night.

Was this what being a senior meant?

“I don’t know, there are a few assignments I have to work on and midterms are happening soon” you hire your lip, turning to Satoru “Are you going?”

He shrugs, “Sukuna’s booze is good, why not?”

You scoff slightly before turning to Nanami, “Are you going too, Kenti?”

The blond teenager sighs, “Lost a bet to Haibara, so yes, sadly”

“How could you not go? Yuri is here representing her school, she’s gonna see us there!” Haibara exclaims with excitement.

You see them all smile at the reminder making you shift uncomfortably in your place. Hinata Yuri was a childhood friend of them. She wasUtahime’s closest friend. They all were inseparable, yo had known that since you had met them during your last year in middle school. Sadly, Yuri had gone to high school in her mother’s district since her parents divorced.

They all had history. One which you weren’t part of.

Playing with your food you consider attending, it felt kind of intrusive considering it was a reunion, but you missed Yuri too.

Satoru knocks your thigh with his, “Pick you up at eight”

You smile brightly, nodding in agreement. Any hesitance in going disappearing as soon as he touched you.

You were so excited, humming to yourself as you ate, that you didn’t notice Utahime’s worried gaze on you nor the way she glared ferociously at Satoru.

Eight rolled around rather quickly and you found yourself sat on Satoru’s black Acura Integra, rich boy privilege. He buckled you in as you were too busy fixing the skirt of your Bellini Bustier pink mini dress that you had paired with a white cardigan.

You start fixing the pink bow that ties your half updo as you thank him, almost choking on your own saliva as you see him.

He looks god made.

His black shirt was illegally stretched across his chest, his pecs shamefully bulging out, his arms immorally straining on the sleeves of his shirt. His grey pants fit perfectly against his muscular thighs and—

Flustered, you look away. It was too much, he was too much.

You play with your hair and nervously move your ballerina flats around during the drive. Trying to hide the way your face became red with each glance you stole.

The party was already at full swing when you both arrived, the blasting music and the many swaying underage teenagers making it a given. The two floored house had its windows flashing in neon lights. The outside was pretty empty, aside from the cars haphazardly parked by irresponsible teenagers and some of those said irresponsible teenagers puking in the bushes.

You scurry next to Satoru the moment you get out of the car, groaning as you try to keep up with his long strides.

He opens the door and heads inside, not noticing the way his strength makes the door close in your face. You push the door for yourself as fast as you can, ignoring the pain in your nose, afraid to lose him in the crowd. Thankfully you manage to grab his arm in time.

He leads you inside and you struggled to avoid being pushed around by sweaty party animals. Maybe you should’ve worn heels instead of flats, maybe then you wouldn’t feel so small.

Finally, you find yourself sitting with the whole group in the terrace. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, you let your shoulder drops in relief.

“You okay, doll?” Yuri smiles kindly at you, hugging you tightly before offering you one of the drinks in her hands.

“Oh! I’m so happy to see you!”, you exclaim, giggling before letting go, “I’m fine. What’s this?”

“Well… if you keep being the innocent cutie you’ve always been, it’s just fruit punch” she smiles brightly with mischief, “Unless you grew some thorns, little rose, and want something to spike it up?”

You laugh while shaking your head, taking a sip after doing so. Yuri had always been kind to you, and seeing her reminded you to the many time she’d make sure you felt at home in the group.

Sadly, you also remember how close Satoru and her used to be once you see him give her a hug and how flustered she becomes.

Oh.

You take another sip of your drink as you try to remind yourself they were just friends. Really close friends. Begging yourself to forget the way Satoru used to have his attention on her every second of the day during middle school, even when you were always there.

No, you were going to have fun and catch up with your friend.

And you did. You weee truly enjoying chatting with everyone and hearing Yuri’s stories. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place when the childhood memories started to surface. You weren’t friends with them during your youth, you had officially joined them at the end of middle school.

You hugged yourself as you listened to them laugh as they recall their shenanigans. It was honestly sweet to watch, yet you couldn’t help to feel slightly bitter. You shake your head to get rid of those feelings.

Sighing, you look at your empty cup. Maybe you should get another drink.

You stare at how crowded the inside of the house is before grabbing Satoru’s sleeve, wanting him to go with you.

“Toru, I need a refill”

He shrugs your arm off, “Then, get a refill”

“Will you come with me?”  

Satoru’s jaw tightens, glancing at Shoko and Geto before harshly turning to you and whispering, “Could you not be annoying for just one second? I’m not your damn babysitter”

Your hand that had been trying to reach for him once again halts, frozen midways before falling to your thigh. You look away as you feel your eyes sting and your nose itch, you were about to cry.

“Fine”, you whisper, head hanging low as you stand up

Satoru resumes his conversation with Yuri, Geto and Shoko. You frown as you see the way he smiles at Yuri, biting your lip as you feel the way your chest clenches.

You turn around, prohibiting yourself from crying in front of them. Satoru already thought you were annoying, you weren’t gonna give him more reasons to think so. You had always known you went to far in the ways you showed your affection, but you just couldn’t help it.

You sigh as you brush the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, slipping your way downstairs.

The party was even more alive than when you had arrived. You see Sukuna in the kitchen drinking a line of shots against Choso, which makes you frown in pity. Silently, you look for a bottle of water before heading out.

You were knocked around as you went, but thankfully you soon managed to get out of the suffocating atmosphere.  

The night breeze softly kisses your skin making you shiver, yet you smiled softly as you take a deep breath. You stare at the starry night, loving the way the stars shine brightly against the darkness that surrounds them.

Sighing, you let yourself sit on the stairs of the porch, taking a drink of your water as you keep on staring at the night sky. Your chest ached.

“Party became too much for you?”

You gasp, startled.

Smiling slightly at your reaction, Nanami sits beside you, “Sorry if I startled you”

“Uh… it’s okay” you stutter, “I’m good, just… wanted to cool down. I was planning to go back”

“Sure about that?” He asks knowingly, making your shoulder drop, “It’s a nice night”

You smile, hugging yourself, “It is”

“You like the stars?”

You nod, “Used to watch them with my dad when I was young. That one…” you point at the brightest one, “is called Sirius, like the character from the Harry Potter books. It’s part of the Canis Major constellation, its name means glowing”

“You seem to know a lot. It’s impressive” he nods softly, “What other stars make up Canis Major?”

“Muliphein, Mirzam, Wezen, Aludra, Adhara and Furud” you point at each one as you named them, “it’s special because it has many bright stars, as well as Sirius, the brightest”

“Wow”

Your smile falters as you hear something break inside, reminding you where you are. Nanami notices making him sigh before pushing himself to stand up.

“How do you feel about going for a drive?”

You look at the water bottle in your hands, tightening your grip on it before standing up with determination.

“I think that sounds like a great idea”

He offers a hand and you take it. His Range Rover comes to view and he hurries to open the door for you. You halt in surprise before smiling softly.

“What?”, he raises a brow.

You shake your head, giggling softly, “Nothings. It’s just, you’re really a gentleman”

“This is the bare minimum”, he states, “You shouldn’t expect less”

Your smile falters, but he doesn’t mention it.

Nanami drove around while you told him every little fact about the stars that came to mind. His interest in it as he asked questions made you get more excited with time, making you rambled nonstop.

You were really having fun.

It was on the way back to the party that you realized that if you went back your mood would turn sour, so you kindle asked him to drive you back home if it wasn’t too much trouble. He kindly agreed.

You smiled at Nanami once you got out his car, “Thank you, Kento, really. I had fun”

“I had fun too, Y/N. Thanks for the Star facts”

He waited until you got inside your house before leaving, making you smile softly to yourself feeling your heart warm because of his sweet nature.

You take off your shoes and quietly go to your room, taking off your clothes before going to your private bathroom and jumping in the shower to quickly clean yourself. Once you are dressed in your silk pink pajamas, you grab your phone from your purse and connect it to the charger.

Turning around to lay down, you halt as you hear your phone ring to announce a text.

Toru <3: Where are you?

Y/N: Home.

Toru <3: What?

Toru <3: Who drove you?

Toru <3: You should’ve told me if you wanted to leave.

Y/N: Didn’t wanna annoy you.

Toru <3: You can’t leave without saying something.

Toru <3: You have to let me know.

You frown. You dont know if it was the emotional or the physical exhaustion, but you found yourself punching letter by letter of the message, not second guessing before sending it.

You don’t even bother checking if he texts back, locking your phone before throwing yourself on your bed.

Y/N: You’re not my boyfriend, I don’t have to do anything.

Satoru frowns as he stares at the text you just sent him, writing and deleting as he tries to decide what to text back. But end up with his mind totally blank.

You were right. He wasn’t your boyfriend, you didn’t have to tell him if you wanted to leave or give him an explanation for the matter.

So, why was he feeling so… weird?

He scoffs. He didn’t need to dwell on it too much c tomorrow everything would go back to the way things were.

Except they didn’t. You weren’t in his usual parking space when he arrived. He frowned, looking around, before shrugging. You must have fallen asleep, you weren’t used to going out on weekdays after all.

He nods at Geto and Shoko once he gets to his first period, letting himself fall in between them.

“Where’s Y/N?” Shoko asks, looking at the door expecting your smiling face.

“Late” he shrugs.

Nanami and Haibara join them as soon as the words leave Satoru’s lips, making a small smile grow on Nanami’s face.

“Sure about that?”

Satoru frowns, but it is Geto who asks, “What you mean?”

Nanami shrugs, serious face back on as he starts getting his books out.

But Satoru didn’t appreciate his secrecy. He had been kept in the dark by you last night, he wasn’t in the mood for that anymore.

And then it clicked.

“You were the one who drove her home, am I wrong?” Gojo asks Nanami, almost accusingly.

Nanami raises a brow, “And if I did?”

Satoru rolled his eyes but he stayed quiet.

Shoko and Geto share a look before glancing at Gojo. But Satoru had never been easy to read, always nonchalant and charismatic, never wavering. So it was a shock when they both realize the way his jaw tighten slightly before letting go.

Interesting, they thought.

You had been nowhere to be found by lunch, but Nanami had appeared with your usual pink container full with treats, smirking as he stared you sent them.

Suguru and Shoko had been eyeing Satoru warily as he seemed a second away from snapping with each second that passed. He kept bouncing his leg, without pausing, and clenching and unclenching his hand and jaw.

Everyone at the table remained silent as Haibara’s old words of reassurance of you probably being sick were squashed by Nanami’s appearance.

“Why isn’t Y/N here?” Shoko decides to ask.

Nanami grabs one of the brownies you made them this time, “She said she was gonna eat with the girls in her baking club. Was waiting near my locker with the treats”

Satoru’s hand clenches tightly. You had look for Nanami, but hadn’t even bothered to text him?

He hated this.

He hated more not knowing exactly why he hated it so much.

He saw you in Chemistry, but you didn’t cling to him as you used to. You only smiled at him from your sit beside his before burying yourself in your book. Asking questions and sneering them as usual. Taking colorful notes as usual.

But, not even glancing at him as usual.

What was going on?

He took a deep breath. It was Friday, he wouldn’t even remember this bitter taste during the weekend, which would make him go back to normal by the start of next week.

It’d be fine.

Except that by next Wednesday, he couldn’t handle it anymore. He had spent the whole weekend staring at his phone waiting for one of your texts reminding him to eat well or one scolding him to do his school work; he’d even accept one of your random visits to bring him a sweet you’d bake.

And it had already been three days since the week started and you kept ignoring him. Even when you decided to have lunch with them, you sat beside Utahime now.

His personalized Digimon bento box made by you had disappeared and only the container with sweets for everyone remained.

It was… upsetting.

He felt his chest ache and a sting in his eyes the more he thought about it. What had happened? What was going on with him? Why couldn’t he stop shaking his leg? Why did he kept glancing at the door for pastel colors when Nanami had told them you weren’t eating with them today.

“Satoru”, Geto calls him softly, “You okay?”

No. He wasn’t okay.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Shoko and Geto share a look, before the brunette sighs in defeat, “Hey, Nanami”

The blond one stops conversing with Haibara to listen to her.

“Did you see Y/N today?”

Nanami frowns, “Yeah… she said she wasn’t coming to lunch”

Shoko rolls her eyes before pointedly nodding towards Satoru’s lost gaze in his food and relentless fidgeting.

Nanami sighs, “She mentioned how she wanted to try the new vintage Library-Café near campus for lunch”

His legs stops moving, his jaw and hands unclench just as his foot shifts. Yet Satoru remains sitting.

Geto smiles faintly, before rising from his place nonchalantly, “I gotta go review for Calculus, midterms are soon after all”

Haibara’s eyes widen, “Oh, crap! I don’t understand a thing”

Nanami sighs, standing up as well, “Then, we’ll be joining you, Geto”

Suguro nods before guiding both boys out of the cafeteria with him.

“I need a smoke break”, Shoko whispers before leaving.

Utahime crosses her arms in defiance, understanding what all her other friends were doing but refusing to participate in it.

Mei Mei, though, was finding the situation really amusing.

“Let’s go shopping, ‘Hime”

“HUH?!”

Utahime is dragged by Mei Mei as she relentlessly voices how they can’t go shopping when they still have classes.

Satoru wasn’t stupid. He knew what they were doing, but he couldn’t find it in himself to truly care. Not when his body basically jump out of his seat as soon as Mei Mei and Utahime disappeared from view. Feeling ridiculous as he ran outside.

You thanks the waitress as she leaves the tray on your table. You smiled contently at the view. A Matcha Frappuccino, a blueberry cheesecake, and the new book you had just bought.

It was truly a sight for sore eyes.

You grabbed the fork quickly before taking a piece out of your cheesecake, hurrying to try it.

You moan in pleasure at the flavor, closing your eyes as you do so. You definitely needed to try to bake this one, it was true perfection. Not too bitter, but not too sweet, just right on the spot.

“That good?”

You squeaked in surprise, which Satoru found extremely endearing.

Grabbing the tissue and cleaning your mouth, you frown as your eyes meet his celestial blue ones.

“What are you doing here?”  

“Am I not allowed to come here?”  

You shake your head and scoff before lowering your gaze to your hands, playing with the rings on your fingers.

He never accepted to try any of these spots with you, so why would he come to them?

“You hate places like this” you mutter, “You never seemed to stop reminding me how dull they are, nor how annoying it is to have to sit in a place as you try not to bother others”

“Never said any of those things” he squints his eyes as if trying to remember, “Doesn’t ring a bell”

“I doubt you came for the books, who why are you here, Satoru?”

That stings.

And maybe is that pain that makes him sit right in front of you with the most sincere look in his face you’d ever seen.

“Not for the books, you’re right”, he taps his finger nervously on the table, “I actually came for the starry eyed Barbie”

You stare at him, dumbfounded, feeling your face slowly heat up before shaking your head.

“Why would you come for someone that’s always annoying you?”

He flinches at the reminder of his last words to you, “I… I didn’t meant that”

You scoff, “Yeah, right. I’m not blind, I know I annoy you. Which is why I don’t understand why when I finally leave you along, you decide to bother me”

His gaze moves to his fingers.

Silence.

Your appetite is now gone, so you grab your book and your bag before standing up. You give one step before being stopped by his hand on your wrist.

“I-i’m s-sorry” he softly stated, head lowered, “I didn’t mean it. I really I’m s-sorry, I just—I’m an idiot. I didn’t know what it was like—how it’d feel—I hate it… please, just—I’m sorry…”

You hug him, hating how his breathing grows in speed and how he starts to stutter as he tries to explain everything.

It wasn’t perfect, things weren’t just magically okay, but it was the right track.

That’s how next week on Wednesday during lunch, when raising their heads to say hi as they heard Satoru’s loud voice saluting them, Shoko and Geto freeze midway, before smiling, at the sight.

Because fire the first time ever, instead of them seeing you clinging onto Satoru’s arm desperately, he had it wrapped around your waist lovingly.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 10

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Author Note: So... I wrote the story outline until the ending. I didn't expect the story to turn dark. Prepare yourself.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

Bucky awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. “Well, my mom is quite… eccentric.”

Even her own son admitted that Lydia was quite eccentric. She certainly acted like a woman from a wealthy family. She had also caused quite an uproar in town when people saw the wedding invitation that stated her husband would take her last name instead of the other way around.

In a small town, that decision was unique and controversial. Many husbands had their opinions, but no one dared to say it directly to Lydia. Everyone was somewhat afraid of her.

There was a rumor that the marriage wouldn't last long because it was one-sided love. But it's an old rumor.

“If her stares could kill, I’d be dead by now. I don't know what I did to make her hate me,” you muttered.

Bucky hesitated before speaking. “It's…”

“You know the reason?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

He walked closer to you, making you step back a bit. “If we become besties, I’ll tell you.”

'Best friends with you? Hell no!' You gave him a fake smile. “No, thank you.” Then you turned and left, determined to keep your distance from him.

“I knew you’d say that.” He pointed at you while chuckling. Then he whispered, “But why does it still hurt?”

🎨

While you were shopping at the grocery store, minding your own business in the sauce section, you heard a familiar voice, “I'm sorry.”

You pushed your shopping cart and saw a man kneeling down, picking up cans of beer from the ground. It looked like he had knocked over a beer display. From his hair and the pencil behind his ear, it was easy to figure out that it was Steve.

He looked as awkward as he had back in high school. Nobody helped him. You could have chosen to ignore him, but damn, your heart was getting soft.

Steve quickly picked up the beers, sensing someone was beside him. He assumed it was a store employee. “Sorry, I made more work for you.”

“You need to pay for all of this beer,” you said.

Steve realized it was you and looked up, surprised. “Could you pay it for me? I don’t have the money,” he said jokingly.

You rolled your eyes and picked up the last can of beer, fixing the display.

“Phew… I couldn’t have done it without you,” Steve said, relieved.

“Hmm,” you replied. Then you noticed the amount of beer in his shopping cart. “Having a house party?”

He looked back at his shopping cart. “Nah, just for me.”

“All of that…?” you murmured. Then you looked at his face. He tried to smile, but he looked sad, like you could see a dark cloud and rain pouring over him.

Steve sighed. “Hey, do you have some spare time?”

“Sure,” you replied.

Both of you finished shopping and then found a nearby café, settling into a quiet corner. Steve fidgeted with his phone, avoiding eye contact.

“The art school already replied,” he said, his voice tinged with disappointment. “They told me my portfolio doesn’t fit their criteria.” He looked dejected, his shoulders slumping as he spoke.

“Let me see the portfolio,” you said, reaching out your hand.

Steve hesitated for a moment before pulling out his phone and showing you the pictures of his artwork. You took the phone, studying each piece carefully. As you scrolled through his work, you noticed the intricate details and the passion evident in every stroke.

Steve watched your face anxiously, trying to read your expression. His hands fidgeted on the table, betraying his nervousness.

“This is impressive,” you said, looking up at him with genuine admiration. “Coming from someone who frequently visits modern art museums, I can tell you these pieces are outstanding.”

Steve’s eyes lit up slightly, a flicker of hope returning. “Really? You think so?”

“That art school must be insane to reject this kind of art,” you affirmed.

You picked up your phone and called an art gallery owner who was one of your clients. After a brief conversation, the owner expressed interest in Steve’s work and wanted to meet him.

Steve looked astonished. “That was quick.”

“When you have status and connections, you can achieve a lot,” you said, putting your phone back in your pocket.

“Noted. Thanks,” Steve replied, his gratitude evident.

“In just a brief meeting, you’ve changed my life. You’re more thoughtful than anyone else I’ve ever met,” Steve said, his voice sincere.

You gave a small nod, internally wondering why you had helped him. Was it an act of charity?

Not really. Perhaps deep down, you felt that Steve reminded you of your old self. If you had never met Ransom, who opened your mind, you wouldn’t have known the real world outside of this town.

You weren’t close with Steve, but you had some similarities with him. Both of you were raised by single fathers. However, the difference was Steve’s father loved him, while your father, Tom, was an absent father.

Steve’s father loved him too much, not wanting to be separated from him. Mr. Rogers became paranoid after his wife died.

To summarize, Steve lived pretty much in a cage.

“It’s not free, though. I’ll charge you later after you sell your artwork,” you said, half-smiling.

Steve smirked. “I agree.”

🏎️

A few days later, on the weekend, you decided to drive around and find an automobile repair shop. The air conditioning in your dad's car wasn't working, and although Tom didn't seem bothered by it, you were. So, you took it upon yourself to get it fixed.

After driving around town, you finally found a repair shop. You got out of the car and went to the front desk, where a woman appeared to be engrossed in her phone and clearly bothered by the presence of a customer.

You knocked on the table to get her attention.

“I need to change the air filter for my air con,” you said.

“Wait in line,” she replied without looking up.

You looked around and saw there was no one else there. Was this really how they treated their customers?

You sighed inwardly. “Just give me the air con filter.”

Her eyes remained locked on her phone as she reached out and grabbed a box, handing it to you.

You clicked your tongue and handed her the money. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

Just as you were about to leave, the back door opened, and someone tall and imposing walked in. Instantly, your instincts kicked in, making you feel on guard.

Unexpectedly, you came face to face with one of Bucky's group, the biggest of them all. Thor. Like his namesake, he stood tall like a Greek god.

The cashier, who had previously ignored you, quickly brushed her hair and looked at Thor with puppy eyes.

Thor didn't even glance at her; his attention was on you. “No kidding. You’re back,” he said.

You gave a small nod. Back then, both of you were not friends. Thor was the loudest to laugh when you were made fun of. Standing tall like a tower, he was always the first to tell Bucky and their group when you were near.

He was known around town as a future NASCAR driver. Although you weren’t interested in car racing, a small part of you was curious whether Thor had made it to NASCAR or not. Maybe you’d ask Steve later.

“Something wrong with your old man’s car?” Thor asked with a smile.

You showed him the box you bought. “Just needed some spares.”

Thor stepped closer, his presence looming. “Need any help with that?”

You hesitated, feeling the awkward tension in the air. “I think I can manage.”

He chuckled, an awkward sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always were stubborn.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “And you were always…persistent.”

The cashier was still eyeing Thor, trying to catch his attention, but he seemed oblivious to her attempts. The silence grew uncomfortable, the memories of high school taunts and laughs hanging between you.

“Well, if you change your mind,” Thor said, gesturing to the repair bay, “I’m around.”

You nodded, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you walked back to the car, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of discomfort and nostalgia. Thor’s presence brought back memories you’d rather forget, but it also reminded you of how far you’d come.

You got into the car, placed the filter on the passenger seat, and drove off, the encounter replaying in your mind. Some things never change, but you have. And that was enough.

🚗

You drove home quickly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as you pulled into the driveway. Finally safe at home, you were drenched in sweat from the broken air conditioning. “Shit. This damn air-con,” you muttered, frustrated. Why hadn’t your dad used the money you sent to buy a new car?

Determined to fix it yourself, you looked up a YouTube tutorial on how to change the air filter in a car. Despite the step-by-step guide, you were still confused, struggling to follow along.

You heard a familiar voice behind you as you fumbled with the instructions. “What 'cha doing?”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. “Changing the air filter,” you replied, exasperated.

He heard the voice from the YouTube video. “Do you know how to do it?” Bucky asked.

“...No,” you admitted reluctantly.

“Let me help you. It’s really easy,” he said confidently.

“If you say so,” you sighed, stepping aside to let him work.

Bucky changed the air filter quickly and efficiently, his movements smooth and practiced.

"So, you went to Thor's shop?" Bucky asked while fixing it.

"How did you know?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. You also found out that shop belongs to Thor.

"From the filter box," Bucky said with a grin. "Nah… just kidding. He called me."

"Yeah, I went there," you admitted.

"Did he make you uncomfortable?" Bucky's tone grew more serious.

"The same as our first meeting," you said bluntly, not sugarcoating your words.

"Ouch," Bucky said, pretending to be hurt, clutching his chest dramatically.

"Well… it's done," he said, stepping back and wiping his hands.

You looked at the air filter, noting how easily Bucky had changed it. He was right—it was simple once you knew what to do. You turned on the car and felt the welcome rush of cold air. It was a relief after driving around in the heat.

"Thanks," you said, genuinely appreciative.

"That's what friends are for," Bucky replied with a teasing smile.

Giving him a fake smile, you shook your head, your expression firm. "We. Will. Never. Be. Friends."

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, a hint of a smile still playing on his lips. "We'll see about that," he said, walking away to help your father like usual.

You watched him go, shaking your head in disbelief. What made him think you would ever want to be friends after everything that had happened?

Author Note: I imagine this is the fake smile she gives Bucky whenever she talks to him. 😂

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[amalythea]

HIII ITS ME AGAIN MWAUAHHAHAHA

kaeya with prompts “stop moving, i'm almost done!” + “don't smile at me like that!”? maybe we're doing his makeup or something I'm a sucker for that

do your best to make me hate him too pls (I have faith that you will succeed, as always)

「 make-up 」

⤷ info: kaeya x gn!reader || fluff || wc: 450

⤷ warnings: kaeya teases reader, who is sitting on his lap

⤷ extra: HI HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG

“Stop moving, I’m almost done!” you huffed, the eyeliner pencil in your hand trembling slightly as Kaeya shifted beneath you.

He rested one arm lazily on the back of the chair, the other settling comfortably on your waist. His signature smirk tugged at his lips, and the glint in his eye betrayed his mischief. “I can’t help it when you’re sitting on my lap, darling. It’s hard to focus on anything else.”

You gave him a pointed look, leaning in closer to steady your hand. “Kaeya, if you don’t stay still, this will end in disaster, and I’m not fixing it.”

“Disaster?” he echoed, feigning offense. “You wound me. I trust your skills implicitly.”

Your sigh was sharp but fond, the warmth of his breath brushing your neck making it harder to concentrate. You steadied the pencil once more, your knees bracketing his hips as you tried to ignore the soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

That chuckle turned into a full laugh when he caught sight of your determined expression. He grinned up at you, his single visible eye full of mirth.

And then, he smiled. That slow, lazy smile—the one that made your pulse quicken and your thoughts stutter.

“Don’t smile at me like that!” you snapped, your voice catching slightly as you pulled back to glare at him.

“Like what?” he asked, tilting his head, the very picture of innocence. Except for the hand on your waist, which tightened ever so slightly, pulling you an inch closer.

“Like you’re up to something,” you muttered, your cheeks warming. “And stop moving. I mean it this time.”

Kaeya sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Fine, fine. I’m at your mercy.” He glanced up at you through his lashes. “Though, I must say, you look cute when you’re flustered.”

“Kaeya!”

He laughed again, the deep, velvety sound reverberating through you. But, to your surprise, he actually stayed still this time, letting you finish your work without further interruptions.

When you leaned back to inspect your handiwork, Kaeya shifted to catch a glimpse in the mirror. “Impressive,” he mused, dragging a finger along the edge of the eyeliner. “But do I look this good because of you, or do I naturally radiate charm?”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re lucky I like you.”

He grinned, his hands sliding to your waist as he held you firmly in place. “Lucky, am I? No, my dear, I’d say I’m blessed.”

Before you could protest, he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The smirk that followed was insufferable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind—not when it was Kaeya.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[satori-runa]

—Love is only an hypothesis

Prologue: Only an hour per day

Summary: Viktor gets visited by an psychology student with an daring proposal he tries to ignore.

Masterlist | Next

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Viktor was the embodiment of ambition—a man who would go to any length to achieve his goals, driven by an insatiable thirst for progress. Heimerdinger never failed to sing his praises, extolling his assistant as if he were a saint. The professor spoke of Viktor as a beacon of inspiration, an example for aspiring students, including you, to emulate. A simple man from Zaun, rising to become one of Piltover’s brightest minds—it was a tale Heimerdinger seemed determined to hammer into anyone who would listen.

Perhaps it was this very brilliance that made Viktor the perfect target for you.

The scientist froze as the air shifted around him, a prickle at the nape of his neck alerting him to your sudden presence. He hadn’t heard the door creak open, nor the sound of your footsteps, nor even the measured tone with which you called his name. Yet, the moment you entered the room, Viktor felt you— an sudden intruder that smashed his focus in pieces.

“Mister Viktor.” Your voice was smooth, polite, the faintest smile tugging at your lips as you clutched a stack of papers and folders tightly to your chest. The gesture seemed innocent enough, but Viktor’s sharp gaze caught the hunger behind your façade. It wasn’t interest that filled your eyes—it was greed. He didn’t miss the subtle cues your body betrayed, the ones that screamed louder than words ever could. The way your knuckles turned white as you clutched the papers against your chest, as though they were the only thing tethering you to composure. The faint, restless twitch of your foot, as if grounding yourself in the moment might somehow steel your resolve. Viktor’s sharp gaze took it all in, dissecting each movement with clinical precision.

He knew people like you—driven, calculating, and desperate enough to mask their intentions beneath a veneer of politeness. And he couldn’t say he liked those people. After all, none of these ever respected him as a person.

The man turned slightly, his unease masked by a calm exterior. “Pardon me, but I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” he murmured, sparing you only a glance before returning to the runes scattered before him. He doesn't need your name to know that you are probably just wasting his time. Jayce is the social butterfly of this lab, why would Viktor step up to that position himself now? His fingers twitched, tracing invisible patterns in the air. Something was missing—a piece of the puzzle that eluded him, leaving his work at a frustrating standstill. Your presence only worsened the irritation.

“And,” he added, voice cool, “I don’t believe barging into someone’s lab is appropriate behavior.” He was still polite too, mirroring you, but with a sharper edge to his tone.

“Ah, forgive me, Mister Viktor,” you replied, your tone bright with feigned enthusiasm. “Professor Heimerdinger suggested you might assist me with my work.” Your words were honeyed, rolling from your tongue with practiced ease. But to Viktor, they grated—an unwelcome distraction wrapped in false cheer.

He frowned slightly but composed himself, the tension in the room thickening as he weighed your intentions. “Eh, did he now?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, the edge of suspicion unmistakable.

“Indeed, he did,” you replied, your smile unwavering, even as you felt the weight of Viktor’s disinterest pressing against you like a cold wall. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before continuing. “I’m a psychology student working on a long-term social experiment for one of my classes. My hypothesis explores the moment when strangers stop being strangers—when potential feelings start forming in the human mind. For that, I need a partner. A stranger. Someone with a disciplined mind and a unique perspective—someone like you, Mister Viktor.”

Viktor’s pencil halted mid-sketch, the graphite tip hovering just above the parchment. His hand lingered there, frozen in place. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, his sharp, calculating eyes narrowing slightly as he processed your words. “A social experiment,” he said, his tone flat and unyielding. He tilted his head ever so slightly, as though examining an odd specimen. “And you think I am… suitable for this?” A hint of genuine surprise sneaked into his tone but left as quickly as it came.

“Yes,” you answered firmly, gripping the papers in your hands just a little tighter. Your knuckles whitened under the strain, but you pushed through the nerves. “Your reputation speaks for itself. I know you’re logical, methodical, and—above all—dedicated to understanding things on a deeper level. That’s exactly the kind of person I need.”

You were, in truth, reciting a version of Professor Heimerdinger’s high praise for Viktor, hoping to appeal to the man’s intellect—or perhaps his pride. Flattery, you believed, had a way of softening even the toughest exterior. Surely Viktor wouldn’t be an exception.

But he was.

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. His brown hair caught the faint glow of the lab’s overhead lights as he regarded you with a faint smirk. “And you think compliments will convince me?” His words carried an edge, a sharpness that made you wince inwardly. He looked through you. “Miss…?”

You stammered, quickly offering your name, your voice faltering for just a moment.

He repeated your name on his lips, his tone clipped and formal, “I have no interest in your experiment.” He leaned forward slightly, tapping the edge of the parchment with his pencil. “My work on the HexTech requires my full attention. I see little value in spending time on something so… trivial as a study in a field that I'm not part of.” His gaze flicked back to his work, as though you had already ceased to exist.

“But—”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone more suited to your needs,” he interrupted without looking up. “Perhaps Jayce. He seems far more… enthusiastic about social endeavors.”

Your jaw tightened. You fought the urge to snap back, forcing yourself to breathe through the frustration bubbling in your chest. Your project was already dangerously behind schedule, and Viktor was the only person who could add real credibility to your research. Without him, you might have to resort to asking random strangers on the street.

“I didn’t come here lightly, Mister Viktor,” you said, keeping your voice steady, though your hands trembled slightly. You took a hesitant step closer, holding out your papers as if offering him a tangible piece of your determination. “I believe you could bring something to this experiment that no one else could.”

Viktor’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t even glance at the papers you were holding. “And yet,” he said simply, “I am declining.” His words were calm, almost dismissive, as though this conversation was little more than a fleeting distraction.

Your shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of rejection settling over you like a heavy cloak. Still, you forced a polite smile, taking a step back toward the door. “I understand,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “But, if you ever reconsider, the offer will remain open.”

As you turned to leave, your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, silently hoping he might change his mind. After all, having Viktor’s name on your project would make it shine in ways no one else’s could.

He didn’t respond. His attention was already back on the intricate sketches spread across his desk, his pencil moving once more with smooth, calculated strokes.

You stepped out of the lab, the door closing quietly behind you. For a moment, you stood there in the dim hallway, staring at the floor as frustration and determination wrestled within you. Finally, you straightened your back and clenched your fists.

This wasn’t over. Viktor may have dismissed you now, but you weren’t about to give up so easily.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The following day, Viktor was hunched over his workbench, the glow of his lamp illuminating the scattered blueprints and prototypes littering his desk. The rhythmic scratching of his pencil filled the quiet lab as he worked tirelessly, his mind consumed by equations and mechanical schematics.

A soft, deliberate knock on the lab door broke his concentration. Viktor frowned, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. “Enter,” he called, his tone distracted as his focus remained on the half-drawn sketch before him.

The door creaked open, and the familiar sound of measured footsteps echoed in the room. “Ah, Viktor, my boy!” Professor Heimerdinger’s cheerful voice broke the quiet like a beam of sunlight through a clouded sky. Viktor sighed inwardly, already sensing where this was going.

“Professor,” Viktor greeted politely without looking up, his pencil resuming its careful work. “What brings you here? I am quite occupied at the moment.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that,” Heimerdinger replied, his bushy eyebrows twitching as he surveyed the cluttered workspace. He was used to Viktors behaviour by now. “But even the most brilliant minds need a break now and then.” He hopped onto a nearby stool, his small stature barely bringing him to Viktor’s eye level.

“I do not have time for breaks,” Viktor said curtly, turning the page of his notebook. “There is much to be done, and no one else will do it.”

“Ah, but that is precisely why I am here!” Heimerdinger clapped his hands together, his bright eyes sparkling. “You see, a fellow professor approached me with a rather fascinating project yesterday. A psychology experiment, no less!”

Viktor’s pencil froze for a moment, though he didn’t look up. “I am aware,” he said, his voice neutral. “Their student came to me with her request.”

“And?” Heimerdinger leaned forward, his ears twitching with curiosity.

“I declined,” Viktor replied simply. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “It is not my area of expertise, nor does it hold any relevance to my work.”

Heimerdinger’s expression softened, and he stroked his long mustache thoughtfully. “Ah, Viktor, always so focused, so disciplined. But sometimes, the most unexpected endeavors can lead to the greatest discoveries.”

“I fail to see how studying the emotional whims of strangers would contribute to the advancement of technology,” Viktor said, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone.

The professor chuckled warmly. “Perhaps not directly, but there is value in understanding people, Viktor. After all, technology is meant to serve humanity, is it not? To improve their lives?”

Viktor’s gaze flicked to Heimerdinger, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “I serve humanity by solving practical problems, not by indulging in frivolous studies.”

Heimerdinger tilted his head, undeterred by Viktor’s resistance. “And yet, this project may provide you with a fresh perspective—one that could inspire new ideas, new solutions. Sometimes, stepping away from our usual pursuits is exactly what we need to move forward.”

Viktor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Professor, I respect your wisdom, but I have no interest in this.”

Heimerdinger hopped off the stool, his expression thoughtful. “Perhaps not now, but I do hope you’ll reconsider. This student is quite determined—and determination, my dear boy, can be a powerful thing. She sees something in you that perhaps you cannot see in yourself.”

Viktor said nothing, his eyes drifting back to his sketches.

With a knowing smile, Heimerdinger began to make his way toward the door. “I’ll leave you to think about it. But don’t forget, Viktor—even the sharpest tools need sharpening from time to time.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Viktor sat in silence, staring at the half-finished design on his desk. His mind wandered back to the previous day, to your determined expression and the way your voice had wavered, just slightly, as you tried to convince him.

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. He had work to do.

But no matter how hard he tried to focus, your words lingered, an unwelcome echo in the quiet of his lab.

The lab grew quieter as the hours stretched on. The faint hum of machines and the occasional scrape of pencil against paper were Viktor’s only companions. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to drown himself in his work, his thoughts kept returning to the professor’s visit—and to you.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. The pencil in his hand spun idly between his fingers, his mind no longer on the schematics before him.

“Even the sharpest tools need sharpening.”

Heimerdinger’s words echoed in his mind, irritatingly persistent. Viktor frowned, his sharp gaze drifting to the blueprints spread across his desk. Technology, innovation, progress—these were his domains. He had little patience for the unpredictability of human emotions or the nuances of social interaction. And yet...

He set the pencil down with a sigh, the sound of it rolling across the desk breaking the silence. He hated to admit it, but perhaps Heimerdinger had a point. If understanding people could somehow refine his work, perhaps there was merit in stepping outside his comfort zone.

The thought lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next afternoon, campus life was in full swing. Students hurried between classes, their conversations blending into a low, bustling hum. The crisp breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass, and sunlight dappled the stone pathways.

You were sitting on a bench outside the psychology building, reviewing your notes with a furrowed brow. The project was progressing slower than you’d hoped, and Viktor’s rejection had left you scrambling for alternatives.

“Miss.”

The familiar voice made you freeze. You looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you saw Viktor standing a few feet away. He looked slightly out of place amidst the bustling campus, his posture as bad as ever, the way he clinged onto his cane. He wore a neutral expression, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“Mister Viktor?” you asked, your voice laced with surprise. You quickly stood, clutching your notebook to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I have reconsidered your proposal,” he said, his tone calm and measured. His hands rested behind his back, and his gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and assessing. “Your professor and Heimerdinger believe this experiment could be of… benefit, and I find the reasoning difficult to ignore.”

Your eyes widened, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process his words. “You mean—you’re agreeing to help me?”

“For the time being,” Viktor replied, tilting his head slightly. “But I have conditions.”

“Of course! Anything,” you said quickly, nodding fervently.

“I expect structure,” he said. “A clear outline of objectives, timelines, and goals perhaps. If this experiment is to occupy my time, it must be efficient and purposeful.”

“Absolutely,” you said, your excitement bubbling over. “I’ve already prepared a detailed plan—I can show you right now!”

Viktor held up a hand, silencing you with a slight gesture. “Tomorrow,” he said firmly. “I will meet you here, and we will review it then.”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

He gave a curt nod and turned to leave, his brown hair swaying lightly in the breeze as he walked away.

“Miss.” He called you once more.

“One hour per day, that is the time I can offer you.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, a grin spread across your face. You couldn’t believe it—Viktor had actually agreed.

Little did you know, Viktor’s agreement was not purely out of interest in your experiment. There was a part of him, buried beneath the layers of logic and discipline, that was curious—curious about how this unpredictable detour might shape his understanding, of both people and himself.

[sethcertified]

「 SCREAM FOR YOU ! 」 . . . 📂 EPILOGUE

scream: billy loomis & stu macher

w.c: 2.1k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . Waking up from a coma, the events that followed the Macher house massacre are revealed to you by a familiar face. Except, they’re not how the story actually went…

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . billy loomis, stu macher, & male reader

My name is [Name] Riley.

I am 17 years old.

I am sitting in a hospital bed.

I miss my bed.

My butt hurts.

I miss my home.

...

I miss my sister.

I shook my head as I threw down the pencil onto my lap with a frustrated sigh. My fingers ached from the force I held the pencil with while writing in my newly appointed journal. Mr. Ryder, the psychiatrist that had been appointed to me, had given me the journal to document my mental state since the massacre at the Macher party as I way to make sure I was doing okay, yet it felt more like torture than a way to check up on how I was feeling mentally.

The only relief it gave me was a false sense of company. I hadn't spoken to anyone since I had been put into this room except the nurses that came and went, my doctor, and my psychiatrist. I ignored the outside world's efforts to get me to face the people I had betrayed despite the knocks on my door and the letters slipped into my room. It was lonely, no doubt, but I was too much of a coward to face the reality of what I had done.

What they had done.

The blood on their hands. The blood on mine. It stained. Stained my mind with guilt of what I had done; the path I had chosen. 10 people had died that night, and I could've prevented all 10 of them if I hadn't been so caught up in my own feelings.

In the end, I prevented one. One death. Yet the guilt didn't diminish in the slightest. The blood didn't wash away. Everything remained the same. Everyone remained dead. Except me.

I had hoped I would die that night whether it was on the floor or on that stretcher, but fate had refused to show me pity. Fate decided I needed to be punished for what I had done by keeping me alive. But that wasn't punishment enough; fate felt the need to punish me even more. Fate had kept them alive as well.

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher were alive and all because of me. I had saved them from death that night but sacrificed some of the people I loved the most. It was a fair price to pay for my actions, but I didn't realize that the transaction would actually happen. That they would actually be dead. Even as I thought that, my brain couldn't process the fact that they were dead. That they were all dead.

Tatum was dead.

Dewey was dead.

Randy was dead.

Gale was dead.

Dead, dead, dead, and more dead.

I coughed awkwardly as I averted my attention away  from the journal and my depressing mindset to the hoard of pity gifts resting around my room. They had been gifted to me from all sorts of people; relatives, friends, even people I had never even talked to. I hadn't bothered reading a single one. They saw me as a hero. A survivor. I couldn't face them knowing that I was anything but those things.

The bright pop of colors of the gifts contrasting against the plain, white walls of my bleak hospital room was distraction enough from my thoughts, but just staring at the huge array of them made my mind reel in guilt. With a sigh, I leaned my head back against the plush pillow, shutting my eyes. Sleep called out my name begging for me to relax into the bed just as it had been It was routine at this point. Ever since I arrived here, sleep was all I seemed to do. After all, it was the only distraction from my horrid thoughts.

As my mind began to turn off, a knock at the door resonated from the far corner of my room, but I payed no mind. Knocks were frequent and expected at this point. As I learned from experience, they usually leave after about a minute or two of knocking, so I expected the same routine to follow. At least until the knocking persisted for minutes on end after the first knock. My brows flexed in annoyance as my patience drew thin. "Can't you give a guy some peace?" I yelled out.

A muffled voice yelled back out to me in response, "[Name]? It's me, Sidney! Please open the door." My eyes shot wide open as I tumbled out of the hospital bed, rushing to open the door. I hadn't heard from Sidney since I instructed her to fake her death many weeks ago. While one of the nurses had told me Sidney visited while I was stuck in my coma when I first barely woke up with a teasing, "Your girlfriend came around. She was so worried! How cute! Yada yada," but refused to tell me anything I actually yearned to know about her visit.

I had been hoping she would come back to see my now that I wasn't unconscious, so to hear her voice from the other side of the door was liberating. Exciting, even. I launched the door open to see to Sidney standing there, "Sid-"

"[Name]."

"You're alive," I gasped with relief. Sidney Prescott was alive. My grand scheme had succeeded. I wrapped my arms around Sid's waist as I pulled her into a hug; her head fell into the crook of my neck, mumbling, "I thought you died."

"I thought you died," I said. Sidney chuckled weakly as she pulled away, yet still keeping her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes shown under the fluorescent light with a hopeful gleam. "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked, genuinely confused. I had done nothing, in my opinion, that was deserving of a thank you from anyone, Sidney especially. I wasn't aware of how far back her knowledge of what actually went down was, but I didn't think twice about underestimating her. For all I could know, she knew everything that I had done alongside Billy and Stu.

"For saving my life?" Sidney joked but her tone held sincerity underneath the layer of sarcasm. My confused expression slipped away into something morbid as guilt overcame me once more. Although, in truth, I did save Sidney's life; it didn't feel right for her to thank me. I had betrayed her trust, friendship, etc under the guise of my "investigation." I had went behind her back about Cotton Weary, got together with her boyfriend who happened to be the actual criminal behind her mother's brutal murder, killed her father, and helped the same murders with their plan to kill her.

I brushed her hands off my shoulders as I headed back to my bed. How could I face her knowing she thought of me so sincerely? I sat on the edge of my bed with my head resting on my palms. My eyes stared holes into the white tile of the ground. The sound of shoes tapping against the floor made me shut my eyes. Sidney was heading my way without a doubt, and I dreaded every click of her shoe against the time.

The clacking stopped as the spot next to me was occupied by Sidney, "Are you okay?" I nodded weakly as I turned to her. I couldn't let my emotions get in the way; something I learned the hard way. "How are you here, Sid? Doesn't everyone think you're dead? And what about Billy and Stu? If they know you're alive, they'll come after you." My voice was urgent and a tad bit frantic. These were questions I had been asking myself ever since that nurse told me Sidney came by, and I truly did need them answered.

"They really haven't told you anything?" Sidney asked with shock laced in her tone. My brows furrowed as I thought back to the authority figures that had been taking care of me. Was there really something they've been hiding from me that was so important? Is that why the nurse refused to tell me anything about Sid's initial visit? "What do you mean?"

Sidney grasped my hand in hers. Her eyes were scanning my face, making my stomach churn with anxiety. She was looking for something. I didn't know what it was nor if she would find it. Hell, I didn't even know what "it" was. Sid's eyes shone with pity, "Everyone knows I'm alive, [Name]. They know about you saving me too."

"What?!" I asked as my chest began to swell with anxieties. What happened while I was in my coma? What happened to Billy and Stu? I gasped for air as my head raced, "How?"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Sidney rested her other hand on the back of my shoulder, trying to keep me steady. "Let me explain." I nodded as I took some breaths. I wasn't going to get anywhere by having a panic attack.

"I did as you said and hid away. I was heading to sneak into the police car when I saw your mom by the garage." My eyes widened at that. My mom had came? But my shock quickly washed away into despair as I remembered she probably saw Tatum's blood staining the garage door. I wasn't sure if Sidney sensed my sadness, but if she did she payed no mind. "She was upset- but she was just asking if you were safe. I told her about your plan, and she took me home with her."

I nodded, eager to hear the rest of what she had to say. Sidney took my nod with a stride as she continued, "We all thought you were dead. Week after week, the doctor would say the same thing, so your mom wanted to ensure you and Dewey and Tatum and everyone else got the justice they deserved. She got this lawyer and was determined to arrest Billy and Stu after I had told her everything that they had done."

My fingers twitched against my leg as I froze. Billy and Stu hadn't visited me once... Was this the reason why? Were they seriously locked away while I was in this coma? But those questions only led to one; one question I couldn't wrap my head around. Why would they keep my innocence intact?

Love? No way.

"Did they?" I asked. Sidney nodded as she wrapped her arms around me. "We don't have to worry about them, anymore. They can't terrorize us nor our families anymore." I smiled as she wiped the leaking tears out of her eyes. It was a fake smile. My mind was elsewhere, and I could not be happy for either of us in the moment.

Sidney sensed that and backed away from me. Her eyes scanned my face before she stood up. "It's a lot to digest, so I'll give you some space. See ya later, [Name]." I waved bye at her as she excited the hospital room, but my happy facade was gone as soon as her presence was out the door.

Billy and Stu were arrested? And I'm now a hero? What? I felt the migraine take over my body as I bit my lip. What had happened? My thought process was interrupting once more as a knock came from the door. I rolled my eyes. "Come in!" I yelled. Yet no one did. My brows furrowed as a small slip of presumed paper slid out from under the door.

I stood up from the bed to observe the small, folded piece of paper. Bending down, I grasped the paper gently before unfolding it. The words on the paper made me freeze and my blood go cold.

I know what you did.

✎ notes . . . So many people were asking for it, so I finished off the epilogue that had just been collecting dust in my drafts 😭 but this does kinda make it OFFICIAL that scream for you isn't over although I gave up on it. It's gonna be awhile before the sequel is out and I'm focused on other projects rn as well as my requests on my tumblr. That being said, I have a discord server! Pls join its very empty rn and there's definitely some of u who I think r rlly cool and would like to know better!

https://discord.gg/f8YBEjzz

Thank you for all the love even tho this book sucks. It's crazy to see how big it has gotten and 500 followers!! I'm gonna shed a tear. Thank you for all the comments, I adore every single one. Thank you for the notes. And thank you for enjoying my work.

©️ sethcertified 2023 10.5

[earthtooz]

WELL, SINCE YOU DONT MIND~

a scenario in which reader gets writers block and xiao appears and xiao professes his undying love for us and we kiss him and hold hands and share almond tofu under the stars and we get married is a very cute idea and 10/10 plot. definitely the best idea to ever be thought of

FLUFF, xiao being xiao, reader is poet, i've never played genshin ever, i got spammed with this so much that i decided to give up and give in. @sixosix, for you, my little sibling xx

"what are you doing here? it's late." 

the sudden voice shocks you from the leather-bound notebook that you were previously writing in, so caught off guard by the intrusion that your pencil slips from your grasp, falling through the cracks of wangshu inn’s balcony. you’re about to curse out your own inability when a sudden gust of wind swirls around you, followed by a flash of blue. 

then, a pencil is outstretched towards you- your pencil, in xiao’s hand. 

“thank you,” you murmur, stunned. 

“like i said, what are you doing here?” the adeptus repeats, demanding for an answer.

retracting your legs that were previously dangling over the edge and closing your notebook with a defeated slam, he notices the look of defeat that graces your expression as you look out at the horizon.

“i’m trying to find inspiration for a new poem,” you murmur. “although i wasn’t very successful, i thought coming up the wangshu inn might have inspired me. sorry for overstepping on your turf.”

glancing up and meeting his golden eyes, you ignore the heavy pounding of your heart and pressurising of your blood rate; two feats that only xiao was able to accomplish. 

unlike your internal meltdown, his hardened expression doesn’t change with your complaints, in fact, xiao doesn’t even acknowledge them, heartlessly brushing over your predicament. “you shouldn’t be out here for much longer though, once it’s night the plagues will be out, and it’ll be dangerous.”

“i know, i know. no need to remind me.”

a beat of silence passes. you don’t make a move to get up. xiao doesn’t make a move to kick you out. instead, he takes a seat beside you, keeping his distance. “i didn’t know you write,” he mutters, the slight tilt in his voice betraying the disinterest he previously showed towards your predicament.

momentarily surprised by his curiosity, you nervously fiddle with the binder of your book. “oh, it’s just for fun,” you murmur, glancing away. “something i do to take my mind off of things.” 

he doesn’t say anything in response, the flicking of delicate paper pages fill the atmosphere instead. you wish you could peer into his mind to see what he is thinking so that you could have the easy conversations that you share with other people. however, for xiao, the only thing to discuss is nothing.

glancing aside, the unfinished almond tofu that you bought from the merchants sit beside you. as much as you’d like to finish the delicacy, your constant frustration with your inability to conjure up words diminished your appetite. there is one solution, but you feel a little foolish asking, “would you like some almond tofu?” to the blue-haired beside you sits up a little.

“i shouldn’t,” he mutters dejectedly when looking at the platter you pass to him. “you have it.”

“i can’t finish it, that’s why i offered. why don’t you help me out by finishing it for me?” you slide it across to him. 

with obvious hesitance, he complies. you look away when he takes a bite, the sight too oddly intimate and rare for some poet like you. how rewarding it is to do something for someone like xiao.

it’s silent once again as you both watch the setting sun, the colours melting into one another whilst dusk’s purple dominates and claims its turn in the sky. it takes the first star to appear before you mention leaving, especially now that the cicin’s are beginning to emerge, but more importantly, you’re surprised that xiao hasn’t told you off.

declaring your departure, xiao mimics you and stands up, tightly holding onto his spear.

“i’ll walk you home.”

“no- it’s okay!” you squeak, surprised by his decision. his golden eyes flicker to you, almost in warning that you shouldn’t argue back because he’s already made up his mind. “i shouldn’t bother you from your duties. thank you though-”

“-you don’t live far. it won’t be too inconvenient. besides, walking you home and fighting off potential demons is still doing my job.” he walks away, but not before turning over his shoulder to reassure that “i’ll protect you.”

he leads you down the inn and walks in front of you whilst leading you home, outstretching a hand in front of you whenever he thinks you might need his assistance down particular staircases or hills. you know you shouldn’t touch him, but the urge is there, and incredibly overwhelming, especially with each subtle flex of his muscles that are illuminated by the moonlight.

(you wonder if he does this with anyone else. judging by the rumours and talk that surround him, his apathy, and uptight front, you wouldn’t think so, yet here you are, being protecting by the legendary and fleeting xiao.)

the night is disturbingly silent, as if the archons had decreed that no inconvenience shall bother the two of you in this moment, but the peace is far from unwelcomed.

when your home appears in your view, you turn to face him with a reluctant smile, a little sad to leave, but very grateful for his time nonetheless.

“thank you for walking me home, xiao. i really appreciate it,” you mutter into the quiet night. 

“don’t thank me. if you ever need me, just call my name and i’ll be there,” he promises. you don’t even get to say anything in response before he puts on his mask and teleports away, all done in the blink of an eye and leaving your mind in a hurricane of questions you want answered.

for a second, you wonder if he was ever there, but the fading blue particles tell you that he indeed was.

shutting your door with a quiet click, you sigh out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding before scrambling to your kitchen table, frantically opening your book to whatever blank page you could find. 

‘i’ll protect you’. 

you definitely need to take your mind off this evening. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[satureja13]

And while Saiwa, Jack and Ji Ho stay at home, Jeb, Kiyoshi and Vlad went to the Temple to help Arturo. All of them silently agree it's best to keep Kiyoshi away from Jack until he healed. It's a long way to go for Jack. Even though he says he's fine. We all know he isn't. It would even be better if they parted ways. But Other Jeb's message makes this impossible. No one wants to take the risk of some of them getting hurt - let alone be killed.

Vlad joined Team Kiyoshi. Jack is Vlad's best friend and this wasn't an easy decision to make for Vlad - but he and Kiyoshi grew very close at Belgraves Institute. They shared a room and ran their penalty laps at the sports ground. They slept next to Jack's pod when he was in his coma. And in the end Kiyoshi had to betray Vlad to the Council to maintain Kiyoshi's camouflage.

Vlad knows that Ji Ho and Saiwa take good care of Jack and that Kiyoshi is having a hard time now since he became a diety, had been banned from Kojin's Temple and lost Jack. And no one, except for Jeb, knows how to deal with him after they learned that Kiyoshi was Jack's Alpha and fated mate and kind of co-responsible for Jack's misery. And that Kiyoshi had been sent by his father to the Lab to torture captured Jack and Saiwa. And rescued them in the end. It hadn't been easy for Kiyoshi either with all his duties for the temple, the resistance and the council. He didn't hurt Jack on purpose. They just didn't know better and couldn't act better. He can't be mad at Kiyoshi. Maybe it was because they were too young and unexperienced or it just wasn't meant to be - yet. Fate doesn't make mistakes and Vlad is determined to help both of them.

Kiyoshi cared for the saplings of his Tree. And when he touched the little one Jack had lit with some kind of magic, it hit him like a bolt - again. This is a sign. Kiyoshi is sure. As a werewolf, Jack isn't capable of doing such magic. This has to mean something. Jack is his fated mate. Kiyoshi will give Jack all the time he needs to heal - but he will never give up on him. He tried it - for decades while he'd been in the tree - futile.

Mood is gloomy and everyone was working in silence lost in their own thoughts. Vlad thought he could try Jack's puppy strategy to light up the mood a bit. So he started to tell some funny stories of the times they hadn't been all together. Vlad: "... and when Jeb and Ji Ho had already left to do their school project at Mount Komorebi, Jack insisted to put me on my gloves! I had been blind then, but I still was capable to put on my gloves. And then I made fun of him because he wore a fur jacket! A werewolf in a fur jacket! And then Kiyoshi said: 'I like fur'. Somehow I knew that something was going on between you two." Jeb was cutting the planks, had the pencil between his teeth and chuckled. He repeated 'I like fur' because he thought it was so cute and funny of Kiyoshi. But since he had the pencil between his teeth, it was gibberish.

Arturo froze: "What did you just say?"

Jeb, gibberish: "I like fur?"

Arturo: "Gods - it sounds like the last words from the Master! 'I like bird'!"

Jeb: "I think everything sounds the same when you have a pencil in your mouth while speaking ^^'" Arturo: "True hahaha." Little Goat: 'Hello?!'' omg...

After their work at the Temple, they sat down to eat. Arturo: "Vlad, why don't you take a plate and give it a try?" Vlad: "Ah, I'm sorry but I'm a vampire and can't digest food. I get sick if I do and live off of plasma packs and fruit."

Arturo: "I aware of that - but I also feel your strong craving for food. Other vampires just ignore it." Vlad: "Oh I'd been able to ignore it all my live - until... I drank Ji Ho's blood... and when I came back from hell after I died, I started to smell the incredible odors and had a hard time not giving in and try some ever since."

Arturo: "A lot of things changed after you drank mermaid's blood, hm? Why not you digesting food? Give it a try." Vlad: "Uhm - ok..." It smelled so amazing, Vlad thought it was worth getting sick.

And this is how Vlad tried his first food!

And it seems he likes it!

Oh my Arturo was right - Vlad yould have eaten food since he bit Ji Ho September 2022! And even though he knew he'd changed a lot and craved for it, he never tried - because he was afraid and convinced it would make him sick. This sounds trivial but made him think a lot. What else could he have experienced since then and never tried? And how much has Ji Ho changed him? But before he could follow his thoughts any further, it hit him! Hot hot HOT!!! Arturo: "Maybe Burmesan Samosa Soup wasn't a good choice for your first meal ^^'"

But it was. Vlad will never forget this - his first meal. And it will remind him to be bolder and try new things and not hide behind his fears! (Hear, Hear!)

After lunch Arturo went for a walk with them. He has an idea wow they can make up with the others.

And after a hard day's work, they gathered at the fire. Arturo was pondering all afternoon about 'I like bird' and 'I like fur'... (Try it yourself, it really sounds the same!) Arturo: "Kiyoshi - who did you think about before you became one with the tree?" Kiyoshi: "Jack. I've never been able to forget him. Even when I felt nothing else anymore, I still felt him."

Arturo: "I have a weird inkling: maybe your last words weren't 'I like Bird' but 'I like Fur'? Because Jack is a werewolf? Or you thought of that experience with the fur jacket?" Jeb: "When Kiyoshi thought of Jack and not of Saiwa before he left and Saiwa isn't his fated mate but Jack... Gods - I urged Sai into this fake relationship with Kiyoshi to bring him back because we thought Kiyoshi's last thoughts were about Sai... Saiwa will kill us all." (Omg... ö.Ö') And there's no way not to tell him because they all agreed to be honest to each other...

'I know your eyes in the morning sun I feel you touch me in the pouring rain And the moment that you wander far from me I wanna feel you in my arms again And you come to me on a summer breeze Keep me warm in your love, then you softly leave And it's me you need to show

How deep is your love? I really mean to learn 'Cause we're living in a world of fools Breaking us down when they all should let us be We belong to you and me

I believe in you You know the door to my very soul You're the light in my deepest, darkest hour You're my savior when I fall And you may not think I care for you When you know down inside that I really do And it's me you need to show'

How deep is your love? - The Bee Gees

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🛺 'Home happy Home' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[yannar]

study sessions

robin arellano (tbp) x reader

note: this is my first oneshot post, don't make fun of me! lol!

one day, the student council decided to think it was a good idea to start a peer tutor program to help other students that were struggling with certain subjects. so you decided to join, (for the extra credit heh) and got assigned to a student that was struggling with math: robin arellano.

you knew him, he was kinda popular— well, because he was known for being "most toughest kid in school" well, second most, aside from vance hopper of course.

math class had just ended, and your next period was study hall—tutoring time. robin was packing up his things, ready to leave, when decided to talk to him.

robin was packing up his things, and you caught the briefest flicker of irritation cross his face when he glanced in your direction. he knew. of course, he knew.

as he headed toward the door, you stepped forward, calling out before you could second-guess yourself.

"hey, robin arellano, right?"

he stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face you. his eyes locked on yours, and you swore the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

"yeah,"

he said, his tone flat but laced with something sharp.

"i‘m your tutor,"

you said, keeping your voice steady, though your heart was racing.

robin scoffed, the sound low and rough, as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"yeah, I figured. they don’t exactly keep this stuff a secret."

he wasn’t making this easy, but then again, you hadn’t expected him to.

"so...should we get started?"

you asked, gesturing toward an empty table near the back of the room.

for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. finally, he shrugged.

"lead the way."

it wasn’t much of an invitation, but you took it. as you both sat down, you caught a few curious glances from other students, but you tried to ignore them. robin, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care.

"so, how bad we talking?" you asked.

robin leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"bad enough," he said.

you snickered, pulling out your messy notebook and pencil case.

"alright, bad enough doesn’t scare me. let’s see what we’re working with."

as you flipped through your notebook, robin leaned closer, his arm brushing yours lightly.

"you call this organized?"

he asked, gesturing to your notes with a raised eyebrow.

"hey, don’t judge. it works for me,"

you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully, cheekily smiling.

"if you say so,"

he said, leaning back again, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than you expected.

"alright, let’s start with the basics,"

you said, scribbling a quick problem on a scrap of paper and sliding it toward him.

"show me how you’d solve this."

robin stared at the problem, his lips pressing into a thin line. after a moment, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"uh...I don’t even know where to start."

you smiled softly.

"that’s fine. we’ll go step by step. here—watch."

you leaned closer to explain, your shoulder brushing against his. you were so focused on the problem that you didn’t notice how quiet he’d gotten until you looked up and saw him watching you.

"what?" you asked, blinking.

robin quickly looked away, scratching the back of his neck.

"nothing. just...you’re kinda good at this," he mumbled.

you rolled your eyes playfully, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"tsk, I told you to watch me solve the problem, not my face."

robin scoffed lightly, but before he could respond, you added with a teasing grin,

"i know i’m pretty, but your grades are way more important, yeah?"

he blinked at you, momentarily stunned, before a quiet laugh escaped him. "you’re ridiculous," he muttered, shaking his head, but the faint smile on his face betrayed him.

as the session went on, robin started to relax. he even cracked a few jokes that made you laugh, and every time he got an answer right, he’d glance at you for approval, almost like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

by the end of the period, you were both packing up when he reached over and grabbed one of your pens that had rolled off the desk.

"here,"

he said, holding it out.

"thanks,"

you said, taking it from him, your fingers brushing briefly.

robin hesitated, then smirked.

"don’t lose it. you’re gonna need it for our next session."

you raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips.

"confident we’ll survive another one, huh?"

"maybe," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"you’re not half bad, Y/N."

it wasn’t much, but the way he said it made your chest feel just a little lighter. as he walked out, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. maybe this tutoring thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[riddledwithrats]

True Justice

Edward Nashton/The Riddler Character Study

Summary: Edward loses himself in thought

Words: 772

A/n: this is my first time writing eddie so i hope this isn’t absolute shit lol, i’ve seen a lot of different ways people characterize him and the little quirks they give him and i kind of combine some of them in my head. and that’s what he’s like to me lol so sorry if it seems ooc or anything like that

The fluorescent bulb of the dusty diner buzzes overhead, it crackles and flickers. Edwards eyes are well adjusted to the inconsistency, he’s grown accustomed to the dishonesty of Gotham. Not one thing in this city can be trusted, it's infested with its own greed and corruption. His deep green eyes scan over the dirty countertop, his gaze landing on the man beside him and his newspaper. Renewal, it reads.

This city has been preaching “Renewal” ever since he was a kid. A kid sat on a moldy mattress in the endless confines of Gothams resident orphanage. He can still smell the rats, the disease, coursing its way through the crumbling building. All with the ever-looming promise of RENEWAL, watching him and laughing.

What has this city renewed? The growing bank accounts of its most wealthy? Not one cent has ever gone to that orphanage. Not even after he set it ablaze. It was such an insignificant loss that the GCPD didn't even garner it an investigation. Edward takes a deep breath. He can't let himself lose it in front of the minimal amount of people in this hole-in-the-wall diner. He must keep his composure, his facade, if his plan for true renewal is to go the way he wants it to. He grows giddy just at the thought of the water washing away this stain of a city, he’ll be doing Gotham a service. The only way to save this city is to start from the ground up.

What if it doesn't deserve saving? A clawing voice says in the back of his head. “Of course it deserves saving,” Edward replies under his breath. He thinks of the countless people who —just like him— have been wronged, betrayed, and ignored. They deserve a new life, one of true promise. One of honesty, and acceptance. A life in which they can prosper. The only way Gotham can ever offer this, is by creating a new Gotham. An honest Gotham.

Gotham and its rotten underbelly should drown with it. The voice cackles and Edward shakes his head to rid himself of the horrid sound. No, no, no. He MUST stop the lies. The only way to rid this city of corruption is to wipe it out entirely… And if a few innocent lives are lost in the process, then such is life. Edward grips the pencil in his hand. Oh, yes, that's right. He had been doing a crossword puzzle. He looks down at the paper underneath his quivering, shaking hands. When had he started sweating?

The filled in spaces read: Infested. To calm himself, he reads the word over and over. Wracking his brain for words that rhyme, something he taught himself in the orphanage to drown out the cries of the other children. Arrested, invested, protested. He looks around the diner for more words. Buy our new Apple Pie! A red sign on the window says. Buy, he thinks, Buy, Guy, Sky, Try, High, Cry, Why, Die, Die, Die, Die, Die, Die…

A loud horn honks outside and Edward is whipped back into reality. He's clutching the little, paper crossword book in his hands so tightly he can feel it slicing paper cuts into his palms. He looks around and notices the TV hanging in the corner of the diner. A breaking news bulletin flashes across the screen. Mayor Found Slaughtered In Home. Edward tries to hide his joy as he watches in anticipation, watches as his plan is set in motion as the seedy patrons of the diner rustle and perk up at the news.

He watches in delight as their eyes grow wide as saucers and they begin to stand and leave the establishment hurriedly. Desperate to get home, desperate for some semblance of safety in this cesspool of a city. There is no safety here, not with the cruel and unjust running amuck with wads of cash in their hands.

If there’s one thing Edward can agree with the Batman on, it’s that this city is in need of true and proper Justice. And while the Bat distracts himself with petty crime, Edward feels a smile creep across his face, The Riddler will begin a crusade against the TRUE criminals. Gothams very own, high and mighty, the ELITE. The corrupt, the LIERS, THE RATS!

The diner is empty and Edward is shaking from the force of the truth running through him. Every forged line, every check sent to yet another millionaire, none of it will ever get past him. He knows what they did and he will bring TRUE JUSTICE to Gotham.

Starting with the city's beloved, deceiving Mayor.

[fansblogarchive]

Shattering My Expectations (again, word limit)

That Lightbulb just can’t be stopped, can she? She never fails to… well, fail. I counted today as the sixth time Lightbulb has shattered, the sixth part in an incessant pattern that you just can’t help but marvel at! Because, well, what else can you do? Look down on her for being careless? Heh. Just sit back and enjoy the proceedings! Now I know what you’re thinking. Fan, this is great and all, but what of the other five times Lightbulb has broken into pieces? Surely these groundbreaking moments cannot be ignored! Oh, you are quite right about that! For here I shall list off every occasion so far in which our irreplaceably light-headed light bulb friend has cracked us up! And no… I’m not referring to her sense of humor. At least, I think she’s purposely making all of those jokes. She’s trying to be funny, clearl- eh, let’s just move on. 1. Penciled In – A Lightbulb shatter was never expected or planned on any schedule. Why? It is because it had never occurred before, that is, until this fateful day. Now, as a writer myself, I know the pains of writer’s block. But I’m sure it doesn’t hurt as much as a pencil straight to the face! That’s gonna leave a mark that you can’t erase… Yet how would this landmark event be followed up? In a way only Lightbulb could! 2. Not a One-Shot Wonder After All – That last one may have been the first time we saw Lightbulb break, but unlike many musical sensations that have graced our radio stations, she came back with a vengeance. Several vengeances, actually! As for this one, it’s a classic comedic fall over a rock, and it’s during a challenge. Lightbulb’s shattering became one pattern, and her… memorable performance during Season 1 team challenges became another. She always knew just how to mishandle a group effort- I mean- well, um. She’s just perfect, okay? She has her own standard that she’s measured by. She’s Lightbulb. 3. The Episode 5.5 Scene-Stealer – Oh, Lightbulb certainly had a small amount of screentime in this already bite-sized minisode, but she makes the most of it by sticking her landing squarely between a captive Paper and Baseball! Forget Baseball’s book about where life itself comes from! I want to know where irreplaceable diving champions like Lightbulb come from! That way… I can stay away. This is reckless behavior, honestly. Who would bring up their kid like that? 4. Into Thin Air – I just don’t know how she does it. Seriously, upon her rejoining, Lightbulb miraculously fades into existence, betraying any semblance of gravity until she promptly decides to hit the ground. I’ve watched this countless times, and I still wouldn’t be able to explain it. It honestly makes no sense. Then again, neither does Lightbulb. But hey, at least she’s not like certain other individuals that happen to be on my team. I’m willing to brush off that issue, though! Brush. Off. Brush… next time, okay? You’ll understand soon enough. 5. Dropped out of the Game – Now don’t let this heading fool you. Lightbulb would never drop out of II. She’s too stubbornly unaware to ever consider that! You just got to love her, for even when she’s eliminated from the show, she still goes out with a bang, or perhaps more like a “keilkeicccc”! It’s difficult to describe. 6. Holiday Trip – One of my Internet friends said it best – Christmas ain’t Christmas until someone gets severely injured. It’s a very special time of the year, and you can just count on there being some sort of complication. It’s one thing when you receive a present you don’t want, but it’s another when you stumble over a rock and hurt yourself as you land upon a blanket of fresh, white snow. It’s like becoming incapacitated on a puffy cloud, it stirs feelings in you that… I don’t understand and quite frankly make me feel a little too aware of myself and immensely uncomfortable because of it. Let’s get off this subject! 7. Support Me – Just as Lightbulb was about to give Paintbrush some help- Wait just a moment! This is number 7! I stated on INANIMATE INSANITY, a show I dearly observe and respect, that this was the SIXTH time Lightbulb had

[magicalgirloffduty]

how do I want the world to see me, and does it match how I see myself?

I want to be hardworking, and although I feel that on the inside I don't feel it shows outwardly, which is something I'm working on...but I think that comes with patience with myself.

how do I show up for others, and how do they show up for me?

I show up for others when I can, at my best I do it emotionally, but at my worst it is physically. I think others show up for me in the same capacity because I hate to ask others for what I cannot return, so in a sense...they show up best in the ways I don't ask?? Haha.

what about my life feels like love and what doesn't?

Love in my life feels like being known and heard. It's the little things. Gifts from conversations just on the edge of recent memory... and understanding even when there is no agreement. Respect... that is a given and not just coming from comparison.

where does my time go, and where do I wish it would go?

My time goes to my writing and my art where I love, whether in my notebook or my laptop. I like it less on my phone, but at emotional lows you can find me there. I wish it would go more to my sense of adventure outside, during the winter I lose that a lot lol!

who do I admire most, and what about them speaks to my soul?

Sometimes? My past self. Who I am during the spring, where I roam around town and take myself on little adventures and dates. Who I am when I'm happy and my mind is a reinforcement of my childhood whimsy and the strength I called upon to defend me. Often, it's my friends who are intelligent, well-spoken people who are well-educated and incredibly kind. Keen to others. I wish I had a better discerning eye, a better sense for lies or malicious intent.

is the way I live aligned with the life I dream of, or am I just coasting?

I think, I am twenty-five percent there and that is the closest I can be for now...so I'm happy with it. If I'm in the same place next year, then I would be sad.

what qualities in others feel the most magnetic to me? Do I reflect those?

Money, power and respect! Along with the emotional intelligence (and the morals to use it wisely.).

I think that I'm working toward it well enough, to earn a place in that space. I hope that by following my own morals and being true to what I believe earns respect. I hope that my education will give me the power to earn money to sustain myself and support myself, so that when I use my power I can do it without risking the people I love or betraying myself.

what’s inside my bag, and what does it say about me? (be honest, even the gum wrappers count.)

My iPad and my keyboard because I'd rather die than not have the chance to write or sketch. My notebook because putting pen to paper is s much better than the Apple Pencil (although typing is faster and easier for my poor hands.). Bandaids for my clumsy ass. Lotion because I'm black <3. A book usually for art studying, japanese... or writing inspo.

if I could script my perfect morning, how would it begin?

I start by taking a big gulp of cold water until I feel like a person again, and then follow it up with a BIG stretch. I don't check my phone and get sucked into texting for an unholy amount of time... and hopefully then I slip out of bed to sit in front of my desk and check my tasks for the day preparing to get some work done with hopefully a plan to eat something light for breakfast....even if eating kind of sucks sometimes.

what passions have I ignored that I would like to reclaim?

Wig styling, lol. I can live with it, but sometimes I think of all the better I'd be if I just... did a liiiiiitttle more. Playing with my kitties more, they deserve some fun.

What’s one small, powerful shift I could make today to move toward my dream life?

Go to bed at a nice time don't force myself to stay up for more entertainment. I wish it was easier to fall asleep on time, clear my head and have nothing I felt I missed out on before I was bed locked. Post this, make use of the blog I'm so excited to use but keep saving for 'the right time.'

write a tender letter to the future version of yourself. What do you hope they’ve become, and what do you want them to remember about now?

Hello future me,

I care about you, I hope you know that. I know you do somewhere in there. I'm doing my best not to fall back on my Vulcan habits and just answer the prompt, looking to please the judges in my mind <3. I hope you've met your academic goals and have some sort of proof to yourself that you've really changed, because that is what that means to you, isn't it? We get a sense of catharsis from this shift in ourselves, even if I worry about when there is less change... I hope we are still confident. Even if things don't go toward our best case, we know who we are (pretty dang resilient, cycle breakers.).

I hope you've finally got past that part in the fanfic that we're super exciting to write, and we have something new and exciting to look forward too, perhaps even a surprise favorite we didn't expect. Most importantly, I hope we get a break from those zombie dreams, I'm not sure how many more outbreaks we can survive!

Oh my gosh? I hope we've made more friends in our area, we don't have to just take ourselves out on fun little adventures, but we have some people to do karaoke with and study with at cute little cafés and update on our art accounts and make fun videos with. I hope we have more to add to our essay, finally post to our YouTube and make something we can watch and be proud of. Look! We found a place to put those dreams and ideas without telling on our selves to people we've learned...don't always root for us... Most importantly, I hope we feel sane. I hope we feel like we can be that person who gets asked out on dates we don't want to go on, approached by strangers because they want to be our friend. That we can drive! Spider-Man finally falls in love with us once he remembers how in love we are (lol.). We remember to use some semicolons instead of commas; like we did just now. That we have a little space to look back on just how far we've come <3.

I want you to remember that today, you got a gift from your friend that was so personal to you, it couldn't have been meant for anyone else, that they thought of you and valued you...and expected nothing in return genuinely. Like you would- and that made you feel like you wanted to do something in return, no matter how late it was. No stress, no pressure for the first time. In the midst of the fact that right now you're not sure if it'll work out, that some things didn't go to plan, and we still made it this far. That we spent all of our free time preparing for this and looking forward to this until eventually school felt less like a place where we felt shame and more like a place to escape when we wanted to do something for ourselves. Before this? When was the last time we felt proud of ourselves? Genuinely, with no voices in our head downplaying it or minimizing it. I hope you can think of one, and it's so recently it's a clear picture in your mind.

Last thing, I look over at our corkboard right now and it's quite barren. Some stuff taken down... sure, like our schedule that we really should be remaking for us or... that tuition dispute we handled like a boss! Mainly, though, because we're once again waiting to add things to it. I hope we didn't push off the 'right time' we're masters of procrastination delegation. Buy that Polaroid camera, get that makeup job! Pin up those goals, and make those conspiracy theories (WE ARE GETTING THAT MOVIE!). Finish that Fic!! and make the next book! DO everything you want! You can, congrats you made it past 18, and now you're 23, happy to be here. That took time. You did it. I hope you know that! I think you just realized that! Go have fun!!!! Right now, I feel proud. If anything, you'll remember this.

Painfully sincerely, Present me-Past you.

Journaling prompts to reinvent yourself ౨ৎ

how do I want the world to see me, and does it match how I see myself?

how do I show up for others, and how do they show up for me?

what about my life feels like love and what doesn't?

where does my time go, and where do I wish it would go?

who do I admire most, and what about them speaks to my soul?

is the way I live aligned with the life I dream of, or a I just coasting?

what qualities in others feel the most magnetic to me? Do I reflect those?

what’s inside my bag, and what does it say about me? (be honest, even the gum wrappers count.)

if I could script my perfect morning, how would it begin?

what passions have I ignored that I would like to reclaim?

what’s one small, powerful shift I could make today to move toward my dream life?

write a tender letter to the future version of yourself. What do you hope they’ve become, and what do you want them to remember about now?

As always, please feel free to share your own prompts and check out my insta for more of me! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[coqhee]

STRATEGY

✷ a step by step tutorial on how to get into yang jungwon’s stubborn and dumb heart using wikihow!

day 14 of melodies to memories ― y.jw︲f reader︲fluff, comedy︲1400

prom wasn’t long away, yet why hadn’t yang jungwon asked you out?

you were basically already dating with the way he’d always saving you a seat at lunch, walking you to class, and texting you late into the night.

maybe he was just waiting on you to say something first, and you know what? you were going to make the first move. by making him ask you out obviously. 

you caught him after class one day, leaning against the lockers with his headphones draped around his neck.

“hey,” you started, trying to keep your tone light. “are you planning to go to prom?”

jungwon looked at you, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “depends.”

“on what?”

“on who I’m going with,” he said smoothly, a cocky grin widening.

this isn’t going to do. new plan. wikihow.

─── ♡

STEP 1: LET HIM KNOW YOU’RE INTERESTED

get to know him

flirt

body language

getting to know yang jungwon was easy. you were already friends with him so check! next part.

wait.

flirt?

with yang jungwon? not going to happen. no way. next part.

body language. okay.

you decided to test out your newfound knowledge the next time you and jungwon hung out. it was a saturday afternoon, and the two of you were sprawled out on his couch, a random movie playing in the background as he scrolled through his phone.

you started small, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear every now and then, making sure it looked natural. when he glanced at you, you leaned in slightly, angling your body toward him like wikihow said.

"you good?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah, why?" you replied, feigning innocence.

he shrugged, smirking. "nothing. you’re just... fidgety."

oh right you forgot to look at the floor, because it makes you look cute. at least according to wikihow.

“you keep looking at the floor,” jungwon said, sitting up now. “is there something on it? like a bug?”

“no!” you exclaimed, a little too quickly.

“then why do you keep staring at it like it’s gonna talk to you?”

you wanted to melt into the couch. “i don’t know, maybe I just like floors, okay?”

jungwon seemed completely unbothered, leaning back and stretching. “you’re lucky you’re fun to hang out with, though. otherwise, i’d think you were plotting something.”

you tried to brush it off, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. so maybe wikihow wasn’t working right now, but there were more steps left to try... right?

─── ♡

STEP 2: DROP HINTS

use common knowledge to your advantage

have your friends drop hints

talk about your plans

okay this step wasn’t too bad. this has got to propel you towards him asking you out to prom.

when you told your friends of your plan, they thought you had lost it. actually this time.

more specifically when you asked them to drop hints by bringing the two of you up more often as an item.

“so, let me get this straight,” giselle said, narrowing her eyes. “you want us to casually bring you and jungwon up in conversation, like... as a couple?”

“yes,” you said with conviction, ignoring her skeptical look.

“subtle, right?” sunoo piped up, raising an eyebrow.

“exactly. not too obvious, just enough to plant the idea in his head,” you clarified, determined.

giselle snorted. “subtle isn’t exactly my strong suit, but sure.”

you watched from afar as giselle ran up to jungwon yelling something.

“jungwon! you know y/n likes you right?”

that’s not a hint. what the hell. does she know remotely what subtle is?

“okay okay what do you really want now, my chem notes?” he laughed and brushed her comment off. she looked to you and shrugged.

it’s okay, you didn’t complete the last part of this step. though you felt an immeasurable amount of dread.

the next day in class after putting your bag down, you approached his desk, playing with his pencil.

“hey you know i’m going to the movies this week right?” you asked.

“oh nice, have fun, what movie by the way?” he smiled giving an oblivious smile. if only he knew.

you blinked, not expecting that response. “… yeah, I mean, it’s supposed to be a fun movie. romantic comedies are always better in theaters, right?”

“sure,” he said, still doodling, completely unfazed.

your brain scrambled for something else to say, something that could salvage this interaction. “you know, it’s the kind of movie that’s probably better with… company.”

he stopped drawing, finally looking at you properly, though his expression was unreadable.

“then why don’t you take giselle?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, tilting his head, reading your expression. though you wouldn’t have noticed the look he was giving you, begging you to ask him to go.

you wanted to scream. you wanted to crawl under a rock. you wanted to fall into a blackhole and have it spaghetti noodle you up like the many articles you’ve read.

you just wanted to yell at him that you liked him. though you weren’t sure if he’d get the message even at that.

maybe it’s time you finish all the steps.

─── ♡

STEP 3: KNOW WHAT NOT TO DO

avoid the friendzone

avoid letting him know how much you want to go out with him

don’t wait around too long

wait.

that’s it.

maybe you’re just in the friendzone?

the thought made your stomach sink, and for the first time, doubt crept into your master plan.

maybe it’s time to give up, you thought with a sigh. but before you could let defeat settle in, giselle, snatched your phone out of your hand.

“what the hell are you moping about?” she asked, reading the screen. her face scrunched up in exaggerated disbelief. “you? friendzoned? please, y/n. the boy is always staring at you. just yesterday, he literally paused mid-bite of his sandwich when you walked in.”

“that doesn’t mean anything,” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

giselle rolled her eyes, dragging you up from your chair. “okay, first of all, you’re not giving up. second, you’re doing something big. we’re skipping to the final step.”

“what’s the final step?” you asked warily.

she smirked. “you’re just going to ask him yourself.”

you froze. “absolutely not. that’s—”

“y/n!”

jungwon called with a smile waving his hand over. you looked back to giselle as if she was going to create some sort of comfort, but no. she pushed you forward towards the boy whispering something that you couldn’t hear.

“hi won,” you greeted with some sort of a smile.

“so,” he trailed off. “so,” you prompted him back

“prom.”

“yeah what about it? it’s this weekend and..?”

jungwon scratched the back of his neck, “well, i was wondering if, uh, you…” he hesitated, glancing away for a split second before locking eyes with you again. “…if you’d go with me.”

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you thought you misheard him. “wait, what?”

his lips quirked up in a lopsided grin, the confidence creeping back into his demeanor. “prom. you. me. together. what do you think?”

“not as like, friends right. or maybe as friends, which way are you asking?” you asked nervously.

“not as friends,”

“oh,” you managed to say, your voice a little higher-pitched than normal. “well, in that case…”

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a teasing smile. “you gonna keep me waiting, or…?”

“no!” you said quickly, shaking your head. “i mean—yes. not yes to keeping you waiting. yes to—”

jungwon chuckled, cutting off your rambling. “i get it. it’s a yes.”

“yes,” you repeated, this time with more confidence, a grin spreading across your face.

“good,” he said, his smile softening as he glanced down for a second, then back up at you. “because i’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now. just didn’t want to mess it up.”

“mess it up? jungwon, you’re like, the last person who could mess this up.”

“yeah?” he asked, his tone lighter now. “you think i’m that smooth?”

“not really,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. “but i think i like you anyway.”

his grin grew wider, and for a moment, the usual confident, composed jungwon seemed almost bashful. “good to know,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “because i like you too.”

maybe wikihow did have the answers all along. the answer of a strategy on how to get yang jungwon to ask you out to prom.

─── ♡

a/n: happy day 14 of melodies to memories!! not going to be awake for this one so my perm tl will be tagged on this post rather than in the reblog hehe >< I've been LOVING strategy by twice it's so brain itch afhuidjg,, all likes, comments, reblogs appreciated.

melodies to memories tl (open!): @pshwrldd @hhmnya@wonsdoll@lovuegi

perm 🏷️(reply/send ask to this post to be added): @wonsdoll @suneng @heeambi @anqelkoz @who-tf-soddhi @cupidhoons @kiss4noo @nooyork

@ coqhee 2024. all rights reserved.

[gaeilmeta]

Kapo

"Kapos" were concentration camp prisoners who collaborated with their Nazi masters to police their fellow captives. They were often bullies, criminals, sociopaths, etc. selected from the camp population and incentivized with preferential treatment to perform as goons who beat, tortured and murdered other inmates as they wished or when so ordered.

APC is an acronym for armored personnel carrier.

far too many

steps ahead

to tell you

at the time

my

smoldering rage

has finally

found

the pencil

that's for years

laid

lead loaded

in the night stand draw

only waiting

for this rhyme

now

by decades

sharpened

its point

is turned

to you

to you

you miserable

fucking screw

fuck you

to you

and fuck

all four

of the donuts

you rolled in on

too

for that matter

fuck every one

of the deep fried

stands

your chubby assed

cheeks

have ever

waddled through

when victimized

you made me out

the villain

treated me

a criminal

citing innuendo

concocted

from thin air

gouged

my wounds

repeatedly probing

for inconsistencies

that simply

were not

there

had

the dysenteric

dreg

not begun to burble

or the barmaid

failed to file

her report

your porcelain cold

conceit

would surely

have polled me

up the river

to some stale

stone gray

resort

please then

do receive

every drop

of venom

painstakingly painted

to the arrow head

of this communique

fuck you

to you

today

tomorrow and

on and on

far beyond

the goddamned

Milky Way

fuck you

to you

again

and again

my feckless

friend

you petty

perversion

of the flaw

do you feel me

fucker

the fury

of the fucking

the fathom

of the maw

fuck you

to you

and fuck

your clan

of ruthless kin

cloaked

in comic

keystone blue

huddled up

behind

their polished shields

nothing more

than

a system sanctioned

crew

breathtaking

the absence

manifest

when you proclaim

the killer

of a cop

somehow worse

than

any of the rest

does not milord

the very notion

a blaring bigotry

betray

knighted nobles

peering down

their wrinkled noses

upon the wretched

rabble

they're supposed

to hold

at bay

fuck you

to you

and double

no

tripple fuck

the commands

you bark

demanding all

to cower

and comply

an arrogance

distilled

in willful ignorance

guaranteed

to reach

a point

where someone's

bound

to die

and lordy

ain't

to protect and serve

one big

wonder breaded

lie

a barely coded

message

most breathin' fools

can read

since the mission's

always been

to keep

your monied master's

greed

safe from

the humbled herd

which

with one

idle shot

might be

spooked

into a renegade

stampede

fuck you

to you

and fuck 

the new centurians

resplendent

in their Jolly Roger

riot gear

flanking families

marching

for more porridge

here

kinda makes it

crispy clear

preservation

of good order

is not

the honest aim

no instead

it's intimidation

menace

and good

old fashioned

fear

looks a lot

like

black's become

the chosen hue

course

it's only fittin'

cuz that's sure

what them

beatin's

and choke holds

do

turn rainbows

into

black and blue

so

there'll be

no chance

mistakin'

just who

the fuck

is who

don't you

think

your shirts

might be

better shed

for some

shittier shade

of brown

that way

everyone

can plainly

see

the hobnailed hearts

of the fascist fucks

toolin' 'round

our own

home town

in a surplus

APC

fuck you

to you

and fuck

the alphabetic zoo

of paramilitary

forces

and other

substrate crawlers

scuttling

and squirming

hidden from

the public eye

dirty workers

darting

in the shadows

gobbling up

eveything

there is to know

about

who we are

where we go

even

what we think

and why

whose service

have you served

but Ceasar's will

from Selma

to Chicago

Kent State

Seattle's Capitol Hill

Watts

Wall Street

Ferguson

Standing Rock

Charlotte

and of course

Le Parc de Lafayette

to name

a few

I'd lay a bet

you'd really rather

we forget

Judy's

Mr. Punch

the puppet

twitching

to the strings

of power

a blaggard

armed to

and spitting

through

crooked yellow

teeth

rambling gurgles

about

preserving peace

as

his bayonet

slides gleaming

from its sheath

yet

worthy souls

must

figure in

somewhere

got to be

at least

two or three

good apples

scattered

here or there

trouble is

it saddens me

to say

having lived

this country

coast to coast

you

you sick

simple minded

prick

are the one

I've met

the most

[cleliacleliadatura]

On adopting unique traits for survival....

My observation of Italian men, and people, while in Italy was never one of fear. Not one Italian man ever made me feel pressured, scared or hunted-including at "aperitivo" hour. Maybe I was just lucky not to be their type.

While there may be the stereotype of the Italian lover and a wandering eye and sun-soaked trysts that Hollywood loves to portray, my immersive moment in time with the Italian culture suggested a sense of safety-a down to earth approach to life that was not a cinema ready trope. Although one time I did wander too far and didn't have money for a bus ticket so I hitched a ride with a classically handsome Italian man on his Vespa. That was magical.

So refreshing.

When Jack made it clear he had moved on with another woman, I found myself riding random city buses with no destination in mind, sketch pad in hand during some evenings. I felt numb. Hurt, betrayed. The whole reason I chose this location to study and live was to be closer to him, in my foolish 20 year old mind, I should've known someone 8 years older than me had more serious objectives in mind than being a free spirit.

Reality sets in, though. I got fined a thousand euros for going on bus rides without paying for tickets. Still haven't paid it to this day.

That summer, Jack & I had worked on a project together. It was during this project he met his current wife. The warning signs were there, including me spending hours drawing telephones for an animation, only for it to barely make it in the final cut. The whole time, I was sitting there, with a streak of dyed blue hair, at a desk face to face with him, as he ran pencils up and down my legs flirting with me.

^our favorite song at the time (cue eye roll)....

The whole time, she had been there....at the show, where over a hundred people gathered to watch the final work, they took photos together standing side by side. He pretended as if I didn't exist.

Later in a one sentenced email where we officially broke it off, he said "It must be the magic of dancers"....in reference to why he betrayed me for her. How hurtful and twisted that felt, knowing only 5 years earlier I was that person. How I wished then and there I had chosen a completely different path in life, one that did not involve consulting therapists for medications that made me gain weight, because that's what American culture told me to do when you felt sad, even for two weeks. How I hated myself for choosing college instead of sticking with full commitment to the creative and performing arts. I didn't believe in myself, and the idea of being a "creator" online, where any person can give the illusion of success and fame was not commonplace. Then, it was real or it was not. In the flesh.

I was a complete fool. Blinded by my own youthful privilege of assuming honesty. When I look back, I think we were better suited as bandmates or coworkers, nothing more....He was a drummer afterall, can't trust drummers.

Thank God Regina Spektor had released a new album just that summer, her lamenting emotional music helped me feel less alone. To be honest, I haven't sung with the same passion as I did back then since this event. He used to film me singing, including one time at the Machipongo Clam Shack. He really believed in me, and his artistry and devotion to the creative world blended with a keen aptitude for technology inspired me, motivated me. Whenever I sang a song, it was my love for him that made the words flow with genuine intention. Now I feel like there's a lump in my throat, and a frog lives in my voicebox. Blocked. I once asked him if he would share all the videos he took of me singing, when I was younger and my voice was powerful. He completely ignored this request. Maybe it gave him satisfaction knowing that this one thing I desired, some evidence, wouldn't be so easy. My dream of being a singer required more than just saying it, I had to show it. He took some of that away by refusing to give the footage. I recall a moment where he came to visit the States and I could tell he judged me for my privilege in many ways, including being an american citizen-of knowing English so well. Life was a lot easier for Americans than the modern Italian man in the contemporary capitalist world. Especially for an aspiring artist and filmmaker. I can understand his feelings, he was right about this and many other things. I suppose it was his lesson to me, a bitter one. One that has repeated in my life in many ways, of people not really being happy for me when I'm doing the things that make me feel happiest. Maybe to a few important people in my life where I perceived this sentiment, it was because they felt I didn't truly deserve it. Get in a kitchen, go be a waitress. Get a real job, you're no artist.

One night, after coming up from the beach and catching the sun, with a dumb grin on my face, we had a dinner with family and friends. We were talking, laughing and in the middle of a sentence he pointed up towards my parent's bedroom window. He didn't say anything else but "It's because of Babo." He laughed. This was his way of letting me know he knew my secret, that most of my luck in this world was because of my Dad.

Jack told me once, "...we are all tiny grains of sand..." At the time, it was the most profound thing I'd ever heard. So different than the general attitude and culture I was used to, it made me uncomfortable. At first, I didn't like thinking we were just here for a temporary experience or existence, to face the reality of our personal insignificance in the cosmos. I thought in order to achieve we were supposed to hone a strong sense of individuality, to know thyself. To compete, stand out. Meeting him taught me to open my mind, to step outside of myself and what I knew to be true. When he left, it was as if all I did was retreat into an even more self-centered chrysalis of self-doubt.

I realize now his philosophy was very particular to Italian culture, of not taking up too much space, or more than necessary in order to survive. This is reflected in an ecological way straight into the cuisine and daily habits. In America, people like big, fast, fancy, rich, and opulent. To me, perhaps I am wrong, most Italians that I met valued simplicity. They didn't eat too much, they didn't waste a lot, their living spaces were not huge. Many in the city didn't have personal cars, maybe a rideshare (not Uber). Many got food from a local market, not a store, and went every few days to replenish on fresh produce and smaller bags of grain, pasta, a modest selection of formaggio or a cut of meat from the machelleria. I had many awkward conversations in broken Italian with elderly men puffing on cigars playing chess in the vibrant squares, some muttering about Mussolini and the evils of fascism. I loved the espresso bars, with forest green marble countertops and faded gold trims, where people stood at all hours of the day to get their doppio espresso in a tiny porcelain bicchiere. There was something about this area that drew me in, maybe a legacy of the mind's eye from the Carlo Petrini "Slow Foods Movement" and ensuing lifestyle. Not living to work, savoring the day to day. Recyling. Not always needing "new". This was then, who knows what it's like now or if perhaps what I observed was merely a reflection of what I was seeking.

Jack used to comment on my need to edit.

During the celebration in the streets I mentioned in the post about Mopsey, the seeing eye dog, not once did I ever feel unsafe. I wasn't looking over my shoulder like I've felt in other places of the world.

It wasn't centered on drinking and getting black out drunk or violent/ransacking stores, which seems to inevitably happen in some places once a 100 or more people gather and run through streets. There was no stench (or aroma, depending on your point of view) of hashish fumigating the airwaves.

Plus, locals warned me hashish in Italy, if you looked for it, would most likely be cut with contaminants that caused Hep C, and it was very expensive, not a necessity.

It seemed to me the people of this city didn't need that to have a good time.

Moderation is an embedded practice.

There were a few times when I felt unsafe walking alone in the city. A man with a deep imposing voice and square hat tapped me on the shoulder, asking for money. He then started following me for about ten minutes-trying to get information about me. What is your name, where are you from, are you from America? Bionda bionda.

I entered a cafe and stayed there until he got bored and left.

Another time, someone in the rotating group, Chloe, wanted to go to a nightclub. She was younger than me and far more intent on partying it up and being the opt-in Serena Vanderwood of Italy.

Nothing impressed her, she always kept her cool.

She was a smart young woman and not easily stressed yet came back sobbing one night.

A man, not from Italy, had tried groping her and sexually assaulting her at the discoteca.

One night, after singing at the Jazz Club, I walked home at 2 am by myself.

I saw his long dress skimming the sidewalk and heard the sucking noises.

He was shouting lewd things at me and started circling me making very lewd gestures and calling me horrible names "American whore".

Never had our paths crossed, wittingly, prior to this moment.

Not having cell service, tired and alone, with at least a 20 minute walk ahead of me, I decided to use my past acting skills.

I starting hissing at him, the same way my childhood friend Thomas had taught me since kindergarten.

Making weird noises, like a monkey calling in the forest, and making a boxing stance.

He kept following me, circling me on his bike and trying to grab at me-it was so bizarre.

Finally, without thinking I just started running at top speed without looking back and cut through a few side streets. All in a romper and two inch wedges.

Another disturbing event was one of my roommates had a very abusive older boyfriend, American Lex, who worked for the "music industry". She was only 19, he was 40. He was at least 6'2. He reminded me of a snapping turtle aardvark, or a beanstalk with a large gut. He always wore expensive loafers, impossibly skinny black jeans, and a tight black turtleneck with a leather jacket. He was extremely controlling of her, his bald head a shiny mirror to the passerby. His skin was a pale shade of Voldemort. Every five seconds he would call her, it seemed, asking where she was and what she was doing, who she was with. Then when they'd spend time together, he'd ignore her and make it seem like he was super busy on really important business calls with super important people and that she was a waste of his time-all while seemingly glued to her body.

She spent most of her short time in Italy, the country she had always wanted to see including the Uffizi, which she made sure to let everyone know she had memorized each room because of her Art studies-in a state of PTSD.

At night she would cry and start eating chocolate stuffed croissants, sitting upright in her bed-staring at the wall in a dream state. I'd wake up in the morning to see at least 4 wrappers on the floor as her ringtone "Gasolina" by Pitbull woke all of us up.

She had dark circles under her eyes, one time her pale arm had what seemed to be a mark from someone grabbing it.

She was always tense, nervous, confrontational.

Without ever speaking to this man, I resented him for being a jerk to someone two decades younger than him which then made everyone else's life difficult.

Sometimes it works, but I've found that many relationships with a large age gap are not very psychologically healthy for the younger person.

Just my observations, there is no formula.

[fatimaah]

sunny Saturday

I wonder if the last days of school will feel the same, will we sit like this, will the teachers remind us of adulthood chasing, will the open window let the sun rays in, will the curtains danse with the wind making everything look cinematic, will my friends be late to school?

It was hot today, we went to a university nearby where some event was going on today.

While walking Fir was trying to memorize her biology stuff (I swear if I was her, I wouldn't be her like there's no way I will do me like that, I'm not a selfhater), anyway I was just singing songs in my head and walking with her until we came to the university.

I persuaded fir to stay outside because there was a huge crowd inside that it seemed like the oxygen is about to end. We stayed there a bit as she was telling me about some trees or whatever. and omg there was a gurl right in front of us and SHE HAD SUCH A COOL FUCKING STYLE OMG I CAN'T I really wanted to talk to her or at least tell her she looks so frickin cool. But she left haha.

Then we were fangirling over flowers and spring with firuza until we saw kamilla, later me and kmll went inside and thrifted some cool thingies universities were giving away and I love this newspaper pencil ♡

When we returned back we put some videos(song lyrics) at class and chilled there with girls. Frz and kmll are two TikTok addicts and I was sitting with both of them while changing my focus from one phone screen to another (I like it).

I love how it was so sunny and right now it's raining and there's a thunder outside. There's just something about thunders, they are so loud but when they come with the sound of rain in the background they sound soothing. I used to be afraid of rain when I was little because I watched a lot of movies about flood and I was always scared of floods. I still am actually. I can't believe that all we have can one day (God have mercy on us) just be wiped out by fire or water or wind...or bomb. Hate the idea of losing everything.

these days I'm thinking about money that I have.... it's around $170 in total. I can spend it on so many things but...more and more, everyday, I want to donate every single dollar to Palestine or Congo, or Sudan.... I can't stop thinking about it

I feel like if I don't do it right now and spend my money on some food or yarn or books or whatever, I feel like...I will betray myself, I know if I don't do this I will feel bad and will want to die. If I don't do it, I will be ashamed of existing.

It's not a big deal if I won't buy more yarn, if I will read online books, if I won't hang out with my friends. For the sake of people who can't even afford seeing their loved ones alive, for the sake of people who don't have a roof above their head, nor do they have food, nor do they have water...

Only faith, I swear those people only have faith.

I will do it, I am not able to ignore such things.

April 20, 2024